LGBT+

The Stupid Support Group Thing My Mom Made Me Go To

"Just so you all know, I don't want to be here. I asked my mom if I could see a real therapist, but she thought "support group" would be better or "healthier" or something. That it would help me "make friends." Stupid. But whatever, if you insist, sure I'll tell you about myself.

Hi, my name is Daniel Baker, but I go by Danny. I am seventeen years old. Uh, let's see, what else...I hate school, but I'm pretty good at sports, I tried to commit suicide a couple weeks ago, and I love apple pie.

What was that? You want to know why? Well, it's kind of a long story, so you better get comfortable.

You see, apple pie is not only the best pie in the world, but the all-time best food in the world for three main reasons-

I'm sorry, what? Oh....Ohhhh, you wanted to know about the suicide thing? Oh, okay. That makes a lot more sense. I have to warn you though, if you thought the apple pie story was going to be bad, this one is way longer and much less exciting. Mostly, because it involves much less apple pie. Hahahaha.....no? Not funny? Okay then. If this introduction alone wasn't enough to convince you, then here is the story of why I'm insane.

It all started about four months ago. My life was perfect. I was the super popular, athletic, good-looking guy that everyone envied and admired. And I fucking loved it. Sure, my grades sucked, but who cares if you're failing math when you're the star of the football team? No one, that's who. Anyway, I was getting a full ride to Penn State on a football scholarship. But best of all, I was dating Natalie Dawson; the hottest chick in school. Yes, I truly had the greatest life a teenaged guy could have.

So why the hell did I have to go and screw it all up? Your guess is as good as mine.

Anyway. The day my heavenly life took it's first turn toward the general direction of Hell was the day Jesse McGrady moved to town.

Jesse fucking McGrady. He just had to move here of all places, didn't he? He just had to come to my school, ride my bus and sit next to me in English class. And the stupid little shit just had to fucking smile at me.

The first time I saw Jesse was when he got on my bus the morning of his first day. Right away, I could tell that he was a total nerd. Not only by the way he dressed, a crisp and clean button up tucked into khakis, but by the bulkiness of his backpack and the way he carried himself. And then there were his messy dark hair and glasses. And we all know that boys with messy hair and glasses are nerds. It's just a fact of life.

But....there was something else there under his obvious dorkiness. Something in his eyes that made me want to get to know him. But of course, there was no way I'd have admitted that to myself at the time. I did notice a weird feeling in my chest when we made very brief eye contact, though. I didn't know what it was, only that it was weird, and I couldn't make myself analyze it. I could only halfheartedly laugh along with my football buddies when one of them stuck out his foot and tripped the poor kid going down the aisle. Not that he let it bug him. He just picked himself right up, gave us all a middle finger, and found himself a seat.

We were shocked, to say the least, at the nerve of this boy. No one expected that from someone who looked like such a pussy. Right away my friends started in on him with their "so you think you're a badass, huh?" comments, and continued to bug him for the rest of the bus ride. I couldn't make myself join in, though I didn't know why. I usually loved nerd-bashing. It made me feel powerful. So I had no idea why I didn't want to tease this particular nerd who was obviously asking for it. I just didn't. Instead, I sunk down in my seat and hoped that the new kid wouldn't have any classes with me, so that I never had to look at him again.

Lucky me, though, I walk into fourth period English later that day to find him already there, handing his new schedule to Mrs. Sales for her to sign.