Typical. That’s all I am: a typical fifteen-year-old boy with typical green eyes, typical fawn hair that’s typically swept to the left side, a typically large group of friends, a typical knack for football, and an atypical talent for making just about every girl in the entire high school swoon over me. Sure, my family life might not be typical since my dad moved out when I was seven, but nobody’s families seem to be sticking together anyway these days. But compared to high school relationships, spending even seven years with a girl seems unfathomable to most of us. But don’t get me wrong, teenage girls are fine and all (I’ve been with more than my fair share of them to know), but there’s nothing you can’t figure out about them. Where are the mysteries and secrets? What is there left to discover about them? Nothing. Girls are made of sugar, spice, and everything nice. Typical. I am sick and tired of typical. I want something extraordinary.

“Mr. Sanders?”
I quickly jolted upwards. I must’ve been daydreaming again.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” I answered, trying to sound like I had been paying attention. I didn’t need another lunch detention. I had acquired enough of those. Big mistake. The whole class erupted in laughter, and Mrs. Lauden, the science teacher, rolled her eyes.
“I said, you are paired with Tyler Schaff for your group project,” she sighed. “Who’s Tyler?” I thought as I quickly scanned the room. I’d never heard his name before.

“Ok, class,” Mrs. Lauden barked, “take a seat with your partner and discuss your plan for the assignment. I expect them all on my desk by next Wednesday.” I decided to just wait until everyone had matched up with someone they would have to spend the next week bickering and trying to work together with . . . except for the one person who would be paired with me. But, as I glanced around, everyone seemed to be coupled off with someone. I began to panic, but then I noticed a group of three students flouting apart. There was a girl with florescent pink hair that sat behind me in history, a husky, dirty-blonde-haired boy with a buzz cut that seemed to always take residence in the principal’s office or detention hall, and a well-built, freckled, olive-skinned, brunette boy in a Nirvana tee shirt I’d never seen before. The latter must’ve been Tyler.

“Hey, Tyler,” I called, just to make sure, “over here!”
The freckled one waved and smiled in a way that warmed my heart and made me feel a little giddy. I was taken aback by myself and tried to steady my inhalation as he took the seat next to me. What is wrong with me? Getting all worked up over a science partner? No, that’s not Kai Sanders. Calm. Cool. Collected. CALM DOWN.

“So you’re Kai, right?” he asked casually, smirking, “The school’s star quarterback and heartbreaker?”

I laughed nervously. “That’s me, I guess.” He cuffed me on the shoulder and I jumped a bit. Why was I acting so bizarre around him? I tried to breathe evenly, but my heart kept racing like the Indy 500 as we discussed our task. When the bell rang, I gathered my books and slung my faded, red backpack over my shoulder. As I made my way for the door, a strapping hand grasped my arm and sent goose bumps across my chest. I whipped around and my eyes met Tyler’s. They were a miraculous shade of cerulean.

“So, my house or yours?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“For the project,” he chuckled. “Whose place do you wanna work at?”
“Oh, duh,” I thought. I had forgotten today was a Friday and we wouldn’t have much more time to complete the assignment after school.

“Um,” I stuttered, “do you think we could go to your house?”

“Sure, sounds cool. When does football practice end for you?”
My mind went blank for a second, and I got a sudden pang of guilt for knowing absolutely nothing about him before third period.

“Uh, 5:30 . . . Why?” I questioned, a bit confused. His statement seemed a bit off-topic.

“Ok, great, I’ll pick you up afterwards. My car will be waiting in the left parking lot,” he disclosed, as if this was no big deal. And I suppose it shouldn’t be. I guess I at least have to pretend like it isn’t. Then, with a half nod to me and a call to his friends down the hall, he was gone. And so was the warmth I felt with him around. It left behind an empty feeling that followed me through the rest of my classes, and marked my heart like a footprint in the cool, ocean-dampened sand. During every block I carefully studied all of my classmates, hoping that he was in another one of my lessons and I just hadn’t taken notice. But each hour brought new disappointment when he wasn’t at hand . . . at least not in person. But, no matter how hard I tried to just go on with my life as usual, I couldn’t get him out of my head. The rest of my day tortured me like so: algebra, English, Tyler, lunch, Schaff, history, pay attention, free period, keep it together, blue eyes, French, final bell!

