Page 77 of Muscle Cub

“I dig people that age. Ten, eleven. Still young enough to play, not quite old enough to be emo yet.” Austin put the lid back on the cake container. “I taught sixth grade. Briefly.”

Recognizing his confession-blurting tone, I stared straight ahead at the road, encouraging him to go on by saying nothing.

“I did my student teaching in Athens, and then I got a job at North Crest Middle. I moved here eighteen months ago and started right after the winter holiday break.”

I thought for a moment that was all he was going to give me, but after a pause, he went on. “The thing you gotta know is, I’ve always been out—as a student, as a student teacher, even when I interviewed for the job. Representation is a big deal to me. I didn’t want to be closeted. Not with how vulnerable queer kids are, especially at that age.”

“When did you come out?”

“When I was seventeen. I was outed actually. I was the only male cheerleader at my high school, so everybody called me gay, even before they knew I was. I never personally doubted it. I’d been in love with our next-door neighbor, Chris, for as long as I could remember. He was a year older than me, same age as my brother, Grayson. They were best friends all through school. I mean, from kindergarten to high school. Chris had a weight bench in his garage where they worked out, and I was always trying to hang out with them. Grayson would try to run me off, but Chris would always tell him to let me stay.

“The summer before my junior year—their senior year—Grayson got a part-time job. He wasn’t around much, but I still hung out and lifted with Chris. The vibe was pretty intense when it was just the two of us. I went over there every freaking day hoping something would happen, obsessing over whether or not I should make the first move. And finally, right before school started back, I couldn’t take the suspense anymore. I kissed him. And he kissed me back.

“We were totally making out, and this girl, Staci, walked in on us. We heard someone at the door, and we jumped apart, but she’d already seen us. Staci was a senior. She cheered with me, and she was really into my brother. She liked both Grayson and Chris. People were always making jokes about them having three-ways.

“Anyway, she immediately turned around and left without saying a word. Chris took off after her, and he never came back. I waited for like two hours, pacing his garage, before I finally gave up and went home. I found out later that Chris and Staci had hooked up. That day. I guess he was trying to prove he was straight, or maybe he thought he could keep her quiet about what she’d seen. I don’t know. But the first day back at school, Chris and Staci were officially dating. My brother was pissed. He was either really into her and mad that his best friend had stolen her, or… I wondered if maybe there’d been something going on between Grayson and Chris to be honest. But they totally fell out. It was some serious drama.

“And then, right in the middle of all that, a rumor started going around that I had made a pass at Chris. Of course, I assumed Staci was the one telling everybody. I didn’t feel like I had any choice but to embrace who I was, so I just owned it. I was like, ‘Yeah, I’m gay.’ Nobody ever questioned Chris’s sexuality because he got Staci pregnant, and they ended up getting married before they even graduated.

“Grayson was a fucking mess the whole year. He blamed me for all of it. I didn’t find out ’til way later—from Chris, actually—that Grayson was the one who’d told everybody at school about me.”

“Wait. What? Your brother outed you?”

“Yeah. Apparently Staci did tell Grayson about seeing me and Chris together, but Chris swore she liked me and that neither of them would ever have done that to me. It was all Grayson.”

“Austin. Jesus.”

“That year—and my senior year, after they were all gone—were hell. I was bullied constantly. Every class I was in. And none of the teachers really intervened or stood up for me.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that. My God. How are things between you and your brother now?”

“We’re fine. I forgave him a long time ago. But that whole experience was a big part of why I wanted to be a teacher. By the time I was in college, open representation was starting to be seen as an asset by some school districts. Even in fucking Georgia. Of course, shit has more recently started swinging back in the wrong direction, but I digress… When I was hired at North Crest Middle, I was welcomed as an out teacher. Embraced. On paper, it was the perfect job for me, a combination of PE classes for students who identified as male and coed health and wellness instruction for everybody. I was gonna make a difference. What happened to me was not gonna happen to my students. I had a safe space sign on my door and a rainbow flag above the chalkboard. There was already another gay teacher who’d married her wife a few years back. Everybody was cool with it. Well, not everybody. There were a few dickhead teachers—there’s always a bigot or two—but most of the faculty were allies.”

