Swing for the Fences

by Little Buddha

Chapter 25

The students began filing into the field house for morning assembly at around 8:30 a.m.

My stomach was doing somersaults.

Mark, Emery, Jonah, Danny, Jack, and I walked in together, looking like any other group of perfectly obedient, uniformed Harrison West boys. You'd never guess that half of us were about to stage the most coordinated act of rebellion this school had seen in years.

Maybe ever.

I'd never been a rule-breaker. Never even wanted to be. But in a few short minutes, I was going to walk out of that building – en masse – to protest the school's hypocritical, fear-based, backwards-ass policies that were trying to keep Jack and me apart. They were trying to tell us that loving each other, just because we're boys , was something to be hidden. Discouraged. Punished.

I looked down at my perfectly polished dress shoes and tugged slightly at the stiff collar of my uniform shirt.

I wasn't scared anymore, although maybe I should have been at least a little bit. I was a scholarship student, and because of my "disobedience," what if they decided to terminate my scholarship? That hadn't crossed my mind until just now, and I was starting to get a little worried.

Nevertheless, we boys had the same right to hold hands, to snuggle, to kiss, to explore our new feelings (within reason), and to love each other as any other students. We weren't ashamed. We weren't hiding. And we weren't going to let them make us feel like we were broken.

Christian found us a few minutes before the assembly started, weaving through the crowd with his usual untamed urgency.

"They have no idea ," he said, grinning like a cat with a secret. "Letter's been hand-delivered."

"To whom?" I asked.

"Dean Whitmore, the Board Chair, and the Headmaster," Christian said. "Signed not just by the Student Council, but the Rainbow-Straight Alliance, fifteen faculty members – fifteen , Nick – and hundreds of students."

My jaw dropped.

"You did all that last night ?"

He nodded. "Didn't sleep. Totally worth it."

I swallowed hard, heart thudding.

"Between your mom's email, the letter, and the walkout," he continued, "they're either gonna have to cave or have an even bigger problem on their hands."

"What if they start expelling people? Or take legal action?"

"They won't," he said. "Because if they do, we take this public . And they know it. Their whole 'diverse and inclusive' branding would go up in flames. Admissions would tank. Their national ranking? Gone ."

I nodded slowly, hesitatingly. "Okay. Let's do it."

At precisely 8:45 a.m., the Dean of Student Life took the podium and led the room in the school song.

It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.

Everyone stood. Everyone sang. Our voices echoed through the field house, stiff and polite and mostly off-key.

And when the final note died away… we moved.

Rising from our seats, nearly three-quarters of the students stood up in near-perfect unison.

Chairs scraped. Shoes scuffed.

And then we marched. Quiet. Calm. Determined.

From the looks on the administration's faces, they were clearly not expecting, nor prepared for, this kind of "open defiance" from a bunch of kids.

The Dean shouted, "Where do you think you're going? Everyone back to your seats!"

No one flinched and just kept moving.

Not a single person turned around.

We just kept walking.

It was terrifying standing up to all these adults – who I'd been taught to respect my whole life – and openly defy them. It took every bit of strength I had to just keep my eyes focused forward and not look back, just following the kids in front of me.

Outside, the April air was still cool – crisp enough that you could see your breath if you looked hard enough – but spring was on its way. The sun filtered down between the bare trees, as if we were stepping into something new. Something better.

Jack and I clasped hands the second we made it out to the quad. Our group found an adequate spot and all sat down together, determined not to move from our spot. Jonah, because he's Jonah, climbed right into my lap like a squirrel with zero self-awareness. Danny sat beside us, pressing against Jonah's side. Mark and Emery weren't far away, arms folded, expressions serious and proud.

Everywhere I looked, students were sitting – some in clusters, some alone, but all present . All a part of it. Some held handmade signs:

"Love is not obscene."

"No double standards."

"Equality means everyone."

"We belong here."

"Harrison West is a LIE"

There was no violence. No shouting. Just peaceful resistance. As Gandhi once said,

"Non-violence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind. It is mightier than the mightiest weapon of destruction devised by the ingenuity of man."

