EUTR – Summer Solitude

Welcome to the very first short story from my upcoming LGBT+ short story/advice collection, Everything Under The Rainbow! You can find out more about it on my Upcoming Releases page – just click here! Summer Solitude covers how important LGBT+ groups can be, specifically those in schools. Holidays can seem like lonely and isolating times for young LGBT+ people who aren’t out to their families, or who are facing difficult situations at home. Read on to find out how Charlie’s LGBT+ group tries to solve that problem in Summer Solitude!

Summer Solitude

Friendly conversation flittered around the corridor. Summer plans and holiday destinations and everything else you’d expect from the last week of high school before summer. I really wanted to join in, you know. More than anything. But, instead, I found myself standing silently by the other students gathered around the door to Room 0010, awaiting the last session of our school’s LGBT+ group before we were all sent home for the holidays.

Miss Linn would arrive soon. Then we’d all file in, still chatting and joking. Introductions, then discussions. Everything ran smoothly, just like an assembly led by the horrifyingly-punctual headteacher Mr Flynn. A few minutes for reflection or meditation, whatever you wanted to call it–that was an addition suggested by one of the PSHE teachers. Then, we’d leave. Still chatting. Still joking. Off to the last lessons of the day, then home.

Home. The one place I didn’t want to be.

“Yeah, we’re going on holiday this year. My dad swore we’re going somewhere nice, but he said that last year.”

“Where’d you go last year?”

“The park down the road. Hey, is that Miss?”

My ears caught onto that last little snatch of conversation. Was she here? Looking up, I only saw the passing crowd of black-blazered kids drifting down the corridor in little friendship clumps. None of them looked at us. Their eyes stayed down, or on each other, their mouths constantly curved into half-smiles which anticipated corny jokes and cornier insults. Was it because they knew it was an LGBT+ group? Or was it just teenagers being teenagers?

It was so hard to tell. Straining my eyes, I glanced further down the corridor. Kids, kids, kids… wait. That long, straight blonde hair. Those chunky, cherry-red glasses. Could it be?

Did… did I want it to be Miss Linn?

There was nothing I enjoyed more than the LGBT+ group’s weekly meetings. Friday lunchtimes were blissful because of them. But this one was different. This one meant that everything was over. The weekly meetings, the warm classroom, the friendly faces… they’d all be gone for six long, excruciating weeks of loneliness. Six weeks trapped at home with parents who didn’t really know who I was. Six weeks to sit, and think, and wish I could be back at school.

Everyone would call me crazy if I told them that. Even among people like me, I still didn’t really belong. I didn’t talk. I didn’t chat. I’d tried, but getting a word in edgeways was more difficult than some exams were. They were a chatty bunch, between ten and fifteen on any given day. I could tell you all of their names, but I don’t think they could tell you mine. I only whispered it during the introductions. Nobody paid attention anyway.

“Hi guys! Everyone looking forward to summer?” Even Miss Linn was full of the holiday spirit, which seemed to have completely bypassed me. “Let’s all go inside and get started! Is the door locked?”

“It always is, miss,” someone replied.

“Just checking!” Cheery as ever, she grabbed a key which dangled from her lanyard and rattled it around in the door. It opened with the usual click.

Not unlike a herd of cattle, we were ushered into the room by the smiling teacher. Before she could say anything, the three Year Sevens of the group surged forwards and threw around some chairs–their version of ‘getting the room set up’. I stood by the door as everyone put their bags down and slouched into plastic seats. I needed to quickly find somewhere to sit before I drew attention to myself. Somewhere between friendship groups, but not too close to anyone… I was putting way too much thought into this.

I always did. Sighing quietly, I navigated around the minefield of chairs and tables, which had been haphazardly shunted pretty much everywhere. The blinds were down, to give us some sort of ‘privacy’ or ‘security’ or something of the sort, despite the obvious posters plastered all over school saying ‘LGBT+ Group – Join Now! – Room 0010 – Friday Lunchtimes!’. They were trying, I guess, but they could have done with putting a bit more thought into it.

“Alright everyone, can we all get sat down now, please?” Miss Linn perched on the teacher’s desk, left untouched by the Year Sevens’ antics, facing us all. We sat in a wobbly circle around her. Everything seemed like it should’ve been normal, but I knew it was different this time. “Are we ready for introductions?”

A general murmur of assent ran around the room. She nodded, looking around expectantly. We all knew what came next. Worry pierced through my throat, sending blood thumping around my neck and head.

Please don’t call on me. Please don’t call on me. Please don’t call on me.

“Nova! Do you have a question for us?” Not me. Relief flooded through my mind. It made sense, of course; Nova was always Miss Linn’s go-to. She taught them English, and, like a lot of English teachers, she had this ability to connect with any student and bring out the best in them. Nova was no exception. Besides, it was the safest option–if Nova decided to change their name, Miss Linn would be the first to know, effectively avoiding any embarrassment on either side.

“Can I do the coffee one?” Their smile was a little crooked, already knowing the teacher’s answer: a firm shaking of the teacher’s head. ‘The coffee one’ referred to ‘What’s your favourite hot drink?’, a well-worn question which was Nova’s go-to. “Okay, okay. Uh–what about favourite fruit?”

For a moment, it looked like Miss Linn was going to shut down that idea as well. But a quick look at the clock, and a longer look at the severely-tired teenager with bags the shade of thunderclouds under their eyes, seemed to change her mind. She nodded.

“Okay, the question is ‘what’s your favourite fruit?’, and we’ll start with–well, we can start with Nova, since they thought of it.”

“Thanks miss,” well-meant sarcasm dripped from Nova’s words, but they cleared their throat and began anyway, the classroom quieting for them, “my name is Nova, I’m in Year Eleven and I use they/them pronouns. My favourite fruit is apples. Passing it that way,” they gestured to their left, thankfully meaning the introductions would take a little while to get to me.

