Michael v: Unnatural

Fire erupted in Michael’s cheeks and he felt his mouth go completely dry. Laughter boxed his ears and he briefly thought he was going to faint right there in the corridor. But somehow he kept walking, walking, walking; he just needed to get to the end of the hallway so he could turn the corner and escape. Once he could get away from the laughter, away from the words, he would be fine.

He rounded the corner and took a deep breath. He pushed his way through the crowd of students and ducked into the first room that looked empty, chemistry lab, and leaned against the teacher’s desk. They’re just words, he told himself, they don’t matter. But he knew that wasn’t completely true. The words themselves were only part of the problem; the worst part was what the words conveyed. They told everyone that Michael was someone who should be ridiculed, someone who should be singled out because he was … sick and repulsive. He had heard those words all his life, but each time was like the first, a jagged knife cutting through innocence. He simply didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

“Are you all right, Mr. Howard?”

Once again he didn’t have to turn around to know who was speaking. It was Mrs. Clyde, the head of the science department. “Yes, I …” Michael started, but when he tried to finish his sentence he didn’t know what to say. Should he tell her the truth? I just needed a place to hide for a few minutes. Or I was running away because the school bully was calling me names again. “Yes, I’m fine.” Those were the words that finally came out of his mouth and although he knew someone as perceptive and savvy as Mrs. Clyde would not believe them, they would have to do. The first day of school was definitely getting off to a bad start. And it was only going to get worse.

“I don’t think they teach soccer in gaytard school.”

Michael ignored the comment, but here on the soccer field, there was no hallway for him to turn into, no empty room for him to hide in. He was exposed. He had two choices—he could act as if he didn’t hear Mauro’s comment or he could confront him. Without hesitation he chose the former. Which only meant that Mauro would continue to goad him.

Gym class was only forty minutes, Michael reminded himself. Mauro would shortly grow tired of teasing him and move on to somebody else. He just had to deal with it for a little while longer. In the meantime maybe he could impress some of his classmates with his newfound agility as he did earlier with his impromptu wit. The esteem hadn’t lasted very long, but perhaps he was a better athlete than a comedian.

This past summer, Michael grew three inches and as a result lost ten pounds. He was five feet ten and a lean 170 pounds. He didn’t have a six-pack and he wasn’t incredibly muscular, but he had spent many summer mornings running before the sun grew too strong, so he had built up his stamina and, most exciting, he was learning how to use his body. He knew he could make an impression if he was just given the chance.

He had to wait a while, but sure enough, with only ten minutes left to go in class, Michael got his opportunity. With the score tied, Jay Rogers, one of the best athletes in the school, had driven the ball forty yards down the field on his own. He was ten yards from the goal, but there were too many players from the other team blocking him, so he couldn’t make a clean shot. His goto guy, Bobby Z, couldn’t shake the kid who was tailing him, and the only other teammate in the free and clear was Michael.

Kicking the ball from one foot to the other, Jay hesitated. He didn’t want to pass it on to Michael; he wasn’t reliable. And he wanted to score one more goal so he could win the first game of the new school year. But the field didn’t change; the only one who remained open was Michael and so he had no choice.

When Michael saw Jay bring his right foot back and whack the ball in his direction, he couldn’t believe it, but it was unmistakable. The best player in school had just passed the ball to him. That’s when he decided to do something just as unbelievable; he decided to attack. Running toward the spinning ball, he deflected it off his right foot to slow it down and then kicked it farther toward the goal with his left. He ran after it and caught up with the ball just in time to spin around so his back was in front of some Spanish kid he didn’t recognize. He paused for a moment, kicking the ball from one foot to the other to try and confuse the kid so he could move past him. Jay and the rest of the team were in shock. Michael Howard was actually playing soccer really well.

Michael could feel his heart beating so fast and loudly he thought it was going to crash through his chest. He concentrated entirely on the soccer ball, deliberately ignoring the screams from his classmates. Honestly, he didn’t know if they were cheering for him or insulting him and he didn’t care. He was doing this for himself. He had to prove that he could fit in, at least for a few minutes during one gym class; that’s all he was asking.

Shifting his weight to the left and then quickly to the right, he faked out the Spanish kid and suddenly found himself a few feet in front of the goalie. Mauro didn’t even bother to protect his net. He was laughing hysterically and saying something that Michael refused to hear. He reared his right leg and brought it back, determined to give the ball the hardest wallop he could muster. But he failed. His foot missed the ball completely and he came crashing down on the grass, his left hip first and then the rest of his body.

People were shouting, some were laughing, and Michael had the impulse to roll over and bury his face in the grass. But even if he did, he would still be able to hear them. “Keep that move for the Special Olympics, gaytard!” Mauro accented his comment by slamming the ball on the grass inches from Michael’s head. Then the bully proved his own agility by doubling over with laughter and high-fiving somebody at the same time.

Before Mauro could continue his victory dance, Mr. Alfano, the gym teacher, pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed Mauro by the shirttail. “Enough, Dorigo!” Strutting off the field, surrounded by his cronies, Mauro shouted at Michael once more, “That’ll teach ya to try to pass for one of us, gay boy!”

Mr. Alfano, immune to such insults on the sports field, didn’t even chastise Mauro for using such hateful language. He merely extended his hand to Michael, completely expecting him to grab hold and pull himself up. But Mauro’s last comment, shouted so that every single person in class could hear, had paralyzed him. Why won’t the earth just swallow me? Let me disappear so I don’t have to look at all these faces. They all agreed with Mauro, Michael could just tell; they all knew.

Leaning in close to Michael, Mr. Alfano whispered to him, “You’ve gotta stand up for yourself, Michael; otherwise it’s only going to get worse.” He looked into his teacher’s face and he saw something he had never seen before. Mr. Alfano looked at Michael with respect. There was no pity in his face, there really wasn’t even compassion, just respect from one person to another. Michael reached out and grabbed his hand; with the other he pressed on the grass and pushed himself up. “Good job,” Mr. Alfano said, then turned to the rest of the class. “Shower up.”

On the walk back to the locker room, Michael kept his head down. There may have been one or two faces in the group that smiled at him or shrugged their shoulders as if to say, It’s no big deal, but he didn’t see them. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

As usual, he waited until almost all the boys were done in the shower before he entered. Thankfully, Mauro had already showered and left so he didn’t have to deal with him. He had enough to deal with in here. Being naked in the large, open shower stall was a dangerous place for Michael to be, so he did his best to make sure he was there with as few people as possible. He stood beneath the showerhead, trying not to think about the stupid thing he did in gym. He tried not to think about the stupid thing his mother did last night; he tried not to think about the stupid things both of them would do in the days to come. He just bowed his head, eyes closed, and prayed that no one would notice him.