altogether.
He was allowed to attend public school with the other kids, and the difference was immediate. If someone had asked me if there was a crown prince of Foster, I would have admitted that Riley was the clear choice. He was an adorable kid with manners and a grace that only came from a good family, and he was a town favorite. He excelled in sports and was soon quarterback of the Foster High Cowboys, a role no one was surprised to see.
What was surprising, though, was his attendance at a meeting of gay and bisexual kids during lunch with Mrs. Axeworthy.
When his mother found out, she came to the school board and made it quite clear she was not pleased with the situation and wanted it corrected immediately. And when she said “corrected,” she meant stopped as soon as possible. She approached me, informing me of her son’s attendance and how upset she was that this kind of thing had happened on school grounds. She said the group was confusing Riley, and that if it was not shut down and the teacher dealt with, we would be talking with her lawyer.
I knew Charlotte even then, and though she was—and is—a bit eccentric, she is a great teacher who means no harm. I calmed Dolores down, and we came to a compromise. We would discipline the teacher privately, the meetings would, of course, stop immediately, and in exchange, she would not press charges or bring suit against the school. I reminded her that any legal action would make the papers and undoubtedly include Riley.
And so with a little work and thirty pieces of metaphorical silver, the problem went away.
“What about her?” Dolores asked. Her tone of voice was the same she would use when asking about a convicted murderer.
“You need to come forward and have Mr. Raymond remove the mark on her record.” I said it in one breath and without pause, because I was pretty sure she was about to throw the tumbler in her hand at me.
“I certainly do not,” she countered.
“But, Dolores, Riley turned out to be gay anyways. Charlotte Axeworthy had nothing to do with that.” I paused a beat to let the words sink in. “Surely you can see that.”
She said nothing as she looked at me like I was an insect. “Is this why you came here?” Her voice was dismissing, and I knew my time was limited. “If it was, you have wasted your time and mine.” Sure enough, her man appeared with my coat in hand. I was impressed with his timing.
“Dolores,” I implored her. “Kelly was gay too. It was why he killed himself. This is important.”
“Riley did not kill himself,” she reminded me.
“No, but don’t you think the people who did kill him might have paused if there was more understanding in this town about what it meant to be gay?”
And there it was, the topic that no one broached with Dolores Mathison, and if you did, you didn’t do it more than once.
Riley had gone to college out of state and ended up bringing home a boy whom he was deeply in love with. I am sure his family was aghast, but if they wanted to be in their son’s life, I am sure they didn’t have much choice. It was common knowledge in town about the two, and to be honest, no one said much about it. They kept to themselves and seemed madly in love, so people respected their choice and let them be.
Until someone purposely rammed Riley with their car, killing him almost instantly in the middle of nowhere. There were quiet rumors all over town about what happened, but there was not much said out loud. The Mathison name bought a ridiculous amount of silence, and they buried their son in private and went on with their lives. It wasn’t mentioned in the paper, but I know from Stephen that the witness accounts at the time said the driver had purposely aimed for Riley and called out a pretty nasty slur about his sexuality.
In other words, the guy swerved to hit the boy and then called him a fag as he drove off.
Dolores and I were sisters of a sort in grief. Both of our boys had been lost
He was allowed to attend public school with the other kids, and the difference was immediate. If someone had asked me if there was a crown prince of Foster, I would have admitted that Riley was the clear choice. He was an adorable kid with manners and a grace that only came from a good family, and he was a town favorite. He excelled in sports and was soon quarterback of the Foster High Cowboys, a role no one was surprised to see.
What was surprising, though, was his attendance at a meeting of gay and bisexual kids during lunch with Mrs. Axeworthy.
When his mother found out, she came to the school board and made it quite clear she was not pleased with the situation and wanted it corrected immediately. And when she said “corrected,” she meant stopped as soon as possible. She approached me, informing me of her son’s attendance and how upset she was that this kind of thing had happened on school grounds. She said the group was confusing Riley, and that if it was not shut down and the teacher dealt with, we would be talking with her lawyer.
I knew Charlotte even then, and though she was—and is—a bit eccentric, she is a great teacher who means no harm. I calmed Dolores down, and we came to a compromise. We would discipline the teacher privately, the meetings would, of course, stop immediately, and in exchange, she would not press charges or bring suit against the school. I reminded her that any legal action would make the papers and undoubtedly include Riley.
And so with a little work and thirty pieces of metaphorical silver, the problem went away.
“What about her?” Dolores asked. Her tone of voice was the same she would use when asking about a convicted murderer.
“You need to come forward and have Mr. Raymond remove the mark on her record.” I said it in one breath and without pause, because I was pretty sure she was about to throw the tumbler in her hand at me.
“I certainly do not,” she countered.
“But, Dolores, Riley turned out to be gay anyways. Charlotte Axeworthy had nothing to do with that.” I paused a beat to let the words sink in. “Surely you can see that.”
She said nothing as she looked at me like I was an insect. “Is this why you came here?” Her voice was dismissing, and I knew my time was limited. “If it was, you have wasted your time and mine.” Sure enough, her man appeared with my coat in hand. I was impressed with his timing.
“Dolores,” I implored her. “Kelly was gay too. It was why he killed himself. This is important.”
“Riley did not kill himself,” she reminded me.
“No, but don’t you think the people who did kill him might have paused if there was more understanding in this town about what it meant to be gay?”
And there it was, the topic that no one broached with Dolores Mathison, and if you did, you didn’t do it more than once.
Riley had gone to college out of state and ended up bringing home a boy whom he was deeply in love with. I am sure his family was aghast, but if they wanted to be in their son’s life, I am sure they didn’t have much choice. It was common knowledge in town about the two, and to be honest, no one said much about it. They kept to themselves and seemed madly in love, so people respected their choice and let them be.
Until someone purposely rammed Riley with their car, killing him almost instantly in the middle of nowhere. There were quiet rumors all over town about what happened, but there was not much said out loud. The Mathison name bought a ridiculous amount of silence, and they buried their son in private and went on with their lives. It wasn’t mentioned in the paper, but I know from Stephen that the witness accounts at the time said the driver had purposely aimed for Riley and called out a pretty nasty slur about his sexuality.
In other words, the guy swerved to hit the boy and then called him a fag as he drove off.
Dolores and I were sisters of a sort in grief. Both of our boys had been lost
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