I walk in the door to my school. A few kids greet me, and I smile and wave back at them. I'm what you would call semi-popular at this school. I'm definitely not at the top of the popularity-chain, but I'm on it, which is more than most kids can manage to accomplish.

As I'm walking down the hallway of the 300s looking for one of my friends, I notice these two kids, Greg and Ryan, in what appears to be a heated make out session. I'm sort of friends with them, so I don't feel too weird about going over there and interrupting their intense kissing. I saunter over to them, looking at all the projects that are hung up on the walls of the hallway—some of which date back to around 10 years ago—on the way. Teachers never seem to take down old projects, and no one seems to really care—or else, they just don't notice. I'm just looking for something to do so that maybe Greg and/or Ryan will see me coming and stop sucking each other's faces long enough to say "hey."

I get over to them without them noticing I'm coming. "Hi," I say, and they pull away from each other long enough to look at me. Greg puts his arm around Ryan, and Ryan leans over onto him. I wave to them each, one at a time. "Either of you guys seen Sarah?"

Ryan is the one who answers. "I think she's somewhere with Julia. They're probably fucking or something." He shrugs, then turns back to Greg, and they start making out again. I take that as a sign that I should walk away, so I do.

After much searching, I find Sarah. She is with Julia, but they aren't fucking. They're just hanging out doing some last-minute homework before school starts. They seem to be out of luck, though, because the bell rings the second I walked up to them. We wave our goodbye's, and I realize too late that I didn't get to ask her to go to the movies tomorrow night. It's not a date or anything—I haven't come out yet, and Sarah's not straight, anyways—but she is one of my oldest friends, and we try to hang out once a week or so. That doesn't always happen, though, because she's usually too busy going on double dates with Julia with random couples such as Greg and Ryan, or Lilly and Mia, or David and Freddie. I often don't even know that she's friends with half of the couples that she double dates with until she tells me that she's going on the double dates. We're drifting apart, but it's not a huge deal. I've seen it coming for a long time—I mean, in middle school we reached the age where girls started noticing other girls and guys started noticing guys. That time causes a lot of girl/guy friendships to fall apart. The only problem was… I started noticing the girls, and not the guys. By the end of seventh grade I came to the conclusion that I was straight, yet to this day I haven't come out to anyone yet—not even my dads.

I can never figure out where my parents stand on straight issues—half of me wants to believe that they'd love me no matter what, but there's always the chance that they would kick me out the second I told them I like girls. I have a brother and a sister, and they're both gay. If I came out as straight, I would be the disappointment to my family. My dads might not be able to handle that.

Nevertheless, I made it my New Year's resolution to come out by the end of the month. I probably should have made it until the end of the year, but I really needed motivation to get it over with.

There was one problem, though—I couldn't think of any straight girls in my entire school. I mean, I'm sure that there are some—we have a Straight-Gay-Alliance, and I don't think that it could exist without any straight kids. But if they're all guys like me… well, that would be a problem then.

I arrive at English, and automatically realize how stupid I am—there's a straight girl in my English class! Her name is Callie. I think about how maybe I should try and befriend her. She'd probably be accepting that I'm straight like her… right?

I take this opportunity to pull out a chair next to where Callie is sitting. I plop myself down in it and turn and look at her. She acts as though she thinks I'm going to hit her or something. I guess I don't really blame her—a lot of kids bully her, and I am one of the semi-popular kids. To try and make her less worried, I say, "Hey, Callie. How are you liking 1994?"

Callie seems surprised that I didn't call her a stick or something. I know she gets it a lot—being called a stick or something of that sort—but I have never bullied someone for being straight. I wouldn't like to be treated badly for who I am, either, so...

"Oh. Hey, Tim," Callie responds. "It's alright… Morwell is a great writer, but I'm not sure how I feel about the story." She shrugs, then cautiously continues. "Are you here to make fun of me or something…?" she asks.

"Why would I do that? I'm totally… uh… straight-friendly." Callie seems skeptical, but I reassure her, "No, really. I am. I don't see anything wrong with just, uh… being who you are?" I realize all of a sudden that I sound really dumb. To avoid further embarrassment, I turn so that I am looking at the board, and read what the teacher is in the middle of writing.

