Cute, Cozy, Queer Stories

Part 7: Mr. Landers & Baylee

Mr. Landers looked drained. Baylee had figured the Sex Ed class didn't bother him. But maybe it did.

"So, I'm sure you all know by now what we're discussing today," Mr. Landers began. "Sex." He raised his eyebrows as giggles snaked through the room. "Take one and pass it down," he instructed as he handed out slips of scrap paper. "I know that asking questions about sex can be weird, so, if you have a question, just write it down, and I'll do my best to address it. Flip your paper over when you're finished and I'll collect them. I'll wait a few minutes."

Mr. Landers stood at the front at the demonstration table, where he had manufactured explosions and turned a pickle into a light bulb in past classes. He flipped through a book for a few minutes. Baylee had to admit, it was a good strategy for answering questions no one wanted to ask. Mr. Landers was good that way.

Baylee glanced to the students on either side of her—both girls put up their arms and huddled over their paper while at the same time trying hard to look casual. She considered it for several moments—about to write, then stopping, then starting again. When Mr. Landers took a breath and closed his book, she quickly scribbled her question down and flipped the paper over.

He tapped a stack of packets briskly against the table once before handing them out, picking up the scrap paper slips as he did. "All right, I'm sure that a lot of you already know a lot about this. You've probably seen it in movies or maybe on the internet, or maybe your parents or siblings or friends have talked to you about it. But we're going to go through it anyway, so just bear with me."

A universal cringe passed over the class as everyone looked down at the labeled, anatomical genitalia diagrams. Baylee looked at the next page in the stapled packet, a wall of text under the heading "Sexually Transmitted Infections." That page was, thankfully, without diagrams. The next page was about pregnancy—including more painfully detailed diagrams, as well as statistics—and the next about consent.

Mr. Landers went through the first page with relatively little laughter and interruptions from the class. When he started to explain Chlamydia, a boy behind Baylee muttered, loudly, "Brittney knows all about that."

A girl ahead of Baylee whirled around. "Fuck you, Steve. You're just mad I wouldn't jerk off your tiny little—"

"Okay, okay," Landers said loudly. "We're not doing that. We're not calling people out and making accusations and things. Okay?" His voice evened, though he watched the two students exchanging glares. "Sex, disease, bodies--it doesn't have to be this shameful thing. It shouldn't be. And that starts by not using it that way." 

"Have you ever had an STI, Mr. Landers?" Steve asked. Baylee glanced back, seeing the short-haired boy with the faintest mustache, smirking.

Landers drew a breath, his patient smile returning, but looking thinner on his tired face. "I'm happy to answer your questions, but I really don't want this turning into an evaluation of my personal history. That's not really appropriate."

Steve chortled. "I thought it 'wasn't a shameful thing.'"

Laughter moved through the class.

Landers's smile slipped, his expression turning serious. "It's not. And, yes, I have had an STI." The laughter worsened, mixed with murmurs, and Landers just put up a quieting hand. "I was fortunate in that it didn't affect the rest of my life. I saw a doctor and—don't get me wrong, it was a pretty terrible experience, one I wouldn't repeat—but sometimes these things happen. It's no reason to give anyone shame about it, or to feel any shame about it."

"Mr. Landers, you were a player?" Steve said loudly. "You got tons of ass, didn't you?"

Disappointment sank through Baylee's chest. He wasn't actually ace. He really had been just being 'teacher-y.' But if he had been, he sure wasn't being teacher-y now. By the end of the next period, every student, and probably the teachers, too, would be saying Mr. Landers had Chlamydia. He must've known that. So why would he admit to that?