This section introduces the last of Inartè's friends at Antora, Mike. He's a... well let's just say he's a little special. (Sorry for the shortness! Don't worry, next section's pretty long)
Chapter 4, Part I
Mike was in his drama class and – believe it or not – the only other gay person that went to the school. Statistically speaking, Inartè thought, every tenth person he saw in the hallways should’ve been a potential fairy, but statistics in real life only applied from twelve to one pm every other day when he had math class.
When he first met the boy, Mike had walked up to him after class, glanced at him up and down from his beaten up sneakers to his overlarge hoodie and said, rather calmly, “You’re gay.”
“What,” he had said back.
“You’re gay,” Mike said again, his face completely blank and emotionless like it was
totally okay to say that to somebody, true or not.
“...No, I’m not.” He made his best ‘straight’ face. Then he remembered that he had the wrong reaction of a heterosexual person being called gay. “I mean. Eww, oh man, that’s sick, what’s wrong with you of course I’m straight. Tits. It’s all about tits for me. And. Uh. God, what else do girls have? Vaginas. There we go. I love vaginas.”
“It’s okay,” Mike began again, and oh god, does the boy even
have facial expressions? “I know. I have a gaydar and its never been wrong before.”
“The ********,” Inartè began as well, “is a gaydar?”
“Look at me and you’ll know.”
Of course, the first thing that Inartè wanted to do was tell the kid that he was stoned off his a** and maybe he should find a place to lie down, but then he looked. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a face that was dark as well. Mike looked normal with normal clothes and a normal voice, but then something clicked and he
knew.
“Oh my god,” he breathed. “You’re gay too.”
“Bi.” There might have been a flicker of a smile. Later on, Inartè would learn that Mike’s smile was the eighth wonder of the world. “Good try though.”
“But that. That.” He frowned and had a strange look on his face. “The hell. That’s not. So you just know this s**t? Like, you look at a person and you
know?”
“Only if they know,” the creepy radar boy explained. “If they don’t know then I don’t know. I think it’s fair. You though. You broadcast those waves like a radio station. Might want to tone it down.”
“Tone what down?” he snapped, but checked himself over just in case. Nothing he wore was brighter than a rainy day and yeah, he had earrings, but there were loads of guys at school who did as well. “I don’t. I’m not. I’m not an x-ray machine. I don’t have waves.”
Mike shrugged and picked at his ears. “I’m simply warning you. I don’t think anyone else in this school can tell like me, but just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” he demanded. Potential people to prepare for? And hey, look at that. Alliteration.
“Oh right. You’re new. Five years ago, December sixteenth. Look it up.”
Mike didn’t say anymore on that. Even now, months later when they were pretty much
friends, the guy still wouldn't tell him who else in the blasted school can apparently pick up these mysterious ‘gay’ waves or even what the waves are. Inartè tried to hone his gaydar (seriously,
what the hell was it?), but after the initial encounter with Mike, it never worked again.
Next section on the fourth page.