What do you like about 1994 so far? Who do you like better—Will or Joel? Easy questions. I look down at my paper to write them down, and I start to answer them, when I realize that my teacher, Ms. Gregory, is still writing. I wait a minute, then look back up to see what she has just written. How would you feel about the book if Will was actually named Willa or Joel was actually named Julia? I look around the room to see if anyone else has noticed what she just wrote. Knowing the kids in my class pretty well—I've been going to school with most of these kids since kindergarten—I have a feeling that that question probably won't go over very. These kids are, for the most part, rather heterophobic (which is part of the reason that I haven't come out yet…).

The first kid, a girl named Wendy, seems to notice what the teacher has written on the board. Wendy raises her hand, and holds it there for a few seconds, before getting impatient and speaks without being called on.

"Um, Ms. Gregory?" The teacher looks at Wendy, then nods at her. Wendy continues, "Should we really be talking about straight people in school? Don't you think that's a little bit… inappropriate?"

Ms. Gregory just stares at Wendy for a moment, and then, as though just realizing that Wendy is being serious, she speaks. "I don't see why we can't discuss a matter of opinion in class. I want to get a feel for where you stand on issues such as this. I want to know if it would change how you feel about the story."

Another kid, a guy named, Sam, speaks up as well. "Well, Ms. Gregory," he calls out, "I for one think that they should make some special school specifically for royals so that we don't have to deal with them in our schools. What they do makes me sick." He looks at Callie as he says that last part. Callie squirms in her seat, then looks down at her desk. The gays always win—straights are too much a minority for anyone to listen to what they have to say. We don't know how to stand up for ourselves. I don't know what I'll do once I come out…

The class passes around a few comments agreeing with what Sam said, but the conversation quickly dies out, and Ms. Gregory doesn't press further.

The rest of the class—and the rest of the day—passes uneventfully. I run out the door as soon as the final bells rings, and walk the whole two blocks to my house.

One of my dads, Ken, is sitting on the couch watching an old baseball game when I walk in the door. He waves to me, then looks back at the screen. I make the split-second decision that I will come out right here and now, so I stand at the counter for a few seconds, just watching him and willing him to look back over at me. He doesn't seem to notice that I'm there, so I clear my throat loudly. He looks over, then looks back at the TV to turn it off. Once the TV screen is blank, he stands up and walks over to me.

"What's up, kiddo?" he asks as he runs his fingers through my medium-length hair.

"Dad…" I start. I stop for a second, as I realize that I should probably wait until my other dad, Tyler, gets home. But I finally worked up the courage to do it, and I'm closer to Ken, anyways, so I figure that I will just do it. I sigh, then start to speak again.

"Dad…" I say again, "There's, uh… something I need to tell you." Ken stares at me with a curious look on his face. He makes a motion with his hands as if to say "go on," so I do.

"Dad… I'm… straight." I close my eyes without thinking, almost as though I'm expecting him to hit me. But he's never hit me before, so I'm not sure why he would now. When I open my eyes again, he is just staring at me.

"No," he finally says, and then, as if to make it more clear to himself, he says it again. "No. You… you're not straight. Hell, Tim, you're not even old to know that you're straight. And it doesn't matter, because you're not. No, Tim, I won't have a straight son."

Oh, fuck. I didn't know what kind of response I would get, but this is definitely not the kind I was hoping for.

"Dad," I say again, "I am. I know that I'm straight. I've had thoughts of liking girls since seventh grade! Isn't that when you started noticing guys? So why should it be any different for me?"

"I won't have a straight son," he says again. He seems like he's still trying to process this all. He seems to realize all of a sudden what really is going on. "If you are straight, you are welcome to leave this house. Right. Now."

"Dad…" I'm starting to get a little bit upset now. "Dad… you'd rather have no son than a straight son? How does that make sense?"

Ken now gets that I'm serious. He gets that I'm really straight and that I won't "change my mind" about it.

"You have ten minutes to pack," he mutters angrily. "Then you are to get out of my house. Don't come back."

I run down the hallway to my room, pull the biggest duffel that I can find out of my closet, and start packing. I start putting in the essentials—underwear, long-sleeve shirts, sweatshirts, long jeans. I grab my winter coat out of the hall closet, remembering all of a sudden that it is the middle of January and I'm going to be on the streets. I grab my mini safe and bury it in the middle of all my clothes. I hear my dad yell to me "Five minutes!" from down the hallway. I realize that I have all the essentials, so I start throwing random things like a pillow, some books, and the signed poster of Daniel Radliffe that I got a few years ago. I realize that I am out of time, so I go to the door of my house. I am hesitant to leave, as I realize all of a sudden that it is likely that I will never come back here again. I know that I have to go, though, so I open the door and step out into the real world.

