© ethan woods. website design by: girasoloscuro
“It's for storage. What if there's a horrid storm and I cannot get to the store?” “Good point.” Said Gerard nodding slowly.
But he thought to himself that one old woman did not need that much food, storm or not. But he had to admit that there were a lot of storms, and that the sky was always dark.
“How is it?” Shelley asked.
“Good. Really really good.”
“Does your mother know you come here?”
“No.”
“Why don't you tell her?”
“Because she is paranoid about talking to strangers. She thinks they're all predators.” He explained. Shelley chuckled.
“Anyone can be a 'stranger'. The mailman, the crossing guard, the man at the post office. You'll never meet anyone new by shutting out everyone in fear that they will mug you.”
Gerard had to laugh.
“Is she restrictive over you or something?”
“Not really that much. But she worries a lot. But she can't really control me. I mean, I am seventeen. And anyway, she couldn't . she's at work all the time so I get a lot of free time. But it doesn't relieve the stress.”
“What are you stressed about?” Shelley inquired.
“School. People at school actually. They rag on because I'm gay and because I'm different than them. WE think differently, dress differently, listen to different music. They don't like anyone to be different. So I'm their target.”
“Exactly how much are you different than them?”
“My appearance, first of all. I stick out like a sore thumb. My hobbies are different than theirs. So are my values, beliefs, personality, financial state.” “So what are your hobbies?”
“Writing art and croquet.”
“And what are theirs?”
“Sports.”
“And you don't like sports.”
“Right. Except for croquet.”
“But that isn't a sport. It's a game.”
“So I don't really like sports then.”
“And they don't like art, writing, or croquet?”
Gerard nodded.
“Why should they prosecute you for your differences? They have no right to. You are you, creative, thoughtful. You are a writer and an artist who likes to wear your chair past chin-length and dress in black. You like boys instead of girls. So what? They have no right to interrogate you.” Shelley said.
“But they do anyway.” Said Gerard. Shelley nodded.
“I know they do. And it isn't fair. But just stay true to yourself. You're better than them. The scum who call you names. Fight back, Gerard. Don't let them push you around.”
“I can't.”
“Why can't you?” He shrugged. “Too afraid to, I guess. They throw bricks at me. All I can do is run. I had nothing to fight back with.”
“What about when they're not throwing bricks? What about when it's just words? Can you fight back then?”
“Sometimes I do.”
“Well try then. Take it little by little in small steps.”
