Apparently, our principal, Mr. Lafferty, had the custodian or someone paint over that whole row of lockers by the end of first period. I guess they figured they couldn’t just paint his black, so they did them all. The entire hallway smelled of fresh paint—you couldn’t miss it. Glenn and the other kids with lockers in that row couldn’t get into their lockers until just after third period. The way everyone was talking about it, you’d think nothing else had happened in the world over the summer. I’d known it was going to be rough going that first day, but I had no idea what it was going to be like. I couldn’t help but notice some kids would stop talking when I got close enough to hear what they were saying, or for them to notice me. They’d smile at me guiltily and say hello, and then would talk really loudly about something else—a movie, some TV show, football, class, anything but what everyone else was talking about—there’s a gay kid going to Southern Heights now!
