This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. These stories have as their main character a sexually active gay teenager. If this is offensive to you, or if it is illegal in your area, or if you are under age, please leave now.
There is a religious element in these stories. If you don't like that, maybe now is a good time to leave.
Constructive criticism is welcome on my e-mail at perti@live.com.
Dermot II Chapter 6, One Mystery Less
Mr. Carlyle was pleased when Dermot asked to take the test on the first section of the course in American History later that Monday. He had been supportive, but still retained enough skepticism to withhold judgement until Dermot actually performed. Dermot's proposal for a term paper topic also pleased him, as it showed both an understanding of the material read, and a social conscience which was not expected from someone with Dermot's background. They agreed on the topic, and that Dermot would take his first history test during his first study hall. Mr. Carlyle would provide a copy of the test to Coach Duvall before ten o'clock. Dermot was not only making up for lost time early in the semester, of course, but also participating in the current material before the class. They had completed the Korean War and elected General Eisenhower to the presidency. Now they were deep into the Cold War. The same student who had complained about American imperialism last week was strident in his condemnation of American foreign policy during the 1950s, but other students were equally passionate in defense of that policy. Dermot was confident enough by this time that he actively participated in class discussions about John Foster Dulles, Senator McCarthy, de-Stalinization, and the Hungarian uprising of 1956. He found the classes stimulating, and always came prepared, usually talking over the current assignment with Lando before class.
When Dermot and Lando entered their classroom for their second period Religion class, Mr. O'Brien called Dermot to his desk. He silently handed Dermot his graded exam from last Friday. To Dermot's great relief and satisfaction, he received a grade of A. Mr. O'Brien commented, "Frankly, I'm surprised, Mr. Barry. I did not expect you to do so well. Congratulations. You'll take the second exam this coming Friday. I did speak with Coach Duvall, so that should not be a problem."
"Thank you, Mr. O'Brien," Dermot responded.
On the way back to their seats, Lando patted Dermot on the back, but Dermot was not as pleased as he should have been. "Hey, you got an A. Why aren't you happy?"
"That part about not expecting me to do well, and about checking with Coach Duvall. Mr. O'Brien thinks I cheated."
"Oh, come on. You're over reacting."
"I don't think so. But I'll take the A, anyway."
The class was making its way through the events leading up to what Mel Gibson's movie called, in harmony with age-old usage, 'the Passion of the Christ.' Today, they were discussing the preparations for the Last Supper, and how this was an example of the traditional Jewish Seder. They covered references to the Seder in the book of Exodus, and discussed how this fit the descriptions in the Gospels. Mr. O'Brien seemed knowledgeable, but his manner left much to be desired when compared to someone like Mr. Carlyle or Mrs. Martinez.
As Dermot approached his first study hall, Lando went on to his geometry class. By this time, Dermot insisted that he no longer needed to be guided to his various classrooms. He was feeling the need to be a little more independent. Therefore, he was alone when he approached Coach Duvall's station at the front of the room.
"Hey, Dermot, I've got something to keep you busy today," Coach teased him. "You're doing a lot of make-ups. Religion last Friday, History today."
"Yeah. I'll be doing that all the rest of the term, I guess," Dermot explained. "I have months and months of missed work to cover."
"Mr. O'Brien asked me about you this morning," Coach Duvall mentioned. "I gather you did a bang up job on that exam last Friday."
"Got my A," Dermot grinned.
"Way to go! Now do the same with this one," Coach said, as he handed Dermot his American History test.
Dermot retreated to a desk, and got busy. Again, he felt prepared, and answered all the questions in what he thought was a satisfactory manner. He liked showing off his mastery of the material, so he added extra stuff not absolutely necessary to answer the questions. As he re-read his work after completing his answer to the last question, the period came to an end. He turned the exam over to Coach Duvall.
"Another A?" Coach asked.
"You know it!" Dermot replied confidently.
"Go get 'em, tiger!" the teacher encouraged him, making Dermot feel good about his work, and confident that Coach Duvall would back him up if Mr. O'Brien questioned his work on a future exam.
Bob Lynch was evidently miffed that Dermot had not responded to his invitation to get together over the weekend, as, when he came into the Current Events classroom, instead of sitting next to Dermot, as he had most of last week, he sat on the opposite side of the room, next to a boy called Nate Greenwell. One of the topics for discussion that day was a report of a suicide bombing in Jerusalem. Evidently, the class had discussed such things previously, as everyone seemed to understand what was involved. Mrs. Martinez kept the class moving along uneventfully until Bob decided once again to exhibit his cynical outlook.
"Well, if you look at it from the point of view of the Islamists, this bombing was entirely justified. The West is the enemy, and Israel is just a patsy for the West. What do you expect? And how is that different from what we are told, about Christian martyrs automatically going to heaven?"
