Chapter 13:
Friday dawned gray and cold, as if the sky itself had decided to mourn.
Elias dragged himself to school, exhaustion and fear swirling like a fog around him. He kept expecting his father's voice behind him in the hallways, or Pastor Lyle's sermon booming from the loudspeakers.
Instead, he found Marley, Camila, Theo, and Jonah waiting by his locker.
Marley launched forward and hugged him so hard he almost dropped his books. "We heard what happened."
Elias froze. "How?"
"People talk," Theo said quietly. "Church people. Parents. They don't think we hear, but we do."
Camila's eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "Elias, you don't deserve this."
"I know." His voice cracked. "But it's still happening."
Marley held his face between her hands. "Listen to me. You're not dirty. You're not wrong. You're just… you."
Jonah spoke up, voice soft. "And if they don't understand you, that's on them."
The school day crawled. In AP English, Mrs. Hargrove announced that next week they'd begin sharing excerpts from their personal essays.
Elias felt panic clutch at his ribs.
Mrs. Hargrove met his eyes. "You can opt out, Elias, if it's too much."
But a quiet part of him whispered that hiding hadn't saved him so far.
Rehearsal was awkward at first.
Elias and Rowan hadn't spoken all day.
Mr. Donovan Kessler barked orders, his voice echoing off the stage: "Places! Balcony scene, let's go."
Rowan moved into place, his expression unreadable.
Elias took a shaky breath. "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?"
Rowan descended the stairs, speaking softly: "Deny thy father and refuse thy name."
And this time, Elias didn't look away.
After rehearsal, Mr. Kessler waved them over.
"Look," he said, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "If you boys want to keep doing this show, you've got to trust each other. On stage and off. That balcony scene only works if there's truth underneath it."
Rowan glanced at Elias, voice low. "There is truth."
Mr. Kessler softened. "Then stop hiding from it."
He left them alone.
Rowan shoved his hands in his pockets. "Are you okay?"
"No," Elias admitted. "But I'm tired of pretending."
Rowan smiled faintly. "That's a good start."
Elias stared at his shoes. "My dad barely looks at me. My mom just keeps crying. I don't even know if I belong at church anymore."
Rowan touched his arm. "Your worth isn't measured by who sits beside you in a pew."
Elias swallowed hard. "I still love God."
"I know," Rowan said. "And I think God still loves you."
That night, Elias sat at his desk with his journal open.
He wrote:
"I'm terrified of losing my family. But I'm more terrified of losing myself."
"And maybe… maybe that means I'm finally brave."