The power of presence .

We stayed there for three full hours.

Chanting. Holding signs. Sitting in silence. Looking our school in the face and daring it to look back.

And then – just before noon – a group of teachers emerged from the administration building and began walking through the crowd.

Ms. Freeman approached our group with a warm, tired smile.

"Classes are canceled for the day," she said. "The administration… needs time to process. Go back to your dorms. Rest. Stay quiet."

We exchanged confused looks.

"What does that mean ?" Jack asked softly.

"Did we… win?" Jonah whispered.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe. Maybe not yet."

We got up slowly and made our way back to Linden Hall. The whole school felt hushed now, like the moments after a thunderstorm when everything is still and waiting.

We didn't have answers.

But we'd made our move.

And now… it was their turn.

Waiting was pure torture.

Down in the common room, the buzz was electric. Every armchair was claimed, kids sprawled across the floor, and three or four bodies crammed onto each couch, all talking over each other in a roar of speculation. The air practically hummed with anticipation, every whispered theory sparking another. The handful of students who hadn't supported us had slunk back to their rooms, and at least none of them had the guts to throw shade on their way out. It helped that most of the "cool" kids and most of the athletes had planted themselves firmly in our corner – enough that the few homophobes left knew better than to open their mouths.

For a second, I let myself breathe. It felt almost unreal, seeing so many people choosing to stand with us instead of against us. After everything, the silence of the room wasn't filled with slurs or jeers, but with voices raised on our behalf. Still, no matter how much comfort that gave me, the knot in my stomach didn't loosen. We could have had the whole student body behind us, but in the end, it was the administration's word that mattered, and I was terrified of what it might be.

The walkout had lit a fire under the whole dorm, but in the end, our fate wasn't in their hands. It rested with a roomful of stuffy, conservative old men – products of another era – men whose ideas about homosexuality were decades behind, who would never see it the way we did. To us, it was simple, obvious, and normal. To them, we weren't. I really wished my mom could have been there at that moment, to calm me down, to tell me everything was going to be alright, to say she was proud of me, no matter what. But she couldn't that day. Fortunately, I still had Jack, and he was as fired up as I'd ever seen him before.

Everyone wanted to know what would happen next. Would there be suspensions? Would the school double down? Would someone get expelled? Could they even do that?

But the one thing that no one – not a single person down there – seemed to doubt?

That we were right .

None of us had done anything wrong.

So what if Jack and I cuddled? So what if we held hands walking across campus, or kissed between classes, or fell asleep in the same bed? Even the one time we ended up naked – by accident, not design – no one actually saw anything. Jonah had caught a glimpse, sure, but it was barely a glimpse, and he was on our side. It was hearsay, nothing more, and none of it broke any rules. What scared me now wasn't the school's handbook—it was the threat of legal consequences hanging over us, and the possibility that they'd use it as an excuse to separate Jack and me. I could live with a suspension, maybe even detention for the rest of the year. But losing him—or being expelled altogether? That would ruin me. And for Jack, it would be ten times worse. He'd be shipped back to California, trapped under his parents' roof, and I was terrified of what that might do to him – what he might do to himself.

It wasn't like we were sneaking off to abandoned buildings or breaking into faculty offices. We weren't throwing ragers or slipping Molly into our water bottles. We were in love , and we had the audacity to express it without feeling ashamed.

The school's own Honor Code didn't even forbid anything we did. There was a vague "strongly discouraged" clause about "sexual activity between students," but even if we had crossed that line – which, spoiler alert, we hadn't – it still wasn't technically punishable. The worst that could happen would be a talking-to by the Dean or a Guidance Counselor. However, now that we had learned that the State of Michigan might view things differently, although it was highly improbable that they would pursue anything, that added a new dimension of concern. I knew my mother would still want to fight, but did we have the money for a good attorney for something that could take months or years to sort out? I didn't think so, although I knew that she would try.

But no one ever raided the dorms after the football team's keg parties. No one ever said a word about the boys sneaking in girls from town or from Windsor Academy up the road. No one cracked down when upperclassmen bragged openly about what they did behind locked doors on weekends. No one cared – unless you were two boys.

