I was busy replacing a hose when I heard the sound of a feint, but familiar, softly spoken voice of Deni.“Mr Stevenson… can we talk?”My stomach ...lenched and my mind raced through a million scenarios of how to respond. Somehow saying “Hi Deni, how are you today” or “Sure, what’s up?” seemed so inappropriate. The best I could manage was to stumble out a pathetic and hesitant “hey”.I looked out from around the hood to see Deni’s petite little figure silhouetted against the sunlight in the garage. When I was in Seventh grade, I got caught fooling around with a friend of mine. He got a blowjob and a move out of that hell hole out of the deal. I got called every homophobic slur in the book for the rest of High School. Jay was the ring-leader of the group of jocks that, more or less, ran things. I had one saving grace: his brother Jeremy and I played D&D together. Fantasy was one of my few respites from the constant abuse I endured. Jeremy was all of the things Jay was not. Jeremy was a. More

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