That brought forth a storm of protests, which Dermot strongly suspected was Bob's purpose. He doubted that Bob really cared about the Islamist point of view. This was reinforced a little later when Bob stated for the class, what he had voiced to Dermot last Friday. "I don't know what you guys mean when you say it's wrong to have people commit suicide for a cause. Wrong according to whom? Something is only wrong if your peer group thinks it is." This was followed by still more passionate discussion. Bob had evidently voiced that opinion before. One thing for sure, that class was never dull.
When Dermot and Lando emerged from the cafeteria line a little later, they saw Bob Lynch sitting with Nate Greenwell. Dermot was tempted to suggest finding another table, but Lando headed straight for the other two boys, so Dermot tagged along, especially as Lando was carrying both trays of food. Not much independence there. Dermot was definitely looking forward to losing the crutch and casts.
Dermot had not paid much attention to Nate previously. He was a nice enough looking boy, though small, about five foot five, but with a solid build, and nice sandy colored hair and green eyes. Nate had made almost no contribution to the discussions in the Current Events class, speaking mainly when called on by Mrs. Martinez, and then usually agreeing with what someone else had said. Today, he had confined his participation to agreeing with Bob. After initial greetings, Nate seemed to fade into the background, even of this small group.
Dermot could not resist questioning Bob about his stated belief that right and wrong were whatever some group decided.
"Sure," Bob said. "History proves my point. For example, slavery was right until enough people decided it was wrong. Even St. Paul approves of slavery, not to mention the Old Testament. And the Inquisition thought it was right to kill people who disagreed with Church teachings. There is no such thing as an objective right and wrong."
Lando, of course, objected strongly, arguing that an objective right and wrong existed, even when imperfect humans got confused about what that might be. "Since God created everything, then what is right is what is in keeping with the basic principles He instilled in the universe at creation."
"That's assuming there is a god, and that any god who exists takes any interest in what we humans do," Bob replied.
"Yes, I do make those assumptions," Lando returned, "since that seems to explain the world in which I live better than any alternative."
"Which is purely your subjective evaluation," Bob replied. "To someone else, those assumptions seem absurd."
Dermot listened to this exchange with mixed feelings. Bob was saying things he had thought for some time, but when Bob said them, somehow they seemed offensive. What Lando said was what Dermot had rejected, but Lando made them seem the only reasonable choice. Dermot felt conflicted. He welcomed Lando's reminder that they had decided to talk to Mrs. Mattingly before class, and needed to leave the lunch room before the bell rang.
Over the weekend, Dermot and Lando had decided that they needed to confront Mrs. Mattingly about her continuously putting off any serious discussion with Dermot about what he would need to do to make up for the missed portion of his American Literature class, and possibly gain credit by examination for the first semester of the sophomore English sequence. Consequently, they left the lunch room several minutes before the bell rang, and headed up to the second floor and Mrs. Mattingly's room. They found her sitting at her desk, staring off into space, the classroom otherwise empty for a few moments at least. They approached the desk.
"Mrs. Mattingly, excuse me for interrupting, but we really need to discuss my situation in your class," Dermot stated.
"Oh, Dermot, you startled me. Can we talk about this some other time?"
"No, ma'am. Excuse me, but it's been a week now, and I really need to know where I stand," Dermot insisted.
"A week? Has it been that long?" the teacher asked.
"Yes, ma'am. And there is a lot I need to make up. Besides, as I believe Dr. Schlegel told you, I would like to discuss receiving credit for the first half of the course by examination. I know we still have nearly two months of school, but that's a lot to make up, and I need to get started."
"I apologize, Dermot. I guess I have been distracted of late. Did I give you a class syllabus?"
"Yes, ma'am. And if it's okay with you, I'd like to take the exam over the first block of materials on Wednesday. I have a study hall next period, if that would be convenient," Dermot pursued the topic."
"Yes, yes, that will be fine," the teacher replied.
"I don't want to seem pushy or anything," Dermot said, "but hadn't you better write that down or something? As you said, you seem to have been distracted lately."
Mrs. Mattingly looked at Dermot. It was as though she saw him for the first time. "Yes," she conceded, "yes, I have. Thank you." She wrote on next Wednesday's slot on her pocket calendar: 'Make-up exam over first section - Dermot.'
"Another thing," Dermot continued, "I understand we are required to write a term paper on some subject related to the works we have read. I would like to do a paper on the teen angst in Romeo and Juliet and in Catcher in the Rye. Kind of a comparison, you know."
"That sounds very acceptable, Dermot. But also very ambitious. I hope you are not biting off more than you can chew," the teacher warned the boy.