I slept on a park bench last night. It's a miracle that I didn't freeze to death or get raped or something. I wake up at 5:00 AM, as the bench is rather hard and I'm freezing close-to-death. I could have gone to a shelter for the night, but I don't want to admit that I'm really… homeless. I need something to do with myself for three hours until school starts, so I go to the one place that I know will be open—Starbucks—and wait there for a few hours. I buy a coffee to warm up, but realize after the first drink that I really need to safe up my money for essential items.

I get to school a few minutes before the bell rings. Instead of kids smiling and waving at me, most of them just stare. I hear a few kids mutter under their breath things such as "Stick," "Royal," "Straight-fucker," and "Buffy." The same insults you hear muttered at other people every day that you don't pay attention to, but when they're directed at you, it actually hurts. I guess one of my siblings told everyone. It was probably Cameron—he's only fourteen, so he's in one of the most heterophobic stages of life. My only hope is that I don't have to see him—or my sister—anytime soon.

As I'm walk in the bathroom to pee before class, two guys and a girl that I barely know are standing at the sinks chatting. They turn to stare at me, then look at each other and smile.

"Well, well, well," the tallest one says to the two others. "Look what we have here!"

"It's the stick," the girl shrieks with joy. "Grant," she says to the third kid, "Make sure he doesn't come near me! He might try to hit on me or some shit."

'Grant' walks over to me and seems to be checking me out—whether it's because he's interested in me or if it's because he wants to beat me up, I don't know. Better chances are that he wants to beat me up, though.

The tall kid walks over as well. He's taller than me, so he has a good chance of winning in a fight. He seems to realize this, as he pushes me by the shoulders into the wall behind me.

"Stick," he says. "Straight-fucker. Vag-whore. What are you doing here? Don't you know that no one wants you?" He reels back his fist. I squint my eyes, anticipating the blow, when I hear the door open. Another girl screams, then runs over and grabs the tall kid's fist. "Leave him alone, Dave," she says. I see out of the corner of my eye that it is Callie who has come to my rescue. "Do I need to remind you of our hot make-out sessions we had all last year?"

The other two kids in the bathroom start cracking up. "Never thought of you to be a straight-fucker, Dave." They laugh and laugh as the walk out the bathroom door.

"Thanks so much, Callie," he says sarcastically as he runs out the door after his friends, calling "Hey, guys! Guys, wait up!" the whole way.

"You alright?" Callie asks me. I nod, then tell her that she doesn't need to stick up for me.

"We've never really even spoken before," I say to her.

"I know," she agrees, "But we're on a similar boat here. So… I just don't want to make assumptions. Is it true? Are you really… straight?"

I nod again. "I am. Did my brother tell everyone?"

It's her turn to nod now. "Yeah, but I didn't hear it from him. I heard it from my other straight friend, Riley."

"Riley's straight?"

"Yep."

"Wow, I had no idea."

Callie seems to think of something all of a sudden. "Are your— sorry, I don't know if you have moms or dads."

"Dads," I tell her.

"Okay. So, are you dads okay with it?"

I try to think for a second how much I should tell her. "Well… no," I finally decide on the truth. "I only told one dad, and he kicked me out right away. I never even told anyone else… and now everyone knows."

"Do you need somewhere to stay?" Callie asks me.

"Well, yeah. Why, do you know of a good shelter? Maybe one just for straight people? Do those even exist…?"

"Oh," Callie seems hurt for some reason. "Well, they do have those. But I was going to offer for you to come stay with me and my dads."

"Oh." Now it's my turn to be surprised. Why would a stranger offer for me to stay at her house. "Well, I would like to, but… wouldn't I be sort of a… burden?"

"Not at all," Callie says. "My dads told me that if I ever meet a kid at school who needs somewhere to stay for this reason, I should offer for them to stay with me without a second thought. So, here you are. You wanna stay?"

I think it over for a second. It's kind of weird, but I do need somewhere to keep out of the cold. I finally nod and smile at her. "I would love to, Callie. I really appreciate this."

"No problem," she says.

We exit the bathroom together, and she stops abruptly. "Do you want to go move in now? One of my dads—his name is Steven—works at home, so he's there right now. Come on, let's go."

I'm still carrying around my huge duffel, so this isn't much of a problem. As we're jogging to Callie's house, I look at her.

Sometimes opposites attract, but I think a friend often comes from someone in your same position. I think understanding is key.

I don't know if my dads will ever let me go home again. Probably not. But I think, at least for now, Callie's house will be a great place to stay.