So yeah. It wasn't about rules.

It was about us and using us to make a political or moral point. And it made me sick. Some of the stuffy old geezers on the board, along with a few deep-pocketed donors, thought the school was drifting too far left, too progressive for a conservative state like ours. So, they needed to rein it back in, to prove they still pulled the strings – and we were the convenient scapegoats.

Because if it had really been about rules, then why didn't Noah face consequences when he was actually caught having sex with another boy in his room? Everyone knew the answer. His parents were extremely wealthy, like most of the kids' parents here. They wrote checks with more zeroes than the rest of us could imagine. That bought him a free pass. At least, that's what Mr. G had told us before he got fired – about the geezers in the boardroom and about Noah's family. And the more I thought about it, the more it curdled in me: outrage that they could get away with such hypocrisy, and bitterness that I ever believed we'd be treated as anything close to equal.

But while all of that swirled and boiled downstairs, Jack and I had slipped quietly back up to our room. We didn't want to spend this limbo hour arguing about hypotheticals.

We just wanted to be together.

Because if this didn't work – if the school decided to make an example of us – Jack could be gone by morning. Reassigned to another dorm. Another hallway. Another world.

This might be our last real time alone.

And we were going to make every single second count.

For hours, we lay on my bed in just our underwear, the way we felt most comfortable together. Skin to skin, heart to heart. We kissed – first gently, with soft smiles and quiet sighs, then deeper, slower, with a kind of desperation that almost scared me.

It wasn't about sex.

It was about expressing our feelings for one another.

We didn't speak much. Just touched. Breathed. Stared into each other's eyes like we were memorizing every freckle, every flutter of an eyelash. And in a way, we were.

I thought about the grownups – those angry voices wrapped in suits and ties, priest's vestments, or stiff house dresses – telling the world that boys like us couldn't possibly understand love. That we were confused, corrupted, or worse, trying to recruit others into our so-called sin. They said we were dangerous. A bad influence . But the real poison was their self-righteousness, their fear dressed up as morality. We were just kids who wanted to be loved and accepted.

They insisted it was just hormones. Just a phase. That we were pretending to be something we weren't, playing grown-up without any grasp of what love or identity or consequences really meant. But the truth was, we understood those things better than they ever gave us credit for – because we had to. Because every moment of happiness we allowed ourselves came with risk, with fear, with the constant weight of someone else's judgment. And we still chose it. We still showed up for each other.

If that wasn't real, I didn't know what was. I'd seen it with my own eyes and heart since I'd been here.

But I did understand. Even if my fifteen-year-old heart didn't always have the right words, I knew what love felt like – and so did my friends. The adults who tried to lecture us, with their tired speeches and hollow warnings, thought they had a monopoly on truth and love. But ours was different. Fiercer. Purer. We loved without guarantees, without safety nets. And that made it real. That made it brave. We were willing to fight for it.

I knew what it meant to ache when Jack wasn't near. I knew how just one touch from him could slow my breathing and pull me back from the abyss. I wanted to give him everything – whatever it took to ease his pain, to make him feel safe. And when I was the one hurting, he was the first person I wanted to run to. Always.

I loved Jack. I loved him even when I didn't know what to call it. Even when I was with Noah, I pretended I could feel the same way. But it was always Jack. It had been Jack from the beginning – from that very first night when I invited him into my bed after his breakdown. I didn't fall in love later. I didn't grow into it. I started there. And maybe I was too young, or too scared, or just too stupid to realize it at the time – but that didn't make it any less true or real.

With every ounce of my scared, stupid, hopeful, fifteen-year-old soul, I loved him.

And I knew he loved me back.

Eventually, we were broken from our daze by a knock on the door.

We froze.

Automatically, we untangled ourselves, grabbed our clothes, pulled on jeans and hoodies, and made sure we were fully dressed before approaching the door.

I didn't care who it was. From now on, that door stayed locked when we were together.

No more surprises.