"I think I can handle it, but if I find out differently, I'll come back and talk to you about it," Dermot said. "Now, about the first semester ...."
"I really need to think about that, Dermot. Let's see how well you do on that first test, and then we'll talk about credit by examination."
Lando took up the conversational ball. "Mrs. Mattingly, I have enjoyed your classes, both last semester and this," he began, "but you do seem to have your mind elsewhere lately. Don't misunderstand. The classes are still great. But, well, is something bothering you?"
Again the teacher studied her student carefully. "Thank you for your concern, Lando. Yes, something is bothering me, but I'm afraid it's a personal matter. I'm sorry if this has interfered with my teaching."
"No, the classes are still great. But you seem to be somewhere else before and after the class period," Lando insisted.
Other students were coming into the classroom by this time, and one came up to the desk to ask when the next exam would be, preventing any further personal questions. By the time the student was satisfied, it was time to begin class. Dermot and Lando were both eager to see how today's class discussion would go. This was the first day of their study of Tennessee Williams' play, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. As always, Mrs. Mattingly was animated when she introduced the material, relating something about the author and the themes in the play. To the dismay of the two boys, however, she did not mention that Williams was gay, nor did she touch on the homosexual element in the relationship between Brick and Skipper. After more than half the class had elapsed, Dermot decided to force the issue.
After waving his hand and receiving recognition, he began. "I think it's impossible to get a grip on Brick without considering the possibility that he and Skipper had a gay relationship. That's why he's so broken up that he tries to blot out everything with drinking all the time."
"Eeeww," one of the girls said, "that's yucky."
"What's yucky?" Dermot demanded. "A guy is attracted to another guy. It happens. Williams was himself gay, so it's no surprise to find something like this in his work."
"Is that true, Mrs. Mattingly?" another student asked. "Was Tennessee Williams a fag?"
Before Mrs. Mattingly could respond, Lando jumped on the speaker. "'Fag' is discriminatory language, Brian! It could even be called hate language. You know we have a strong policy about that here at Baltimore."
"I believe in calling a spade a spade," the boy addressed as Brian stated.
"Then call us gay, or, if you don't like that, call us homosexuals," Lando insisted, speaking passionately now.
"Us! Are you saying you're one of those, Lando?" another boy demanded.
"Yes! I am gay! I've never tried to hide it, so if you didn't know up til now, Todd, that should tell you something. You can't make sweeping judgements about people based on stereotypes." Lando was angry, and was standing up as he spoke, so everyone could hear him, and see who he was.
"I think that's pretty degenerate," Brian stated. "When you 'gay' types start taking over, our society is in pretty bad shape." He used his fingers to make quotation marks around the word 'gay'.
"You're entitled to your opinion, Brian. But please note this: I'm not trying to take over anything. I just want a fair hearing, without all the name calling and stereotyping. Isn't that what our tolerance policy is all about?" Lando insisted.
Dermot could not resist. He had to get further involved in this exchange. "In case you guys have not noticed, a major theme of this play we're supposed to be discussing is facing the truth. Avoiding what Brick keeps calling mendacity. The truth is, some people are just born gay. That's the way things are, whether you like it or not. Nobody chooses to be gay. Being gay is no more degenerate than being left-handed, or having red hair."
As Dermot very definitely had red hair, that brought a few chuckles, but not from everyone.
"Are you another one of them?" Brian sneered.
"I'm not a 'them!' I'm not some kind of alien. I'm just a kid like the rest of you, trying to cope with growing up in a world I don't understand!" Dermot yelled.
"Stop it! Stop it, all of you! This has gotten completely out of hand!" Mrs. Mattingly shouted. No one seemed to have noticed that she had been powerfully affected by the discussion, although she had taken no part since the topic of homosexuality was introduced. Now attention was focused back on the teacher. She looked frantic, to the considerable surprise of her students. They had never seen her like that. "That's all for today. Class dismissed!" she announced, even though it was at least ten minutes before the bell would sound announcing the end of the period.
Subdued, the students began to file out of the room, speaking quietly among themselves, wondering about the teacher's reaction to the exchanges between Lando and Dermot, on one side, and Brian and Todd, on the other. Mrs. Mattingly looked up from her desk. "Lando, Dermot, wait behind. I want to speak with you."
Several students indicated their support for the two boys. "Good show," one guy said to Lando. A girl told Dermot, "you were very brave today." On the other hand, Brian and a few of his friends gave the boys dirty looks as they left the room.
When everyone else had left, Mrs. Mattingly drew a deep breath, as though preparing for an ordeal. Dermot feared they had gone too far, diverting the class from the direction the teacher intended to take it, and were in trouble. He was surprised at what came out of her mouth.
"You boys are incredibly brave. You will probably have trouble from some of the other students over this. I'm assuming you were telling the truth when you said you were gay."