We arrived at my house, and I pulled into the driveway. I didn’t want to interrupt his story, and he didn’t make any move to get out of the truck. I put it in park and left the engine running so we could keep the air conditioning going.

“So anyway, there was a trans boy in my health class. He’d come out several months before, at the beginning of the school year, and started asking everybody to call him Tucker. The principal and the school counselor were aware of his situation. They were supportive. They talked to me about it. Of course, I intended to acknowledge him as he wished. The first time I called roll, I asked if he preferred Tucker or Tuck. And instead of having everybody say ‘here’ or ‘present,’ I asked them to share their pronouns, so he—or anybody else for that matter—would be comfortable sharing theirs without feeling singled out. There were a couple of kids who snickered and rolled their eyes, but the vast majority handled it in a low-key way. I was really proud of them. I felt hopeful. But… I’d unintentionally made things worse for Tuck.”

Austin plucked at the fraying threads on his shorts. “The students had our school email addresses that they used for turning in assignments and forms and stuff. Over spring break, Tuck wrote to ask me if I could refer to him in class as Andy, a gender-neutral version of Andrea, the name his parents had given him at birth. He said it would make things worse for him at home if I continued to identify him as a boy. He said he was afraid of what his dad might do to him. It broke my heart, but more than anything, I was afraid for him.

“He reached out to me because he trusted me, and I felt like I was betraying him, but we’re legally obligated to report suspected abuse.”

“Then you did the right thing,” I said softly.

Austin stared out the window. He shook his head, either in regret or because he was unconvinced. “I had a college professor tell me I was in the wrong profession for one of my kind. The vice-principal at my first student teaching position told me he was watching me. And there was always some fear in the back of my mind that a student could make up a malicious lie about me. I’d discussed that scenario with people. I’d thought a lot about it. I was prepared to defend that. But I truly believed this was my purpose, and being closeted wasn’t the answer for anybody. I was advised to operate in full daylight, to leave no room for shade.

“I never communicated with Tuck in secret. I’m just gonna call him Tuck. I refuse to erase him. Every word of our email correspondence was shared with my superiors. They assured me I’d done the right thing. But shit still hit the fan.

“I came in on Monday after spring break, and somebody—Tuck’s dad—was raging in the principal’s office. Screaming, demanding to talk to me. I assumed he’d read Tuck’s email. He was threatening to call the police and the media if they didn’t bring me to him right then and there.

“To be fair, nobody really threw me under the bus. The principal tried to keep me out of it, but it was obvious the man was going to track me down. Better here than in the parking lot at my apartment or something. I thought maybe if I just talked to him, face-to-face, I could defuse the situation. I thought I could help. I thought I could make a difference.”

Austin blew out a breath and glanced at me. “It was not pretty. That man spat fire and brimstone at me, literally spitting at a few points. He hurled every self-righteous Bible verse you’ve ever heard. He accused me of grooming his daughter and brainwashing her into thinking she was a homosexual. There was no acknowledgment of the term trans, just homosexual, pronounced like it was the nastiest word in the English language.”

I cursed under my breath. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. And his rage scared me. My principal told me to leave. I walked out the door, went home, got into bed, and I stayed there for a week. The principal emailed, texted, called, and left voicemails checking on me. He said he didn’t want to fire me, but they couldn’t hold my position. He suggested I take an unpaid leave of absence pending either my return or my resignation, so I agreed. I didn’t want to deal with it. Ryan said he could get me on at the campground. It was the beginning of the season, and I’d been wanting to check it out. It was the perfect escape. Somewhere to get some space and to think. Or to not think.”

Shit. I’d been torturing myself over my next book, whining about having to start over, but at least I knew I was a writer. I knew there’d eventually be another book. Worst-case scenario, I had a fucking job and a home. Austin’s entire life plan had imploded. His identity was at stake.