When I opened it, one of the upperclassmen prefects stood there – Caleb, I think. Tall, serious, lacrosse team type.

"The Headmaster wants everyone in the dining hall by six," he said, voice clipped. "He's making a statement. Attendance is mandatory."

My stomach dropped. "Did he say what it's about?"

"Nope. But everyone's expected to be there. On time. In uniforms."

I nodded, shut the door slowly, and turned back to Jack, who looked pale again.

I crossed the room, took his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I don't know what he's going to say," I whispered.

"Me neither."

"But whatever happens, we go through it together. Okay?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Okay."

I kissed his cheek, then reached for my shoes.

Dinner was waiting.

And so was a decision that could change everything.

A restless energy swept through the entire dining hall like a silent storm.

Chairs creaked. Silverware clinked. Voices hovered just above whispers. Every table buzzed with speculation – some nervous, some excited, some skeptical. The tension in the air felt like static. We were all just waiting for the lightning.

Would this be it? Would it finally be over?

Would they cave?

Or were we about to get blindsided again?

Jack and I sat side by side at our usual table, our hands clasped tightly beneath the edge. His palm was sweaty against mine, and I could tell he was trying to stay calm – but the way his knee bounced gave him away. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He squeezed back.

Jonah was perched in my lap, his legs curled up under him like a cat. He was bouncing nervously, which wasn't unusual, but he kept glancing at the front of the room like he was expecting the Headmaster to pull out a sword and sentence us all to exile at the Wall or something.

Danny sat close beside him, anchoring him with a quiet hand on his back. Mark and Emery sat together, arms folded, eyes forward. Christian hadn't said a word since we sat down, but he seemed cool as a cucumber.

At exactly 6:00 PM, the lights dimmed slightly, and a hush fell over the room. The sound of footsteps echoed as the Headmaster – Dr. Redmond – ambled up to the podium at the front of the dining hall.

He wore his full formal blazer with the school crest embroidered over the breast pocket.

His expression was grave, but not cold. Focused. Measured.

He placed a piece of paper neatly in front of him. Adjusted his glasses. Looked out over the crowd of students, faculty, and some parents.

And began reading from his prepared remarks:

Good evening, students, faculty, and staff.

I come before you tonight not with platitudes, but with clarity, accountability, and an important message regarding recent events that have profoundly affected our community.

In light of the recent allegations of inappropriate sexual activity involving several of our students, the administration has completed a full and swift review of both the allegations and the school's response. After careful consideration and reflection, along with meaningful input from students, faculty, staff, and parents, it is clear that we have fallen short of the values that Harrison West Academy claims to stand for.

Let me be clear: all previously issued disciplinary actions related to this matter are hereby reversed, effective immediately .

Our initial response to this situation did not reflect our school's commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion. Our actions have undermined the trust we sought to build, especially among students from marginalized identities.

At Harrison West Academy, we reaffirm that all students – whether cisgender, heterosexual, gay, queer, questioning, or otherwise – deserve to feel safe, seen, and respected. That includes the right to explore identity, relationships, and emotional growth in a supportive and responsible environment .

Cuddling, holding hands, and kissing are normal, age-appropriate expressions of affection. These behaviors, when done respectfully and in appropriate contexts, do not constitute misconduct – regardless of the gender identities of those involved.

After careful review, it has been determined that no inappropriate sexual activity could be confirmed in this case. However, the school has an obligation to remain aligned with State law. Therefore, our handbook will be amended to state explicitly that all sexual activity between students is forbidden. In cases where such activity is coercive or non-consensual, the punishment will be immediate expulsion. In other situations, depending on the circumstances, repeated occurrences may result in disciplinary action up to and including suspension, in line with the policies of most elite preparatory schools across the country.

At the same time, the administration acknowledges that our handling of this matter may have felt overly public and heavy-handed, and for that, we extend our sincere regret. Each student's situation is unique, and we recognize the need to approach these matters with greater discretion and care. From now on, investigations will be conducted more quietly and thoroughly, with the primary reporting mechanism remaining under the purview of the dorm parents. They will be entrusted with significant discretion in handling these matters, ensuring that any disciplinary measures are fair, reasonable, and respectful of all parties involved.

