Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

“I don’t even think people really read the Tumblr.”


We walk in through the atrium together just as the first bell is ringing. People are stampeding and pushing down the stairs. No one seems to pay any particular attention to me—and for all of Nora’s reassurances, I can see that she’s as relieved as I am. I move with the crowd, working my way toward my locker, and I think I’m finally starting to relax. A couple of people wave at me like normal. Garrett from my lunch table nods and says, “What’s up, Spier?”

I toss my backpack into my locker and pull out my books for English and French. No one has slid any homophobic notes into the slats of my locker, which is good. No one’s etched the word “fag” into my locker yet either, which is even better. I’m almost ready to believe that things have gotten a little better at Creekwood. Or that no one saw Martin’s Tumblr post after all.

Martin. God, I don’t even want to think about having to see his stupid evil face. And of course he’s in my first fucking period.

I guess there’s still this quiet pulse of dread when I think about seeing Martin again.

I’m trying to just breathe.

As I’m walking into the language arts wing, this football guy I hardly recognize almost runs directly into me coming down the stairs. I step back to steady myself, but he puts his hand on my shoulder and looks me right in the eye.

“Why, hello there,” he says.

“Hi . . .”

Then he grabs me by the cheeks and pulls my face in like he’s going to kiss me. “Mwah!” He grins, and his face is so close I can feel the heat of his breath. And all around me, people laugh like fucking Elmo.

I yank my body away from him, cheeks burning. “Where are you going, Spier?” someone says. “McGregor wants a turn.” And everyone starts laughing again. I mean, I don’t even know these people. I don’t know why in God’s name this is funny to them.

In English class, Martin won’t look at me.

But all through the day, Leah and Abby are like freaking pit bulls, throwing down the stink-eye in all directions whenever anyone even looks at me funny. I mean, it’s really pretty sweet. And it isn’t a total disaster. Some people sort of whisper and laugh. And a couple of people randomly give me these huge smiles in the hallway, whatever that means. These two lesbian girls I don’t even know come up to me at my locker and hug me and give me their phone numbers. And at least a dozen straight kids make a point of telling me that they support me. One girl even confirms that Jesus still loves me.

It’s a ton of attention. It kind of makes my head spin.

At lunch, the girls take it upon themselves to discuss and evaluate the fifty million guys they apparently think are boyfriend prospects for me. And it’s all perfectly fucking hilarious until Anna makes some joke about Nick being gay. Which causes Nick to drape himself all over Abby. So then Leah’s irreparably pissed off.

“We should find Leah a boyfriend, too!” says Abby, which honestly makes me cringe. I love Abby, and I know she’s just trying to lighten the mood, but Jesus Christ. There are times when she manages to say the exact opposite of the right thing.

“No fucking thank you, Abby,” Leah says, in this sickeningly pleasant tone. Except her eyes are like crackling fireballs of rage. She stands up abruptly, pushing her chair in without a word.

As soon as she leaves, Garrett looks at Bram, and Bram bites his lip. Which I’m pretty sure is straight-dude code for Bram likes Leah.

And I don’t know why, but it pisses me the fuck off.

“If you like her, just ask her out,” I say to Bram, and he immediately starts blushing.

I don’t even know. I’m just so sick of straight people who can’t get their shit together.

Somehow, I manage to survive until rehearsal. It’s the first day without scripts, and we jump right into running some of the big group scenes. There’s an accompanist at rehearsal now, and people are really focused and energized. I guess it’s just dawned on everyone that opening night is in less than a month.

But partway through the pickpocket song, Martin suddenly stops singing.

And then Abby says, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

And everyone is quiet for a minute, looking at each other. Looking everywhere but at me. For a minute, I’m confused, but then I follow Abby’s gaze to the back of the auditorium. And there’s this pair of random dudes in front of the double helixes who look a little familiar. I think they were in my health class last year. One of them is wearing a hoodie and fake glasses and a skirt over his khakis, and they’re both holding giant poster board signs.

The first guy’s sign says, “How u doin’ Simon?”

And the guy in the skirt’s sign says, “WHAT WHAT—IN THA BUTT!”