“Okay, rule number one: if you do not understand something, you need to stop me and tell me you don’t understand. If I ask if you’ve got it and you say you’ve got it but you don’t really have it, then it’s not my fault that you haven’t got it. Got it?”

“Does it bother you when you see Daddy kissing Josh?” he asked.Ty shook his head and made a funny face. “No, not really. I guess you really like him a lot.”“I do,” Rex agreed. “I love Josh.”“I love Josh too, and so I don’t care if you kiss him. But I thought boys only kissed girls.”Rex nodded. “Yeah, well, that’s how it is most of the time, but you know some boys kiss other boys and some girls kiss other girls.”“Well, I don’t wanna kiss no girls!” Ty said emphatically.Rex and Josh both laughed. “Maybe someday you will, though. If you do, that’s fine, and if you don’t, that’s fine too. For right now, you can just kiss Daddy.” He leaned in and kissed Ty on the forehead.”

“I can tell you a lot of things about bullying and what it does to a person.” Tears are forming in his eyes as he continues.”But sadly, I can’t tell you that I’ve done my part to make it stop.”

“Well, if you were perfect, then you wouldn't be real. Maybe those things about you that you think I hate are actually the ones I find most interesting...”

“The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home.”

“Really it’s not deliberate. Sometimes I try really hard to be anything but gay. I watch the other guys—and I know what you’re thinking. You think I mean I check them out, and yeah, I can’t help but do that too. But what I’m sayin is that I watch the really normal guys, the ones who are into sports, who act all totally straight, and I try to copy them. I try to lower the timber of my voice, not sound so nasally when I talk. I try to gesture with my hands in a manly sorta way instead of all limp-wristed and girly. I try to remember not to sit with my legs crossed, and I try really hard to avoid throwing a ball like a girl.”

“They‟re from my best friend,” I said. “They‟re from my best gay friend, Curtis Chapman.” He stood there, frozen, possibly thinking I was joking. “Curtis won‟t be back. He got out… he was saved. He won‟t have to be called names, picked on, tortured, and assaulted anymore. He‟s gone to a different school, and your days of bullying him are over.” “Jon, the kid‟s a fag!” “And he‟s my best friend, and I love him… and so does God”