Breakthrough

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Authors: Jack Andraka
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Uncle Ted.”
    â€œHey, Jack.”
    He asked about my science projects, and I told him my idea of using bacteria to detect water pollution. I knew he would like that. I didn’t mention my troubles in school like I had planned. I just couldn’t do it. With the state he was in, I didn’t want him to worry about anything else. At the end of my visit, I gave him a hug. He felt like a skeleton. I could feel his shoulder blades poking through his back.
    â€œJack,” he whispered in my ear, “I’m so proud of you.”
    â€œI’ll see you next week,” I told him.
    That hospital room experience didn’t square with my usual vision of Uncle Ted. Uncle Ted wasn’t that sick. I discarded all the evidence and chalked it up to a bad day.
    After coming out as gay and revealing something so personal, I felt totally exposed to the world. There was nowhere to hide. No more masks to wear. Now everyone knew—everyone except my family, that is. A few days after delivering the now-infamous text message, I came home from school to discover my mom waiting at the front door. In my house, the sight of Mom waiting by the door is never a good sign.
    â€œJack,” she said, “do you want to go on a long walk?” That was my mother’s way of telling me that she needed to talk to me about something important. We both knew the asking part was nothing more than a formality. It wasn’t really a question. It was a command.
    I nodded, put my backpack down, and followed her down one of the wooded paths outside our house. My mom got right to the point—one of my classmates heard I was gay and told her parents. The parents called my mom to ask if the rumor was true.
    Now my mom wanted to hear it from me. “Jack, is it true? Are you gay?” My mom could always tell when I was lying. I felt frozen. I just couldn’t find the strength to meet her eyes. The only safe place to look was down.
    What will she think if she finds out the truth?
    I willed one foot in front of the other.
    Yes, Mom! It’s true! I’m gay!!
    But the words wouldn’t come out.
    â€œJack, I am ready to walk all night. I want you to answer me,” she said.
    I knew she wasn’t bluffing. My mom didn’t bluff. She was stubborn to the core.
    I felt defeated. Rock bottom. I had become a joke to my classmates. I didn’t really have any friends. I felt as though I did not have much left to lose.
    So I told her.
    â€œYes,” I whispered.
    â€œOh,” she said, without a hint of shock or disappointment. “Is that what has been bothering you?”
    I was looking at the ground. Leaves and rocks. Rocks and leaves.
    â€œJack, we don’t care about that,” she said. “It’s part of who you are. I love you.”
    And that was that. It was no big deal. I was my mother’s son. All she cared about was that I was happy.
    After hearing it, I realized that I wasn’t surprised by Mom’s reaction. I had spent so much time telling myself that it didn’t matter what my mom thought that I had somehow convinced myself I didn’t care whether my mom accepted that I was gay. I was so wrong. Her acceptance mattered to me. Part of me wished I had told her earlier. Maybe she could have helped.
    However, I wasn’t finished. I still needed to tell my dad. After returning home, I retreated directly to my room. I didn’t want to be downstairs when my dad came home. I didn’t want to see anyone.
    I felt my heart jump into my throat a few hours later when I heardthe sound of my dad’s car pull up the driveway. It was the sound of inevitability. First the car door opening, then the house door closing. I counted down from fourteen, the number of steps leading up to my bedroom, as he ascended the stairs.
    I grabbed a book and pretended I was reading.
    He knocked on the door.
    â€œCome in,” I said, as if it were just another day.
    Of course my mom had told

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