I want to be clear: our purpose is not to shame or punish young people for growing up, but to ensure that our policies reflect both our legal obligations and our duty of care. These changes are made with reluctance, but with the understanding that our first responsibility is to protect students' safety while preserving an environment focused on learning, emotional growth, and mutual respect.

To that end, our sexual education curriculum will be expanded to include inclusive, accurate, and age-appropriate education on topics related to LGBTQ+ health and relationships , so that all students – regardless of orientation – receive the information they need to make responsible and respectful decisions.

I also want to acknowledge that this situation revealed deeper issues in how our school has handled reports of misconduct across the board. While a group of students were scrutinized for relatively mild affection behind closed doors, other, more serious infractions – including unsanctioned parties involving drugs, alcohol, sneaking members of the opposite gender onto campus, and other unsafe behavior – were ignored or inadequately addressed.

That disparity is unacceptable.

Because of this, and the failure in leadership it represents, I am announcing the following administrative changes:

I know that trust, once broken, is not easily restored. But I want to say to every student in this room – especially those who felt targeted, marginalized, or afraid in the past week:

You matter. Your voice matters. Your identity matters.

We will do better.

This school belongs to all of you.

Thank you.

— Dr. Malcolm Redmond Headmaster Harrison West Academy

Once the Headmaster stepped down from the podium, the room erupted in cheers.

It was like the whole dining hall exhaled at once. People stood. People clapped. People whooped and pounded on tables. I even saw one of the orchestra kids jump up and twirl his napkin over his head like a lasso.

Okay, not everyone clapped. A few sourpuss types stayed seated, arms crossed, faces tight. But I wasn't going to let that ruin anything. Not tonight.

We'd won. We won! Well … mostly. There were still a few questions hanging in the air, and the one that clawed at me the most was whether they'd force Jack and me to switch rooms. That thought sat in my chest like a rock, heavier than all the relief rushing through me.

Before anyone could herd us back to our dorms and prep, the entire room surged toward the dessert and coffee bar like a sugar-crazed stampede. The staff had gone all out—brownies, cheesecake squares, lemon bars, cookies the size of dinner plates. Kids were double-fisting hot chocolates, balancing lattes like trophies. It was glorious, ridiculous chaos, caffeine-fueled joy spilling into every corner.

But while everyone else was piling plates high, I hung back. I needed answers before I could celebrate. If I didn't ask, my anxiety and paranoia would chew me up alive for the rest of my time at Harrison West. And there was only one person in the room who could give me those answers definitively: Dr. Redmond. The Dean. The man who terrified me to death.

So, while the other kids were cheering and celebrating, I worked up the nerve to approach Dr. Redmond, who was still standing near the lectern. My stomach was twisted into knots, my palms slick with sweat, and I was pretty sure my voice was going to crack the second I opened my mouth, or worse yet, I'd shit my pants. Still, I introduced myself as one of the boys at the center of everything. He gave me a small, almost kind smile and shook my clammy hand, though even that tiny gesture carried the weight of authority that made me feel about two feet tall.

I forced myself to ask the question that had been gnawing at me. "Dr. Redmond, sir, who's going to enforce the new regulations? I mean, who decides what counts as sexual activity, and what the punishment should be?" My voice shook, and I couldn't quite meet his eyes.

His reply was careful, measured, almost clinical. "As I said in my statement, in most cases, dorm parents will use their discretion. If the matter is more serious, such as in the case of non-consensual activities, they will escalate it to senior staff for review, and the school will determine the course of action."

I nodded quickly, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, and managed the question that truly terrified me. "And what about my roommate, Jack? I was told we might be forced to switch rooms."

