by E. K. Blair
This story hits deep in my heart and despite the few people who suggested that I not write a gay book, I stood up for what I have always believed in—human rights. I love that I have this platform to share the stories that lie within me and that I am surrounded by people who support me.
To my husband, you not only rallied behind me, but you gave up many nights to read and re-read my manuscript, offering critiques, plot altering ideas, and guidance with Jase’s story. You have proven to not only be my biggest driving force, but also one heck of a proofreader! You know my heart, and I am so blessed that you have my back. My ‘thank you’s’ will run forever deep for you.
Gina Smith, thank you for helping me conceptualize this story from the beginning elements of development. I will never forget a conversation that you and I had in the beginning stages of this book when you, in all seriousness, told me how proud you were of me for having the courage to write this book. I never told you how much your words affected me, but they did—immensely. You’re amazing and the time you put in, plotting, editing, encouraging, and everything else you do is more than what I deserve, but I’ll take it!
My wonderful editor, Lisa Christman, I love your honesty. But what I love most is that, from the get go, you know we will fight and that I will defend all my words to you, but you stand by me and together we not only work hard, but we laugh—a lot. I love you for arguing with me and guiding me to better writing. You are an amazing friend, and I just can’t thank you enough.
Rene and Ben Langston, you guys are truly amazing. Thank you Rene for assisting me again with the hospital scenes and making sure I’m accurate with what I am writing. And Ben . . . wow! You took the time to read and edit my manuscript, and you not only polished it up, but you made the tedious task of running line edits so much fun with your humorous notes. The excitement you both share with me encourages me, and I love that I have the support of you two.
I have an amazing team that lie in the shadows of my books but shine so brightly in my life—my betas. You all not only spend countless hours hacking through my writing and helping me produce books I’m so proud of, but you are out there promoting and supporting. You help me perfect all the minute details; you stay up into the late hours when I decide to add a scene when we are two weeks away from publishing; you do a whole new read-though when I add an entire new plot line after the book is already written and edited. I know I might drive you girls crazy, but you stand solid with me, and I love each and every one of you for that! Thank you Nicki, Jennifer, Jennie, Kristina, JL, Elizabeth, Nacole, JC, Jenn, Lisa, America, Ashley, and Tina.
Thank you to Andrei Vishnyakov for the beautiful cover photo—it’s stunning. Thank you Denise and Nicola for supporting my books, especially this one. Denise, all of your words mean so much to me. You two are nothing less that incredible. Thank you to all of the bloggers and reviewers who have picked up my books and took the time to read, review, and promote. Thank you to all of my friends and family, but most of all, to each and every one of you who open your hearts and minds to my stories. THANK YOU!
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BONUS MATERIAL
(Erin, Mark’s sister)
I watch my big brother as he plops his duffle bag down on the floor. He’s wearing the vintage Mudhoney shirt I got him for his birthday a couple years ago. I love that he still wears it, but it’s grown smaller on him since he’s been hitting the gym more often.
“I’m gonna miss you.”
He looks over and starts walking toward me. “I’ll be back in a few months for Thanksgiving break.”
I love my brother. We’re close; we’ve always been that way, but this summer we really grew tight. I was worried about him right around his high school graduation a couple months ago. He became distant from my twin sister, Emily and me. He isolated himself from everyone, and it wasn’t long after when I overheard him telling our parents that he was gay.
Sitting at the top of the stairs, I listened to him cry while he told them. I was shocked, but more than anything, I was sad. He’s always been my strong, big brother. The one I go to with all my problems, knowing he will help me fix them. He’s always been protective over me and my sister, so when I heard the pain coming out of him, it killed me. I could tell he was scared. I was too. Afraid my parents would reject him and make him feel worse. I was terrified I would lose him if they did. I wanted to run down there and give him a hug, give him what little strength I felt like I had in me.
He mentioned a few guys at school knew and had been tormenting him toward the end of the semester. I’m glad he graduated and no longer has to deal with their bullshit. But now he’s leaving me to go across the country to The University of Washington. My heart feels like it’s too big for my chest as the sadness swells in me. I’m losing a big part of myself, but he seems happy to be going, so I try and suck it up for his sake.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” my mother asks as she walks into the living room where Mark and I stand.
“Yeah, I think so,” he tells her before reaching down to hold my hand.
I can’t even keep my sadness in. I try, but my quivering chin is my tell, and he sees it. He pulls me in, folding me up in his arms as I let the tears fall.
“Don’t cry. I promise I’ll call you as soon as my plane lands,” he assures me, but it isn’t enough to calm me.
“I want you to stay,” I choke out around my tears.
He pulls away and looks down at me, pretending to be unaffected, and says, “I know, but I can’t.”
He’s running. I can feel it. He would never admit to it, but I know he’s scared to stay here. This summer was rough on him when nearly all his friends turned their backs on him. Word spread fast that he was gay. I try and remind myself that leaving is probably the best thing for him, even though it hurts me.
I nod my head and sling my arms back around him.
