Valiente

“Excuse me everybody, excuse me I have something to say. Please, can I have your attention,” yelled Jimmy as he waved for the people to quiet down. “My name is Jimmy Davis, and I was a student here at this school last year… before… before… I… I supposedly died.”
The fans in the gymnasium slowly began to quiet down and listen to the boy with the microphone. They were puzzled, curious and whispered to one another.
“Oh, I see some confused faces. Well, let me explain. You see last year, my dad faked my death because he was ashamed of me because I am gay,” announced Jimmy as he rubbed his neck nervously. His voice was tentative and vulnerable, and the gymnasium that was roaring moments before, was stunned to an eerie silence. “But, instead of really dying like my dad wanted people to believe, he kidnapped me and locked me away in a gay conversion camp in Kentucky… that belonged to the Ku Klux Klan.… this conversion camp was to cure me and make me not be gay… and… and… every single day I was there, I wished… wished… that my dad had just killed me instead.”
Carlos and Chente began to make their way down the bleachers and onto the gym floor, but Jimmy motioned for them to stop. He wiped the corners of his eyes and walked away from them, in the opposite direction, and continued talking into the microphone.
“While I was at this conversion camp from hell, all of you continued living your perfect little lives here in Avalon. Y’all kept coming to games like this one, laughing… and cheering… and having a good time, while I… I… was being tortured and beaten. So… so… many other kids like me were tortured and… and… suffered at this conversion camp too because they were gay.” Jimmy’s voice cracked. He paused and took a deep breath. He knew that he was beginning to stutter his words. He looked at all the people in the bleachers as he rubbed his forehead. “All of this, just because I was gay.”
He shook his head and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “I… I… want to show you what they did to me. These are the scars they left me.”
The audience gasped when they saw Jimmy’s emaciated body full of bruises and lacerations. A couple of women seated in the front row covered their eyes and quickly walked out of the gym in horror.
“I just want to say that what my dad did to me was wrong. He stole my youth, my freedom,” continued Jimmy as he quietly sobbed into the microphone. “Everybody deserves to love… to love… who they want to love. Haven, I am so glad... so glad… that this school has formed a Gay and Straight Student Alliance. That is excellent!”
Haven was in complete shock but managed to smile and nod at Jimmy.
“But, what you don’t know is that the very man who helped you begin this organization is a lying bigot,” yelled Jimmy as he pointed to Aaron. The uncertainty in Jimmy’s voice had been replaced by anger. “He… he… says that he supports diversity but right now your Coach Doss, your beloved sponsor, has hired a lawyer to get his racist father out of prison. His racist lawyer is sitting right over there in the blue blazer.”
The people turned and stared at Grayson Calloway as Chente and Carlos walked onto the basketball court.
“Jimmy, I know that you are hurt and angry, but this is hardly helpful,” whispered Chente. “Please, give me the microphone.”
“No!” yelled Jimmy. “The people need to know… they need to know… that Coach Doss is helping a member of the Ku Klux Klan get out of prison. They need to know that his father… like my father… was part of the hate group that killed people at your high school graduation last year.”
Carlos wrestled the microphone out of Jimmy’s hand as the audience heaved in horror. Carlos apologized to the fans and quietly handed the microphone back to Haven.
“Come on let’s go,” said Carlos. “We need to get you home.”
“I don’t have a home!” screamed Jimmy as he pushed Carlos away and walked over to Aaron. “I don’t have anything thanks to your father’s racist country club! I hate you, Aaron Doss!”
Carlos and Chente gently pushed Jimmy out of the gymnasium as Coach Doss scurried into the coach’s office and shut the door. Slowly, the two teams entered their locker rooms as the fans whispered to each other.
Sitting in the far corner of the bleachers sporting a sly grin was the cemetery groundskeeper, Mr. Farris. He twitched his neck to the left and then to the right as he stood up and walked out of the gym, with a hazy shadow following him.