Sometimes they come back

I dreamt last night about my best friend in High School (and long time object of my crush) M.C.. This got me to thinking this morning about those people I knew way back in High School. Many of them I genuinely have no interest in, but some people I really have a desire to know what became of them. The one in particular that I've been so curious about for all these years is S.O.

S.O. was the gay one. He carried his books like a girl, had a way of gliding, rather than walking, down the hall. He stuck out, and in a high school known for nothing besides it's location (middle of a corn field in the middle of no where in Virginia) this stuck out. I shared gym class with him one year, and M.M. (object of my crush. Many fellas were). I distinctly remember one day in the locker room, I was sitting on the bench, with the back of my head perfectly level with, and precariously close to, M.M. tighty'whitied crotch. One turn and he was mine, even if just for a second. From here I could smell him... cough, sorry.. As I was saying... S.O.'s locker was across the room from mine, across the room from everyone, I know he thought no one would remember he was back there. They spit on his locker. On a regular basis guys in the class would spit on his padlock so he'd be forced to touch it to get in to his belongings. I never responded, I will admit, but I also never took up for this guy. When you're already the youngest in your class, trying to get a good look at the star wrestler's package, and a raging punk rocker, it's self-preservation to keep quiet on these things. I will even go as far as to say that I appreciated S.O. for taking the heat off of me. They would never find out about me if they saw HIM as the picture of gay.

I actually pulled out the old yearbook this morning to look up his picture. I happened upon S.O.'s picture as well. hehe (drum roll...) Anyway, I am appalled by what I see. This kid is sitting in his high senior portrait and all I see in his face is terror. (A mother somewhere has that picture on her mantle.) He was nothing but tormented throughout those four years by shit heads who had no idea the impact of their actions, and by wimps who sat back and let them get away with it. Self-preservation. By preserving myself I did a few things which I regret: I allowed this poor guy to suffer outwardly what I was suffering within myself; I allowed these asshole bullies to maintain their status as big shots; and I showed M.M. what kind of guy I really was. M.M. expressed some degree of interest on more than a few occasions. I reciprocated by hiding; silently supporting the "other" side.