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By Heather Klassen © 2008
My three closest friends are missing track practice today for some student leadership conference, so I’m stuck doing my pre-practice stretching by myself. I’m friendly with other people on the team, of course, but everyone has their cliques, and everyone basically respects those boundaries. Well, everyone’s in a clique except for Michael, I guess. He’s a totally shy geek, the slowest person on the team, who always plods along behind everyone else. Right now, he’s stretching out by himself, of course.
I walk past Michael and plunk myself down onto the grass without bothering to check out the clique I’ve plunked down next to.
Big mistake.
As I hear the murmurs start, I glance up. I’m sitting next to my least favorite group of people in this school, and they’re looking over at me, nudging each other. I know the comments are about to begin.
I keep on stretching, ignoring them. I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of watching me get up and move to another area of the field. I don’t think that my parents’ sexual orientation is any of their business. Of course everyone at school knows that my parents are gay, but most people are totally cool about it. They don’t seem to care one way or the other. And why should they? My family has nothing to do with them.
But this particular group of losers doesn’t see it that way. They’ve been harassing me all year, whenever they catch me alone. Now that we’re all running track together, it’s a little harder to steer clear of them, but I do my best. Like today, if I had been paying more attention, I would have chosen another spot to do my stretching. Now I feel stuck. I mean, I don’t want to get involved in a major hassle, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of making me move.
As I continue my stretching, it begins.
“Hey, Greg, how’s it going in the land of the homos?” Tony asks.
I ignore him.
Speaking loudly, pretending to be talking to the group but really aiming her comments at me, Courtney says, “My mom said that if a family like that moved into our neighborhood, we’d have to sell the house and move right away, before people found out and our property values went way down.”
“Why do you even call them a family?” Jacob asks Courtney. Then he turns toward me. “Greg, aren’t you worried about going to Hell? You know that’s where your so-called parents are going to end up.”
I work on my hamstrings and ignore their ignorance. Or at least try to. I’ve been hearing it for months, and I refuse to let it get to me. I won’t let them goad me into responding. I refuse to sink to their level.
But it still doesn’t feel good to just sit here and listen to it.
With my forehead bent toward my knee, I don’t notice that someone else has joined the conversation taking place next to me, until I hear a new voice saying, “Hey, you guys.” I look up to see that shy geeky Michael has left his stretching spot and is now standing next to the group on the grass.
I guess the losers are so surprised that Michael is talking to them that they actually shut up.
“I’ve been listening to you harass Greg for months,” Michael says. “I can’t just sit there and listen to it anymore.”
“What are you going to do about it, Michael?” Tony challenges him.
“I’m going to say something to all of you that needs to be said,” Michael replies. He looks right at Courtney. “Courtney, your mom is a single mother. She always has been, as I remember. That used to be scandalous. Not that long ago, she might have been forced to give you up, or been discriminated against because of your existence. But now your family is allowed to live in peace. No one cares about who lives in your house and who doesn’t.”
Courtney doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just stares at Michael.
“Jacob,” Michael continues. “Your mom’s white, and your dad’s black. Not that long ago your parents wouldn’t even have been allowed to get married. And if they had decided to live together anyway, they certainly wouldn’t have been able to live in Courtney’s neighborhood, as they do now.”
Jacob quickly looks away from Michael, as if there’s suddenly something really fascinating to study on the field.
“And Tony,” Michael says, “I remember when we were in elementary school and everyone found out that you were adopted. You always hated it when people would ask you stuff about your ‘real’ parents. I remember how upset you would get about that.”
“So what I wanted to point out,” Michael continues, “is that even though the three of you certainly don’t live in the typical family, nobody at this school harasses you about the way your family is or how it was formed in the first place. But you think it’s okay to be prejudiced against gay people. It’s okay to harass people because of who they love or who their parents love. Right?”
Tony, Courtney, and Jacob don’t respond to Michael’s question. They just stare at him.
“I’ll answer that for you,” Michael says. “Wrong. Harassing people because they’re gay, or their parents are gay, is wrong. Harassing people for any reason is wrong. And I’m not going to sit here and listen to you harass Greg for one more day. I don’t know why he’s never told anyone who could do something to stop you, but I will. I’ll tell the coach, and if she doesn’t do anything, then I’ll tell the principal. Whatever it takes to get you to stop.”
While I’m sitting there amazed that this kid I barely know is standing up for me like this, I’m also remembering the times my friends and I have mocked Michael, his slow, plodding gait, his whole geeky demeanor. We always did it behind his back, but other people saw us do it and laughed along with us. Whether Michael knew it or not, and whether I admitted it to myself or not, we were harassing him.
The coach’s whistle is blowing, so Michael turns to go, leaving Tony, Courtney, and Jacob sitting there like statues with stunned looks frozen on their faces, looking like maybe what he said actually got through to them. I know he got through to me.
As Michael heads toward the track, I jump up, run over, and grab him by the shoulder.
“Hey,” I say, “thanks. That was incredible. You’re really cool, Michael.”
“No,” he responds. “Just human.”
Yeah, I think, he’s just human like the rest of us, deserving of respect no matter what.
“Hey Michael, you want to run warmups together today?” I suggest.
“You sure?” he asks, staring at me.
“Sure,” I reply. “Let’s go.”
As Michael and I jog toward the track, I get the feeling that I won’t be getting harassed by that group of losers anymore. And I know for sure that Michael will never be mocked by my friends again. In fact, no matter how slowly he runs, I plan to be cheering him on.
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Heather Klassen lives with her family in Edmonds, Washington. She has been writing fiction for children and teenagers for the past twenty years and has had several books and hundreds of stories published in numerous magazines and anthologies. In addition to writing, she works part-time with children. Besides her favorite hobbies of reading and spending time with her family, she is an avid swimmer, having just learned how to swim four years ago.
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