Free Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg Page B

label, and been given another one that didn’t fit, and been okay with the mislabeling because atleast it wasn’t negative. And I wanted so much to tell Ben my story, because he seemed like the kind of person who would be totally okay with it. But I also knew that doing that would change everything. And I didn’t want to change everything. So I said nothing. Well, nothing about that, anyway.
    “I know. I’m so tired of being a type,” I repeated.
    “Bryce and I, we always talk about that. He always says that if Natick is a microcosm of this country, we might as well still have separate but equal facilities. And it’s not just a black and white thing. Jock. Geek. Stoner. No one is considered just a human being, it seems like.”
    I couldn’t help myself. I turned to Ben and latched a hand on his shoulder. “I want to be just a human being,” I said, with great urgency in my voice.
    “You’re drunk off your skull,” Ben said.
    “No. Really. That’s what I want. I’m always trying on labels, and I want to be entirely label-free.”
    “Now that’s interesting,” Ben said. “But is it possible?”
    “I am going to find out,” I said as we pulled into the parking lot behind East Hall.
    “Let me know how it goes,” he said, and I felt a pang in my heart, because I didn’t want the conversation to end.
    “The main thing I need to stop doing is caring who likes me,” I said, and I wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but in my drunk state, it made a ton of sense. I flashed back to the spinning room and Spinnah, and I knew it was true.
    He turned off the ignition. “Ya think?” he asked.

LIKE MOST MAJOR moments in my life, coming out was totally random. Spring of eighth grade. I was up in my room on a school night, thinking about Garth. Garth was this kid who also ran cross-country at the time. He’s since moved to California. We weren’t really close friends, but he was pretty chill, and we’d say hi, that sort of thing. But I totally liked Garth. And I was okay with that. I’d been thinking about Garth for weeks, and before that, Mason. And before that, Corey Westerly, who was the first guy in our class to lose his virginity, back in sixth grade. So it wasn’t like I was sitting up there and I had this epiphany: Wow! I’m gay! I had known that for a long time. I guess if there was an epiphany, it was like, I’ve got a feeling, and no one else knows about it. Maybe I should tell Mom and Dad .
    So that was it. No major breakdown, no thoughts about whether I’d be homeless. More like, I could enjoy chocolate ice cream, but I prefer strawberry. I should tell the folks so they stop buying chocolate. I walked down the stairs, not scared, exactly, but surprised. Because I didn’t wake up that day and think: Today I’m going to tell Mom and Dad I’m gay .
    I simply walked into the kitchen and told them.
    There weren’t any huge emotions on either side. Just a nice sit-down discussion. Mom, Dad? I want you to know I’m gay. Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful! We’re so glad you told us!
    I wasn’t surprised that they weren’t surprised. But I did want to know how they knew.
    “Oh, sweetie,” my mother said. “You’re our son. We know who you are.”
    We hugged, and my dad cried a little. I don’t have a macho-type dad, who hunts and fishes and collects guns. He’s sensitive and caring. He drives me crazy most of the time, but I do admire that he’s not afraid to show his “feminine side.”
    But for me, that’s when the trouble started. I figured I’d come out to my parents, get my first boyfriend, and then just live my life. No. Instead, it was like this thing had happened, and now we all had to mobilize. (I should have known. My mom is a mobilizer.) Suddenly there were six books I had to read about what it’s like to be gay. I said to her, “Mom, can’t I just be gay, and not read about it?” But she explained — and Dad backed her up — that we need to know history. Those