For a moment, he studied me, and I had to fight the urge to look down at my shoes. Then he gave the faintest sigh, his tone softening just a little. "Ah, yes. Nick and Jack. It's true that was the initial plan. However, we've since received several messages – from your mother – who is a physician that knows Jack's situation quite well – as well as from your former dorm parent Mr. G, from Jack's psychiatrist, and from the school psychologist. They were unanimous in their concern that separating you would be extremely harmful to Jack's mental health and his ongoing treatment. In light of those recommendations, we've decided to maintain the status quo – for now. Provided, of course, that you and Jack follow the rules. As long as you stick to no more than holding hands, appropriate kissing, and hugging, you have nothing more to worry about."

The relief that washed over me was almost dizzying. My knees felt weak, and I probably tripped over my words when I stammered out a thank-you. Even as I backed away, I could still feel his gaze on me, and it made my pulse race. The moment I was clear of him, I bolted to find my friends, nearly bursting with the news. For now, at least, Jack and I would stay together. And once again, my mom had come through for me.

Back in Linden Hall, prep was a total joke. Nobody was concentrating; the whole dorm was still buzzing, riding the high of what we'd pulled off. Of course, I filled my friends in on what Dr. Redmond had told me. It wasn't perfect, but it was something we could live with. And let's be real—anyone who was already having sex wasn't about to stop. They'd just have to be smarter about it now. Jack and I weren't even close to that stage in our relationship, so it wasn't exactly keeping me up at night. Still, I couldn't help imagining – hoping – that someday it would be something we'd need to think about. And knowing us, we'd probably overthink it to death – make a chart, argue about timing, maybe even test out positions with clothes on first just to be "prepared." Someone would probably bang on the wall halfway through and yell something obscene. The thought made me grin and blush at the same time, because in Linden Hall, even the idea of us being careful would've turned into a running joke by breakfast.

Sure enough, Jonah smirked from across the room and called out, "Don't bother with charts, Nick – just remember: if the bed ain't squeakin', you ain't doin' it right! "

The whole dorm erupted, and I buried my face in my hands, half mortified, half laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

I expected Jack to be bouncing off the walls, too.

But he wasn't, and that worried me.

Jack just sat at his desk, doing his homework. Quietly. Calmly. Like it was any other night.

I was practically vibrating in my seat—because holy hell, we got to stay together. We could keep holding hands in public, and maybe – just maybe – someday soon even work up to actual real-life sex . Just the two of us, in private, of course. And who knows? If we really pushed our luck, maybe even a little extra-credit "play time" as well . The best part was knowing we wouldn't have to live in constant fear of being expelled for it, because even if we did get caught, the worst punishment would only be suspension. However, I guess if we got caught too many times, we could be expelled, but that was a worry for another day, far in the future.

But Jack?

He didn't say much. He didn't smile. He barely looked up from his notebook.

It was weird. Even for him.

After prep, he stood up and stretched like a tired cat.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he mumbled, already halfway to the door.

And I – fueled by sugar, caffeine, and a very naughty idea – blushed like crazy and said, "Want some company?"

Jack stopped in the doorway and looked back at me with a lopsided, tired smile. "Not tonight," he said gently. "But… sometime soon."

My cheeks were still on fire after the door shut behind him.

I flopped back onto my bed, trying not to overthink it. Jack was allowed to have moods.

He was weird and complicated. That was part of the deal.

But this didn't feel like just a mood.

And I didn't know how to fix it.

I was still stewing over it when there was a soft knock at the door.

Assuming Jack forgot his towel or something, I hopped off the bed and opened it.

But it wasn't Jack.

It was Mr. G.

He stood in the hallway, not smiling, just holding his hands in front of him like he wasn't sure what to do with them.

"Hey, Nick," he said. "Can I come in for a second?"

I nodded and stepped aside.

He walked in slowly, looking around as if it might be for the last time.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," he said quietly.

My chest tightened. "You're… leaving?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'll be gone in the morning."

"Wait – you're one of the faculty being put on leave?"

He nodded again. "Administrative leave. Pending whatever 'internal review' they're doing."

I stared at him, unsure what I was feeling. Anger? Sadness? Guilt?

"I know you're probably still upset with me," he said. "And honestly? I don't blame you."

I sat down on my bed. "I don't know what I am. You helped me so much, Mr. G. You made this place feel … safe . And then –" I swallowed. "Then you said those things. Like we disappointed you. Like we'd done something wrong."

