Page 92 of Pride High 3: Yellow
“Yes, please!”
Mr. Finnegan began gathering his things, so Anthony hastily did the same. They were quiet when leaving the classroom and walking down the hall to the nearest exit. He felt like he was about to skip school… with a teacher! Not that anyone was around to notice.
“I can already feel myself thawing out,” Mr. Finnegan said, exhaling in relief. “Over there will do nicely.”
A tree bursting with leaves cast a shimmering quilt of sunlight and shadow on a wooden table and two attached benches. They settled down across from each other, Anthony already smiling, because this waswaybetter than being trapped in a classroom that felt like a concrete bunker. He could see someone walking a dog in the distance and could hear the marching band practicing on the field. Although the grin slipped off his face when he realized that, out here, he felt more free to speak the words that had been bouncing around in his head since he’d gotten into trouble.
“I’m really sorry,” Anthony said, looking Mr. Finnegan in the eye to convey his sincerity. “I never would have published that article on my own if I’d know it would get you in trouble.”
“Don’t feel regret on my behalf,” Mr. Finnegan said. “I’m proud of you!”
“You are?”
“Absolutely! When I worked in a newsroom, we used to joke that an award-winning story could only be found beneath ruffled feathers. And I always felt that there was no greater encouragement than attempted suppression. You touched a nerve in a world full of people who have become numb. Most artists strive for years to wake such people from their slumber, but you’ve already managed it at a young age. You show incredible promise, Anthony, and true talent. I already consider you one of my greatest successes.”
That was flattering. But… “All I did was write down what I feel inside.”
“And how long did it take you to come to terms with those feelings? How much fear and doubt did you have to conquer first? I can’t take any credit for that. You made the journey on your own, without any guidance or reassurance. Principal Preckwinkle should reward your behavior instead of attempting to punish you. I’m glad you’ve taken advantage of this time to further your writing. If I’m not mistaken, not all of it has been for school.”
“Busted,” Anthony replied. He genuinely enjoyed writing. He’d only needed to stop thinking of it as work. So all of that was great. “I still hate that I dragged you into this,” he said. “I’m sure there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.” He glanced down at the wedding band that Mr. Finnegan wore. “Your wife must hate me.”
“Not at all. She’s very understanding. I married my dream girl, you know. And I hope you don’t mind, but I shared your article with her.”
“You did?”
Mr. Finnegan nodded. “You can count her among your fans. So don’t worry about me. I’ve gotten more affection than usual for having to ‘bravely’ suffer detention.”
Anthony laughed at the visual image, emotion hot on the heels of his amusement, because there was something else he’d been meaning to say. “I really appreciate how accepting and supportive you’ve been. About the gay thing especially. If I had gone to Principal Preckwinkle first and gotten her reaction before yours, I probably would have given up on adults. Although my parents are okay with it.”
“I’m very glad to hear that,” Mr. Finnegan replied.
Anthony hesitated before asking. “Have you known other gay people before me?”
“Yes,” Mr. Finnegan said. “But talking about that now would only throw fuel on the fire. Someday, once you’ve graduated perhaps, we can meet and talk more openly about my experiences. If you’d like.”
“I’d love that,” Anthony said. “You’re easily the coolest teacher I’ve ever had.”
“You’re already my favorite student,” Mr. Finnegan said before clearing his throat. “But please know that, in the classroom especially, I will show no partiality. That wouldn’t be fair to your peers. Or to you. If you turn in a paper that I feel is lacking, you’ll get the same grade that you would’ve had we never met.”
“You’re a man of integrity,” Anthony said, nodding in approval. “I don’t suppose your goal is to become principal someday?”
“Never,” Mr. Finnegan said with a theatrical shudder. “No, I will always be a newsie at heart. What about you? Do you think writing will factor into your future career?”
“Yes!” Anthony said instantly. “Just don’t ask me how. I spent most of the past few years convinced that I’d be working in a recording studio.”
“Doing what exactly?”
“Having stuck-up opinions about music, of course.”
“Youcouldbecome a critic. Your reviews have certainly resonated with your fellow students, from what I’ve gathered. But I wouldn’t limit yourself to such a narrow field just yet. Not before you’ve had a chance to romp through other pastures. On that note, I’d like to speak with you about your class selection for next year, in particular the creative writing elective.”
Mr. Finnegan paused when a group of students walked by. One of them noticed Anthony and snorted before whispering to his friends, “That’s the gay guy!” This was followed by snickering.
Anthony shrugged it off. “It’s probably the hair,” he explained, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Mr. Finnegan wasn’t amused. “Let me tell you a secret about creative work,” he said. “While it often doesn’t pay much, it does come with one hell of a perk: Anything ugly that life throws at you goes into the larder of inspiration, allowing you to turn it into something beautiful. Much like you did with the article you wrote. Not everyone who was touched by your words is gay. Human emotions and experiences are universal when you strip away the details. Mastering that language isn’t easy, as you are discovering, but think of each bully as a tutor and each injustice as a test. You’ll look back someday and recognize that small-minded people and unkind circumstances never had any power over you. But they can, if you allow it, empower you and your creative endeavors.”
Anthony took a deep breath. Then he nodded his understanding. As much as he tried to shrug off little slights, he was still human, and it did hurt. But in the future, he would recognize that he was getting stronger, and wiser, with each hardship that he survived.
