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He thinks about saying he needs to go over to a classmate’s house to do a group project—but then his parents will want to see the project.
Late into Sunday night, he keeps himself awake, trying to think of another way.
Right before he falls asleep, he wonders if maybe he’s found one. When he wakes up, it’s still there. It’s a long shot, but as he grows more and more certain that whatever he has with Avery is in peril, he figures any shot is worth taking.
—
Mr. Castor lookssurprised to see Ryan waiting at his office door so early on Monday morning.
He looks even more surprised when Ryan asks, “Do you think you could give me a fake detention?”
Ryan has never been in a teacher’s office like this. He has never asked for a favor from a teacher or anyone else at school.
Mr. Castor ushers him into the office and closes the door. He puts his coffee down on his desk, clears some papers off a chair, and motions for Ryan to sit.
Awkwardly, Ryan does so. The hallway was empty, but already he feels like everyone saw him come in here to ask for help.
Mr. Castor doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t even ask what “fake detention” means. Instead he asks, “What’s going on, Ryan?”
Ryan is sure Mr. Castor has to know that he’s gay; all his teachers seem to know. But Ryan has always stubbornly refused to say it to any of them, to invite them into that part of himself.
Now, though, Ryan finds himself telling Mr. Castor about Avery, about how Avery drove all the way to Kindling to go to a dance that very few kids from Kindling attended.He tells Mr. Castor about the snow day, about how amazing it was…and then he tells him about coming home after, what a comedown that was, followed by his parents’ uncompromising and apparently unending punishment.
“So you thought…”
“I thought that if you emailed them and said I had detention, then Avery could come here and I could see him and save everything from falling apart.”
It sounds so foolish when he says it out loud. Far too much to ask. If Mr. Castor isn’t going to laugh at him, somehow the walls of the school will.
After taking a sip of his coffee and thinking about it for a second, Mr. Castor says, “Do you realize there’s a flaw in your plan?”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan says. “I never should have asked you—”
“No,” Mr. Castor interrupts. “It’s not that. It’s that if I were your parents and I got a notice saying that you had earned a detention, I wouldincreaseyour punishment, not ignore it. You might get your afternoon with Avery, but it might be months before you get another chance.”
It’s so obvious. If Mr. Castor wasn’t sitting right there, Ryan would punch himself in the face. For real.
Mr. Castor goes on. “Detention is not the answer, Ryan. Forensics, however, might be.”
Ryan doesn’t follow. “Forensics?”
“Speech and debate tournaments.”
Ryan still doesn’t get it. “I don’t do that,” he says.
Mr. Castor leads him gently. “I think it might be time for you to start. We meet on Thursdays after school. You might even have to go to a tournament this Thursday.”
“But I don’t—oh.Oh.”
Mr. Castor smiles and lifts his coffee cup in a toast.
“Welcome to the team, Ryan.”
—
Thursday is theone day Avery doesn’t have to be at play practice and Ryan doesn’t have to be at work. There is no way Mr. Castor could have known this. It just happens to be the case.
—