“Okay class, see you next-“ I was out the door before my French teacher had even finished his sentence. Maybe getting tackled and knocked a few times upside the head and feeling the crisp Michigan air against my bare arms during football would make this all go away. Maybe I was dreaming. Much to my disappointment, as soon as my cleats scraped the turf, I was still off my a-game. I was fumbling passes left and right. I was forgetting plays. I was a mess.
“Come on, man, get it together!” my teammates hollered at me. It didn’t seem to help at all. It was like a thick, profuse fog had settled over my brain that I couldn’t escape. When coach blew his whistle, I let out a long sigh that resembled a leaking balloon that couldn’t stand the pressure and was ready to burst.
“Sanders!” barked Coach Williams, “What has gotten into you? One day you’re my star player and the next you’re acting as if the ball is a time bomb and you need to avoid it at all costs! If you don’t get your act together, I have a whole team full of other sweaty, good-for-nothing teenage boys who would kill for your position. Everyone’s replaceable. Remember that.”
“Yessir,” I stammered. This can’t be right. What’s happening to me? Why is Tyler ruining my life? It’s not like he was anything special. I’m just becoming fazed because I’m lonely. I just need a girl in my life. There’s nothing to be worried about. I wouldn’t ever possibly like him. I mean, I couldn’t, right?
“Yo Kai!” Tyler shouted, jogging towards me, and the fog I was in immediately parted, and my stomach knotted itself up all over again. Ok, so maybe I can like him. A simple “hello” refused to form on my tongue, so I just nodded and smiled, hoping he didn’t think I was being rude. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind us walking next to each other silently.
“I have to change real quick,” I finally interjected. “I’ll meet you back out here in like fifteen minutes.” With that, I sprinted back across the turf, my heart leaping in my chest, towards the locker rooms. Just before I opened the door, I felt a muscular hand grab the collar of my jersey and yank me around the corner. It was my best friend since the second grade, Tristan.
“Hey Kai, are you all right?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned, which was kind of unusual for a tough guy like him. My palms began to sweat and I tried to avoid his worried stare. Could I trust him? Would he really be able to keep my secret . . . that I might possibly like a guy? I didn’t really think I had a choice. Tristan and I have always told each other everything. I know that sounds totally gay, but so does my whole life right now.
“Listen man, I know this is gonna sound totally bogus, but just listen to what I have to say. I’ve been with so many girls in my time in this godforsaken school, and you and I both know that I’ve yet to find a girl I can actually enjoy being in a relationship with for more than a week. But there’s this guy in my biology class, Tyler Schaff, and I think he could be just what I’ve been looking for. And, I mean, I still like girls and all, but he’s different. I-” Tristan just stared at me wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, not saying a word. Oh man, here came the knots in my stomach again. But this time, they felt different than the ones I got from Tyler. These loops were tied together with pain and regret. The utter shock in Tristan’s face was like a blade to the heart. I was dead meat.
“Please,” I pleaded, “Swear you won’t tell anyone.”
He just shook his head, looked down at me, and mused, “I can’t believe it,” and walked right past me through the rusted metal teal door. I just stood there. Dumbfounded. Could Tristan really have just walked out of our life-long friendship because of Tyler? Next came anger. How dare he? I wished I had never met Tyler. My life was perfectly fine before him. I slammed the door open to the locker room with fury surging through my veins.
As soon as I barged in, I knew something was wrong. The whole team fell silent, pens and paper in hand, and all eyes locked on me. As I strolled down the rows of benches, I got a few disgusted or amused looks, and a sea of snickers seemed to follow my every move. When I opened my locker, several smudged, crumpled, white pieces of paper towel floated onto the floor. I unfolded the largest one, and I cursed under my breath. There were just three words on the paper. Three words that said it all: ‘hey gay boy’. I knew. Tristan had told them all. I didn’t even dare glance at the rest of the slips as I bolted out of the locker room, tears beginning to wash the dirt off my face. I just ran. I ran and ran and ran and never looked back. I ran past the field, the courtyard, the cheerleaders giggling with dirt-stained slips of paper in their hands, past the small band of trees behind the school grounds, past the little corner store at the end of my street, past my house with its dandelion yellow walls, and I wanted to keep darting until I disappeared forever. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grasped me by the arm and brought me to a halt. I spun around, ready to attack, but the rage vanished from my face as my eyes met his calm, deep, astonishingly sapphire eyes. But, it wasn’t long before I spotted the almost invisible piece of creased towel in his hand, and another horrible feeling arose: embarrassment. I choked back a sob and almost knocked him over in spite of our height difference as I marched toward my front door. I didn’t want Tyler anymore. All I wanted was to be inside the safety of my house and never see daylight again. No one in my family was home to stop me as I furiously made a beeline for my bedroom on the third floor. I immediately grabbed a Little League baseball trophy from when I was eight and smashed it into a million devastating pieces on the shaggy, tan carpet. I snatched up trophies, picture frames, medals, and anything else breakable I could find and brought each to its death as it shattered beneath my feet. When there was nothing else left in my room to deface, I wrestled myself into just a raggedy pair of charcoal gray sweatpants and stampeded down the spiral staircase into the dimly lit basement. I locked the oak door behind me and seized a pair of drumsticks off of the couch. I sat down on the dusty, leather stool that I hadn’t spent time on in at least two years, took a long, deep sigh, attempting to release all my pain, and beat my somewhat rusty, long-forgotten drum set for all it had. I drummed for a full half hour, never stopping to take a break. Never stopping to cry. Then, out of nowhere, a loud thud sounded on the basement door and it broke my trance, causing me to snap my drumsticks in half, showering splinters all over my chapped, burning red hands. Crimson blood dripped from my fingertips, staining the front of my trousers, but I had long since cared. Just then, the door burst open and daylight streamed into the musty basement. My mother and a well-built, olive-skinned, freckled boy stood at the top of the steps.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” my mom volunteered, gingerly closing the door behind her. As Tyler made his way down into my room of despair, I found it impossible to hate him. Almost automatically, I stood up and tried to hide my battle wounds behind my back. I expected him to mock me. I expected him to tell me I was queer. But he didn’t.

“You know, if you wanna be in my band, you might not want to play the drums so hard next time,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. I just nodded and tried not to look him in the eye. I just wanted to be alone. However, Tyler had other plans. He wrapped his arms around me in an embrace that shook away the rainclouds of the past hour and cloaked me in warmth that couldn’t even be matched by the sun itself. I hesitated for a second, but embraced him as well, and immediately regretted it. My walls finally came down that I had been building up all these years, and tears began to stream down my face like a harsh, hot, unforgiving waterfall. I didn’t care if he saw me cry. I had been through too much to ever care again.

“Kai,” he mumbled into my bare shoulder, “it’s going to be okay.”