I'm Not Gay

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

I stiffened at the sound of heels echoing outside the office. There was a halt, a brief exchange of words, and then its continuation. When the principal walked in, I straightened my back and watched her settle behind her desk. She opened a cabinet and skimmed her fingers over the files before plucking one out. It was my student record. My name was printed in bold letters on the yellow folder, and my ugly ID picture was stapled on the top right corner. Fortunately, the principal opened the file, and my mugshot was out of sight.

"Desmond Mellow," she read aloud. "Seventeen-years-old, lives with mother, previously attended Junjay High, expelled for behavioral issues and indecent acts, and has now transferred to Ivory All-Boys high school."

She paused, peering at me over her horn-rimmed glasses. "Is that correct?"

"Yes," I answered stiffly.

She went on reading. "Below average grades, doesn't take part in any physical activities, doesn't participate in any clubs, has no instrumental talent and-"

"Mom," I groaned. "Do we have to do this right now? Class is starting soon, and I don't want to be late on my first day."

"We would have gone through this at home if you hadn't sprinted off without me. I told you I'd drive you to school."

"I wanted to take the bus." An obvious lie.

"No, you're still mad at me," she interjected.

I remained silent.

"I know changing schools is hard, but I did this for your own good."

"If you know, then did you make me transfer? I was suspended from my last school, not expelled. I could have gone back after three weeks," I snapped.

"For goodness sake Desmond, don't you remember how you were always getting into fights? Do you even know how worried I was when you came back home covered in bruises and injuries?" she demanded. "I don't understand why you were acting so rebelliously. What were you trying to achieve with that kind of behavior? What point were you trying to prove? I just don't understand how and why you're so different from-"

I glared at her and she stopped, taking in a deep breath to calm herself down.

"Ivory High has a great reputation. The students here have some of the best academic scores in the country. The boys here are very kind and smart. You'll make new friends soon."

I rolled my eyes.

"Being smart isn't a personality trait. And no offense, Mom, but this place could burn to hell and I'd still sleep like a baby."

"Do you think leaving you in your previous high school would have been any better? That environment and the crowd you hung out with was no good, and you know it. Do you know I worried I was? Your behavior scared me. Ditching classes every week? Going out with your so-called friends to who knows where doing who knows what? Getting into fights and coming home with bruises and injuries? What were you thinking?!"

I clearly wasn't if I was stupid enough to get caught.

"I've had enough of this teenage phase of yours. At least here I'll be able to keep a closer eye on you, and I won't have to worry about getting a call from the principal."

Her joke didn't make me laugh, and I glared at her.

"Would you like me to remind you why you were suspended?" she asked, raising her angular brows and folding her hands together.

"You promised not to bring that up again," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks redden. I was caught in a situation that involved me, a girl, and very few clo in a classroom. We had forgotten to lock the door, and our English teacher walked in on us, screaming when she found two of her students half-***** on the very desk she corrected our papers on.

She reported us to the principal's office, and word spread quickly around the school. To the students, I was a legend. To the adults, I was a horny boy who couldn't keep it in his pants. My mom was furious when she found out, and my busy dad had to cancel his business trip to Singapore to discuss my "unacceptable behavior" with the school authorities.

My English teacher, a kind Christian lady, had to go through therapy due to the traumatic experience. I wrote her an apology letter, which went something like:

Dear Mrs. Hilary,

I am sorry that you had to see my bare bum. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my unholy behavior. God bless you.

Yours Truly,

Desmond Mellow

I was originally supposed to be suspended temporarily but my mom, as she just said, was tired of seeing me get into trouble, thought that it'd be a good idea to send me to my worst nightmare, Ivory High.

"Hopefully this place will help you focus more on your studies and less on girls."

Heat rose to my face at her words and I quickly raked a hand through my dark, brown hair.

"I should go now. I'm going to be late," I said, using whatever excuse I could to get out of here.

"Wait, Des," called my mom, stopping me in my steps. "I want you to be on your best behavior, okay?"

"It depends on your definition of "best behavior," I chuckled half-heartedly. She narrowed her eyes, obviously not appreciating my sense of humor.

"Best behavior as in going to all your classes, handing in your homework on time, no fighting, and no indecent acts in a classroom."

My eyes widened at her last remark.

"Mom!" I hissed. The fact that I blushed at the smallest things wasn't helping either. "They're all boys."

"You know I support the LGBTQA+ community with all my heart, and that I love you for who you are and not who you like," she said, taking a motherly tone. "Just make sure it's done with consent and condoms."

"Mom, I'm not gay," I deadpanned.

"Okay, son."

Another groan escaped my mouth.

"There's no need to be embarrassed," she said in that reassuring voice adults always used. "You did it with a girl in a classroom in your last high school-"

"Exactly! A girl."

"You never know," she insisted.

"I'm not- Never mind," I grumbled, grabbing my bag and leaving her office before she could start teaching me how to use lube.

"Have a great day, sweetie!"

I closed the door behind me before she started teaching me the importance of lube. I walked away from her office before stopping in my steps, banging my head against the lockers in embarrassment. The conversation I had needed to be burnt from my memory, and fast. The bell rang and my eyes widened. Snap, I was late for class!

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