"Yes, ma'am," Lando replied. "I've known I was gay for about two years now, and Dermot is my boyfriend."
Dermot nodded firm agreement with that.
"I'm sorry if I kind of derailed the class," Dermot apologized. "But I really felt that ignoring the gay theme made Brick's character more of a mystery than it need be."
"Dermot, you did exactly the right thing," Mrs. Mattingly said forcefully. "I am ashamed to admit that I intended to by-pass the gay theme because of personal issues. As you pointed out, the main theme of the play is the necessity of facing the truth, of avoiding mendacity, and I was not being true to the play or to my profession. You boys asked me before class whether there were something bothering me. There is. My son, Michael, came to us -- to his father and me -- last weekend, and told us he thinks he might be gay. I never considered myself homophobic before, but when it's your own child ...."
The teacher paused, catching her breath, exhibiting strong emotion. Recovering herself, she continued, "I have been trying to come to grips with this for the past week or more. I guess that has caused me to pay too little attention to such matters as your make-ups, Dermot."
"I understand, Mrs. Mattingly. I did not mean to cause you distress."
"Is there anything we can do?" Lando asked. "I don't mean to intrude or anything, but, well, we've kind of been there, if you know what I mean."
"You have already helped. Both of you. What you said in class today, about being gay not being as choice, and about facing the truth that's a great help to me. I've heard it before, of course, but I needed to hear it at this time. But, maybe you can help my son. Michael is only a freshman. I don't know how he's coping, especially as I have been no help since he came out to us, I'm afraid. I'm ashamed to admit I was more concerned with my own feelings and doubts than with him. Would you be willing to talk to him, and maybe give him some advice. I mean, you seem to have come to grips with the scene here at school."
Lando and Dermot looked at each other in amazement. "Thanks, Mrs. Mattingly. I don't know about that. Most days, I feel completely swamped by the scene here at school," Lando admitted. "But, sure, we'll be glad to talk to Mike, and be any help we can."
"In that case, please meet me in the parking lot after school," Mrs. Mattingly said, as students began to enter the classroom for the last period of the day.
As Lando and Dermot exited the classroom, another student in that class, who had obviously been waiting for them, approached. "Hey, Lando, I just want you to know that I've got your back if you ever need it."
"Thanks, Jason. So far, so good. But I appreciate it," Lando said. The two socked fists. Then the boy called Jason disappeared down the corridor.
"Who's that?" Dermot asked.
"Sorry. I should have introduced you. Jason is my teammate on the soccer team. He's always been a great guy, so I'm glad he's onboard with this."
"Some things work out, others don't, I guess. At least, now we know why Mrs. Mattingly was so distracted. One mystery solved, and it had nothing to do with me joining the class late, like I thought," Dermot said, relief evident in his voice.
"That seems to be the way things work. We solved one problem, but after coming out like that, I may have created a hundred more. I've been out to my friends, but I never made a public announcement like that before. I'm sorry if this makes things harder for you," Lando apologized.
"Hey, boyfriend, you were great in there. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, but that won't make things any easier. Easy doesn't seem to be the way things go for us fags," Lando said, purposely using Brian's word.
"Tell me about it," Dermot commented, as they parted company at the door of his last period study hall.
When he entered, Coach Rockwood signaled for him to come up to the desk. "Wait here a minute, Dermot," he said.
After a minute or two, the bell rang, and things settled down. Then Coach turned his attention back to Dermot. "I hear you and Lando had quite an interesting class last period."
"Geesh! Is it all over the school already?"
Coach pointed to two students near the rear of the class, who were keeping an eye on them. Dermot recognized them as having been in the same class as Lando and himself.
"So, tell me," Coach Rockwood said, "is this true about you and Lando being boyfriends?"
"Yes, it's true," Dermot said forcefully, then backed off a bit. "This won't hurt Lando on the team, will it? I know he loves soccer."
"Lando's a great player. He did a bang-up job last fall. I'd hate to lose him. I'm hoping this won't make any difference, but I need to be prepared in case somebody wants to make a case out of it. That's why I asked. School policy is definite that sexual orientation is not an issue unless it affects the normal activities of the team. In other words, we don't want someone using the team as an avenue for hooking up, or for harassing other players. And the harassing goes both ways. No coming on to guys who don't want it, and no picking on guys because of their orientation. I need to be ready if something happens."
"Sounds fair, Coach."
"Thanks, Dermot. Now you can get on with your work."
When the period ended, Dermot met Lando at the lockers, then walked out to the parking area, where they looked for Mrs. Mattingly. After a couple of minutes, they noticed her walking in their direction, accompanied by a clearly reluctant boy who must be her son, Michael.