He exhaled, sat gingerly on the edge of Jack's bed.

"They gave me an ultimatum, Nick," he said. "Come down hard on you boys… or lose my job."

I looked at him. "And you lost it anyway."

He gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Irony, huh?"

For a moment, we just sat in silence.

"I really do care about you. About all of you," he said. "Still do."

"I know," I whispered. "I just wish you'd fought for us."

"So do I, son. So do I."

"But I really do have to thank you," I said softly, eyes fixed on the floor. "For helping keep me and Jack in the same room. I was so worried about that… and you made it easier to breathe again."

"It was the least I could do, son," he said with a gentle smile, his voice catching just slightly. He laid a hand on my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "You and Jack are awfully special boys – and I know you love each other. Hold on to that. Hold on to him. If you want it to last, you both have to learn to communicate openly, honestly, and with a lot of patience. I only wish I could've done more to help him through his struggles. But now it's up to you – keep an eye on him for me. If he has another breakdown, or even if something just feels off, take him straight to the infirmary. They'll know how to reach his doctor and therapist right away. All right?"

He rose to his feet and extended his hand.

I slipped mine into his, my fingers trembling despite my best effort to steady them. His grip was firm, steadying, almost like he was passing something to me – trust, responsibility, maybe even hope. And as I let go, I knew that feeling would stay with me long after I walked away.

And then he left.

The door clicked shut behind him just as Jack walked back in from the showers, towel around his waist, hair damp and messy.

"Was that Mr. G?" he asked, heading toward his dresser.

"Yeah," I said. "He's leaving tomorrow. Came to say goodbye."

Jack didn't answer. Just pulled on his pajamas in silence.

After a moment, I got up and walked over to him. Put my hands on his shoulders. Pulled him into a hug.

But he tensed.

Like he didn't know how to be held right now.

I let go.

"Jack, I wish you wouldn't do this," I said softly.

"Do what?"

"Shut down. Pull away. Just go quiet like this. It kills me not knowing what I did or said, or if it's even about me. We've talked about this so many times before, and you promised you'd try harder not to shut me out."

Jack stared at the floor.

Then he whispered, "I'm sorry, Nicky. I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just…" He exhaled hard. "It's hard to feel like celebrating when I know my parents already got that call from the school. About all my 'deviant behavior.'"

My heart sank. I'd forgotten all about that.

"They're not gonna care that the school retracted it. What happened still happened . I'm scared they're going to pull me out anyway."

I just stood there, stunned.

After everything… we still might lose each other.

Later that night, I called my mom.

I told her the whole rollercoaster of the day – from the celebration to Mr. G's goodbye, to this new nightmare.

She listened quietly before finally saying, "We'll figure it out tomorrow. But tonight, just be with your boyfriend – that's what matters right now. Let me worry about the rest. We'll find a solution, I promise. You've been through so much, baby. I just want you to take it easy, focus on school, focus on Jack, and let me carry a little of that weight for you. I'm your mother. That's my job."

My throat tightened at her words, and for the first time all day, I felt a little of the weight lift off my shoulders. And it reminded me how much I missed my mommy. I didn't care if it made me a wuss; I would probably always be a momma's boy.

So, I got ready for bed.

Slipped under the covers.

I didn't know if Jack would come tonight. I really wanted him to. I needed him.

He didn't come right away.

But a few minutes later, I heard soft footsteps. Felt him standing beside me.

And then, without a word, Jack took off his shirt.

Then his pajama bottoms.

Then his underwear.

He stood there, bare and beautiful in the moonlight, with something fragile in his eyes.

I pulled back the blanket, kicked off the rest of my clothes, and reached out.

He climbed in next to me and curled into my arms like he'd been waiting all day for it.

We didn't speak.

We just kissed.

We held each other.

Touched each other's faces, backs, arms, legs, chests – tracing the outlines of each other's soft, fleshy, rounded butts, that we already seemed to know by heart.

And if tomorrow came with more storms?

We'd deal with them then, but not alone … with all our friends.

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