Page 72 of Pride High 3: Yellow

Instead of going straight to the cafeteria after third period, Anthony made a detour to the school parking lot, popped the trunk of his car, and took out a stack of paper. He’d been working up the nerve to distribute his article all week. The morning had provided him with extra motivation when Graham Fowler called him a faggot in the hall. Anthony would have said something back, if he hadn’t needed to grab Omar’s arm to stop his best friend from leaping into the middle of a pack of smirking apes. His indignation on Anthony’s behalf was moving, but neither of them would have lasted more than a few seconds in that fight.

The pen was mightier than the sword anyway, or so they claimed. He was about to find out. Anthony plonked the stack of paper down on the cafeteria table where his friends sat. “Who wants a copy of the Cullen Chronicle?” he asked.

“I do!” Ricky cried before accepting one.

“Sure!” David said, taking two copies for him and Dave. They seemed a little uncomfortable with the gay thing—Dave especially—but at least they both began reading the article.

Omar perked up. “Are you passing them out today?”

“Yup!”

“I’ll help you,” Cameron offered, already getting to his feet.

“Me too,” Omar said.

Anthony shook his head. “I want to do it myself. Otherwise, people who don’t know us might think that you’re outing me. I’m doing it this way to tell everyone who I am in person.”

“I can go with you at least,” Cameron said. “As emotional support.”

Anthony shot him a look of gratitude. “You’ve already done enough by helping me print it out.” Which took more effort than just pushing a button and letting the printer do its thing. For whatever reason, each page that came out was connected to the rest of the paper in the stack. They’d had to separate each along a perforated line before pulling off strips of paper on the sides filled with holes that the printer used to keep the ream moving. Computers were veryveryweird.

But the results were great! Anthony had one hundred copies to distribute. He grabbed the stack and began with the tables occupied by students from their grade, since he was more familiar with them, although he soon had to step outside his comfort zone. No matter how he felt inside, he didn’t let himself appear shy when handing out the copies. He made sure to tell people what the article was about, and why he was doing it.

“Hey there! I’m gay. This article is about me. The school doesn’t want you to read it.”

Plenty of people laughed or scoffed, but variations of that last line ensured that he got their attention. Anything adults wanted to keep from teenagers was instantly of interest. A couple of guys seemed especially nervous or quiet when accepting his article, which made Anthony hopeful that he was reaching the people who needed it most. Although that included more than just students who might be closeted.

He considered the table where Graham Fowler was sitting with his cronies. Anthony’s instinct was to avoid it out of self-preservation, but he wanted them to know that he wasn’t intimidated—even though he was, but not enough to deny the truth. He didn’t want Graham to catch wind of his article from someone else and assume that Anthony had been the victim of a prank. So he reminded himself of how he’d felt this morning, the anger motivating him to march over to their table.

“I wrote something special, just for you,” Anthony said, holding out a copy.

“Fuck off, homo,” Graham said, looking to his friends for support, who all laughed on cue.

“You guys will like it too,” Anthony said, waving the article in their faces.

A thin red-headed guy he didn’t recognize swiped it from him. “Have fun,” Anthony said, taking another copy off the dwindling stack. He held it out to Graham again. “Go on,” he said. “I know you can read and write or else you wouldn’t have been able to paint that big scary word on my locker. That’s part of the story, actually. You made the papers!”

Graham snatched the article from him and crumpled it into a ball that he threw at Anthony, hitting him right in the face. Which was irritating more than painful, but it still pissed him off, because the asshole could at least have read a line or two before deciding he didn’t give a shit. Instead he was grinning again. Anthony wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile off his face, so with his free hand, he grabbed a handful of soggy cafeteria french fries off the nearest tray and flung them at Graham. They pattered his face before falling into his lap. Graham looked down in disbelief. Then he stood while gritting his teeth.

“You’re going to be veryverysorry you did that,” he growled.

And it was true, because Graham wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination. Even his boyish baby-fat features managed to look menacing as his face twisted up.

Anthony took a step back and bumped into someone. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the guy with red hair. When he looked forward again, he was barely able to register a blur of movement before something struck him on the cheek hard enough to knock him to the floor.

“Hey!” Anthony heard Omar shout.

He looked up and saw his best friend leap on the back of the redhead, wrapping an arm around his neck and dragging him down. Anthony was distracted from their struggle when a shadow stepped in front of him protectively. Cameron! His boyfriend’s presence made him feel even more fearful than a moment ago, because he didnotwant Cameron to get hurt. Even in his defense.

A surge of adrenaline shot through Anthony. He shifted to the side before launching himself at Graham’s legs, which worked but came with a price, because most of that weight fell on top of him. He could already hear other students chanting, “Fight, fight, fight!” as they closed in around them.

Graham elbowed him in the side as Anthony began kicking, both of them trying to disentangle from each other while inflicting the most possible damage.

“Break it up!” a voice boomed.

The mob of students around them withdrew. A teacher grabbed Anthony’s arm and yanked him to his feet. The school security guard was standing between him and Graham, who slowly got to his feet with a murderous glare.

“He started it!” Omar shouted, jostling his way to Anthony before pointing an accusing finger at Graham. “I saw everything!”