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All of this began when he was in sixth grade. The second week of school. The second month of Operation Desert Storm. He pissed himself in science class. His teacher would not let him go to the bathroom and near the end of the period he could not hold it anymore.
That evening, after spending the afternoon walking in the woods and trying to cry his way through the latest, and deepest, black hole his young life had spiraled into, he saw a girl from his class named Trish standing at the edge of the high school soccer field. To get to the trail which led back to his neighborhood he had to cross below the field and then walk passed the school and down towards his house.
Trish pointed at him, laughed loudly, and announced to the assembled middle and high school soccer players what had happened earlier in the day. The sun burned red behind her. They laughed and chanted “faggot!” at him over and over.
He stared at her, pointing and laughing, and walked below them towards the path. After a childhood filled with fuck ups and failures he knew any chance to ever get his life on track had passed by this morning. Things would never be okay, never be right.
Under the cover of the trees Theresa sat waiting for him. Drew saw her and smiled. For a few minutes they sat in silence. Theresa and Drew looked up and took in each other. She eyed him curiously, stood up, and began walking towards school and towards home. Drew got up, caught up, and never looked back at Trish or any of them again.