“Where’s Emily?” my mom asks.
“She went over to a friend’s house,” Mark tells her. “We said our goodbyes earlier.”
“We should get going,” she says, and Mark loosens his hold on me.
“It’s gonna be weird not having you here,” I murmur.
“Just don’t take over my room with all of your crap. I’ll be back in a few months, and I want it untouched,” he jokes with me.
“Promise,” I say before he kisses my forehead.
(3 weeks later)
Mark has been gone for almost a month now, but he calls and texts often. He’s settled and started classes at U-Dub last week. He seems happy, so I’m trying to be as well.
“Em! Hurry up. We’re gonna be late!”
“I’m coming!” she snaps. “And we’re not gonna be late.”
Emily is feisty as hell. We are alike in that respect, but I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve where she has a toughness that I admire.
When Em comes down the stairs, I grab the car keys and head out. As she hops into the passenger seat, she starts, “I wonder if Gabe ever broke it off with that sophomore?”
“Why would he?” I question, and when I do, I see a huge grin spread across her face. “Oh, God. What did you do?”
“Nothing,” she says in a singsong voice that tells me she’s been up to no good.
“Spill it.”
“You can’t say a word. Promise.”
Watching the road ahead, I respond, “Promise.”
“So that party I went to Saturday night that you were too tired to go to . . . well, apparently his girlfriend was tired too and wasn’t there.”
“Cut to the point,” I tell her, not needing all the chitchat.
“He kissed me.”
“Em!”
“What?”
“He has a girlfriend!”
“Sooo?” she says as if she hasn’t a clue to how inappropriate it is. “We’re in high scho
ol,” she defends. “It isn’t like they’re getting married or anything.”
“You are unbelievable. Breaking up a relationship is not the way you want to start your junior year.”
“Oh, God,” she moans at me as I pull into the parking lot behind our high school.
Familiar faces are all around and everyone is happy, meeting up with their friends they haven’t seen all summer. I find our assigned spot and park the car.
“Well, as fun as this car ride has been, I’m gonna go see if I can find Gabe before the first bell rings,” she says before grabbing her backpack and hopping out of the car.
“Em.”
“Yeah?”
“That girl is gonna be hurt when she finds out. Just . . . don’t rub it in and make it worse on her,” I tell her.
She releases a deep sigh and nods her head. “Fine,” she reluctantly agrees and then walks away.
I reach in the back for my bag before heading in too. Walking through the busy halls, I find a few of my friends gathered around a locker.
“Hey guys,” I announce when I walk up to them.
Turning to look at me, Jenn closes her locker and walks away after giving me a snide look. I wonder what the hell I could’ve possibly done to piss her off. We haven’t spoke in about a month, but during the summer, that isn’t too uncommon.
Adjusting my backpack higher on my shoulder, I make my way to my first class. Already wanting to ditch, I pull out my phone and text Mark.
First day sux.
Switching my cell to silent, I walk into my English Comp. class and find a desk to situate myself at. I sit here, feeling uncomfortable when I notice the whispering going on around me. I wish my phone would buzz with Mark’s reply. Anything to distract me from my self-conscious thoughts.
I sit through class, anxious for it to end. Fifty minutes pass and I never feel my phone vibrate, but then the time difference dawns on me. It’s not even 6am in Seattle.
When the bell rings, I shove my book into my bag and try finding Em in the hall while I make my way to second period. Instead, I see Jenn, and I call out to her. Her friends walk away when I approach.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
She sighs, saying, “Come with me.”
I follow her as she leads me into the girl’s bathroom. She looks around to make sure we’re the only ones in here before speaking. “Everyone is talking about you and your sister.”
“What? Why?” I ask, completely confused.
“Erin . . . everyone knows about your brother. It’s all over school that he’s a fag.”
Emotions flood. A whole multitude of them. Worried. Embarrassed. Defensive. Angry. Sad.
“Don’t call him that,” I tell her, hating that term.
“Well, he is, isn’t he?” she whispers, like the words are infectious.
“No,” I snap. “He’s not a fag; he’s gay.”
“Don’t get all bitchy with me,” she snaps right back. “I just thought you should know what people are saying.”
“So they’re calling him a fag?”
She nods her head, adding, “They’re calling you things too.”
“Are you serious? Like what?” Oh my God. I can’t believe this. Panic shoots through me and I wanna run, but I stay to hear what I’m almost afraid to hear.
“That you’re a dyke.”
“What?!” I nearly shriek in disbelief. “Why would they say that?”
“I don’t know, but they are.”
“You told them I’m not, right?”
When her eyes shift down, I see it. Shaking my head at her, I plead, “Please tell me you said something.”
She doesn’t look at me, and my face heats as the tears begin to stain them. Jenn and I have been friends since elementary school, but I suddenly feel like I don’t even know her. How could she not defend me, but instead, betray me?
“Jenn?”
She meets my eyes when she looks up, and her words are drenched in annoyance when she defends, “Look, it’s bad enough that they’re saying that stuff about you, but I don’t want them saying it about me too.”
