You've Got This, McCoy

Being Lowkey Isn't Always Best

The bricks I leaned against were cold. It was like I didn't know how to act anymore, cause I never stayed out here willingly. No, usually I was in by the lockers. With him. All I knew was once I went in there and saw him, the secret would begin.

Teenagers were vicious in groups, even if many of them were well-intentioned on their own.

Teachers were old-minded.

And in such a small town, this might spread like wildfire. In fact, aside from the frightening warmth filling up my chest, I'd spent this entire morning thinking of what might happen if this got out, and it was made all the worse by the fact I didn't know a single other person in my situation– A.W. didn't count. I knew no boys who had boyfriends. No girls who had girlfriends. And really, I didn't think I fit in with that crowd anyway. It... It just didn't make sense at that point, I guess. And the reason that crowd wasn't even here? Well, perhaps that was what captured my imagination the most, perhaps that's where the horror stories turned to truth.

I chewed on the end of a cigarette butt nervously as under and upperclassmen streamed past me into the building.

I just had to wait a few more minutes. Just a few more. When class started, eyes would not be on us.

When I heard the bell, I stuck the cigarette in my pocket, hefted my backpack up on a shoulder, and swung inside.

I barely heard my first period teacher leaving a sarcastic remark about being tardy to my back as I saw how A.W.'s eyes lit up upon meeting mine.

And I was not proud how I tripped over someone's backpack in getting to him, squatting by his desk to say hello quietly while– Eh, who was that? The teacher continued calling role. "Hey," I greeted, palms sweating, my empty stomach suddenly chock-full of butterflies.

"Hey, Pumpkin," he returned, and like a lightning bolt, fear jolted through me. I looked around. If anyone had heard, they did not react.

"No," I shook my head. "Lowkey, dude. Lowkey."

He rolled his eyes as I sat down beside him in my desk, but good-naturedly.

As the lesson began, distraction didn't even cover what was happening to me. Not only was I internally locked in a cycle of hemming and hawing about this situation, but I had A.W.'s feet in my lap. I picked lint off his sock at his ankle for a bit, as if the small motion would fix the mess in my brain.

It was after that, in the halls as I got to give him a proper hug and breathe him in that I heard a whispering pick up around us. It wasn't in my head this time; the walls did not whisper like they did in my dreams. It was right across the hall.

Laney, a sophomore, asking her friend if we were–

A teacher giving us a curious look.

I wanted to hang on tighter, prove I had reason to be here. I let go instead.

It was fine.

The rest of the day went smoothly, but more and more I had to watch how we interacted or touched. Eyes were everywhere, the curious eyes of the kids we'd grown up with. I didn't know how they'd react.

That night, after managing to get at least some homework done, I let myself out and made for A.W.'s place, kicking snow drifts in excitement off the sidewalk. It only occurred to me halfway there that I wanted to bring him something, so I stopped in at a grocery store off the way and this time continued on with a handful of Sour Patch Kids and two Pepsis, popping the same cigarette butt from the morning in my mouth to taste and pretend to smoke as if that would take the edge off my shaky anticipation. My mouth was dry, and my grin was breathless when he opened his window for me, asking, "Will you ever just come in through the front door, dude?"