The question snaked around the gathered chairs, everyone bleating out their answers: names, years and pronouns. An old ritual. But I still found anxiety forming knots in my throat as it came closer and closer to being my turn. I’d have to talk. I knew it wasn’t that bad–I’d done it so many times before–but my brain wouldn’t listen to me and logic. Instead, it became emotional, as it always did.

For literally no reason, my eyes began to well up with tears.

“I-I’m Charlie,” I stuttered through the introduction, blinking fiercely to try and subdue the threatening tears which made my vision blurry, “I’m in Year Ten, I use neutral–uh, they/them pronouns, and my favourite fruit…” naturally, my mind blanked, leaving me with a few seconds of awkward silence, “my favourite fruit is pineapple.”

“Pineapple eats you when you eat it,” a voice piped up, quickly shushed by Miss Linn, “what? I saw it on Instagram!”

“You saw someone get eaten by a pineapple?”

“Next person, please!” Miss Linn interrupted the interruptions, waving a hand and demanding silence. The talking stopped. She wasn’t a strict teacher, but she was the sort of teacher you didn’t disobey out of respect. It’d feel like disappointing a friend.

Once the introductions ended, the main part of the group began. I faded into the background as a raging conversation about summer began, as expected. Although she let it run wild for about ten minutes, Miss Linn did take control once an argument about exactly how long the summer holidays were needed to be solved by a look into her planner. With the answer found, she moved smoothly into an authoritative role.

“So, I know everyone’s excited about the holidays, but does anyone have any worries?” The room was quiet for a few moments. You could almost hear the thoughts flying–either people knowing the question wasn’t for them, or people wondering if they were brave enough to speak up. Difficult questions were always met with that sort of complicated reception. “For example, is anyone worried about not having this group over summer? It seems like a lot of you find it beneficial as a place to voice your feelings and frustrations, so losing this space might be difficult.”

“I was thinking about that,” Nova spoke up, not seeming to care that everyone’s eyes suddenly turned to them, “’cause, you know, I haven’t told my nan yet. Having her call me the wrong name all day, every day is gonna be hard, especially without you guys.”

“Awww,” someone cut in, but Miss Linn was ready with her shushing.

“Well,” once she’d finished her shushing, she took on an encouraging, warm tone, “we could look at a few options for over summer, if you guys feel like it would help. An online group, for example–I couldn’t be a part of it, but you could definitely set up something unofficial and use it to support each other.”

“Like a group chat?” Nova leaned back in their chair, letting it touch a gurgling radiator. “I could set that up.”

It sounded perfect. Finally, a solution to the terrible summer I was anticipating–a little digital hideaway, where I could at least read about what everyone else was up to. Actually sending a message might’ve been a little beyond my capabilities.

But as Nova travelled around the classroom, Miss Linn deciding to ignore the blatant flouting of the school’s ‘no mobile phones ever, anywhere, don’t even think about them’ policy, I was passed by. Again, and again, and again.

Sinking into my chair, I fixed my eyes on one particular spot on the blind-covered window, a little square of errant light which had squeezed its way into the room. Maybe I could squeeze through there and disappear outside, if I stared hard enough.

It didn’t happen. Predictably.

Time ticked by, counted by a cheap plastic clock on the wall which I refused to look at. It wouldn’t move if I looked at it. That was just how the clocks seemed to work at school. If you did some work and looked at it, you had a chance of getting lucky and seeing that half an hour had passed. But if you just kept looking, it’d decide to pretend to be a snail. Clocks were weird like that.

“Okay, five minutes of lunch left! Let’s get this room back to how it was when we came in–I’m looking at you three, don’t just disappear!”

The three Year Sevens protested a little, but still dragged the furniture back to its proper positions. I got up as my chair was eyed up for moving by one of them, barely grabbing my bag off it before it was snatched away. They could be strangely enthusiastic about anything. Miss Linn probably helped–if she tried, she could probably make exams fun.

But summer still loomed over me like the darkest cloud I’d ever seen, ready to burst into a downpour of dirty grey rain at any moment. I couldn’t do anything. Nova’s phone was away, firmly tucked into a blazer pocket. Everyone was gravitating towards the door, waiting for Miss Linn to say the room was fine and they could leave. This was my only outlet (which I never used), my only safe space (which I was too scared to participate in) and the only place where I ever felt like I could be myself.

It was crumbling away before my eyes, but I could do nothing to stop it.

Giving up, I trudged towards the door, waiting to leave with everyone else. No one noticed me. No one looked up as I approached. Just like a ghost, I drifted through the group without a word. Sometimes, it was almost like people looked through me. I might’ve been acting a little melodramatic, but I truly felt miserable.

“Hey, Charlie,” shocked to the core, I spun around to see Nova peering down at me, brushing a floppy fringe out of their face, “did I get your Insta? Or do I already follow you?”

“I-um-it’s-” words became mush in my mouth, sticking to my tongue.

“I am following you! Never mind, never mind, I’ll add you now–sorry about that, can’t believe I forgot. See you next year!”

Sweeping past me, they left through the door which Miss Linn was holding open, disappearing before I could form a proper sentence. I gulped down a lump which had made its home in my throat. Almost numb with a mix of surprise and nervousness, I wandered out into the corridor and tried to remember what my next lesson was.

∞

Half-way through my last lesson, my pocket buzzed with an invitation to ‘Gay Group 2, The Online One’. My vision blurred with the happiest tears to ever grace my eyes.

Author’s Note – This is a draft of a to-be-published work. The content may be altered or changed prior to publishing. This is not indicative of the exact content of the published work.

Oskar Leonard