“So you’ll let them make fun of me as long as your name isn’t mentioned? I thought you were my friend.”
“I am,” she says softly. “But . . .”
“But what?”
She takes a moment before admitting, “ I don’t wanna be part of the gossip.”
I hear it. I hear the beating around the bush. I’m not stupid. “No. You’d rather be spreading the gossip than be the gossip,” I sneer before storming out the door, pissed that my friend would be so self-centered, worried about her own reputation than to stand up for me.
I rush through the halls, looking for Em, and when I spot her, she’s yelling at Gabe.
“What the fuck is your problem? You think you’re so goddamn perfect, huh?”
“Em!” I holler, trying to get her attention, but she keeps on, not even acknowledging me.
When I get close enough, I see Gabe laughing at her, and she loses it, fisting her hand and punching him right in the junk.
“Bitch!” he squeals out, clutching himself and falling to his knees.
“Em!” I shout, but before she can answer me, the principal is there.
“Office. Now.”
“Please explain to me how you manage to get suspended on the first day of school!”
“Mom, don’t yell at her,” I say, trying to defend Emily.
“No, really. Ms. Childers said that you punched a boy in the crotch? I mean . . . what in God’s name were you thinking?” she questions as I bust out laughing at the image of Emily socking that jerk in the nuts and his beet red face as he fell to the ground.
“This isn’t funny,” she scolds, and I immediately straighten up.
“Mom, everyone was calling Mark a faggot,” Emily tells her, and my mom leans back into the chair. Sadness washes over her face.
Em and I sit together on the couch, watching her try to hold it together. It takes her a moment when she finally speaks.
“They’re calling him that?” she questions in disbelief.
“Yeah, Mom,” Emily says softly, as if her words were spoken too loudly, could hurt our mother.
“Jenn pulled me aside and told me that they’re saying I like girls. That I’m a dyke,” I add.
“Well, did you tell the principal that?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t want to hear it. She was more concerned about the fight,” I explain.
“I want you to go talk to her tomorrow and tell her what those kids are saying.”
“I’m staying home.” Emily was the one who got suspended, not me, but I’m not going there without her.
“You can’t just stay home. You need to go and stand up for yourself. Don’t let them make you feel like you can’t go to school.”
“Mom, it doesn’t work that way. You don’t understand,” I tell her and then I feel my phone buzz from inside my pocket. I pull it out to see that Mark has finally responded to my text from earlier, but honestly, it’s too late. I don’t even read it when I shove it back into my pocket.
“I’ll go up there with you.”
“What? That’s even worse. You can’t come with me to school, Mom.”
“Just let her stay home tomorrow,” Emily chimes in.
Not wanting to argue, she surrenders, “Fine. One day. That’s all you get,” before standing up and walking out of the room.
I turn to look at Emily. “Thanks.”
She gives me a faint smile and says, “Yeah, sure,” in an almost defeated tone and then heads upstairs.
When I finally drag myself out of bed, it’s almost noon. No one has bothered me all morning. No one bothered me last night either, not even my dad. I know he’s been having a difficult time accepting that Mark is gay. He loves him, there’s never been any doubt about that, but he hasn’t been dealing with it well. I’m sure when Mom told him about what happened at school yesterday, he went into shutdown mode. He’s good at th
at when something is bothering him.
I go downstairs to grab a soda, and when I return to my room, I see the screen on my phone is lit up. It’s a missed text from Mark.
Never heard back from you yesterday. How did the rest of your day go?
Tossing the phone on the bed, I sit down and take a long drink. For the first time, I don’t wanna talk to him. Honestly, I’m mad at him. Mad that he created this storm that’s been slowly brewing. A storm that landed right on top of me. But he’s the lucky one. He had the ability to run away, and the first chance he got, he did. Ran straight to Seattle, leaving Emily and me to deal with the backlash. He’s a coward.
“Come in,” I say when there’s a knock on my bedroom door.
Emily opens it slowly, saying, “Hey,” as she walks in. “Mark just texted. Said he hasn’t heard from you in a couple days.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She cocks her head at me, asking, “What’s going on?”
“Aren’t you mad?”
“About yesterday?”
“About Mark. How he conveniently moved away and left us to deal with this crap,” I say.
As she takes a seat on the bed next to me, she admits, “In a way . . . yeah. I feel bad for saying it though.”
“It’s not fair. He’s off, having fun, while we’re stuck here.” I pause for a moment before adding, “Jenn didn’t even defend me when she heard what people were saying about me.”
“She’s a twat,” Emily says, and I burst out in laughter at her choice of words. And for a moment, as brief as it is, I feel the weight being lifted.
“Yeah, she is,” I agree through my now light chuckles. “But still. How shallow can a person be?”
“She’s pathetic and clearly not worth your time. Let her be a bitch to someone else.”
“But she’s being a bitch to me. She was actually pissed at me when I got upset when she told me she didn’t stop them from saying those things,” I say.