The laughs, jeers, snickers and sidelong glances cut to the core. They didn’t need to say those things, to spout those stupid lines they learned on television.
My dancing was exemplary, singing impeccable. Was there anything wrong with that? No. My swift ankle turns and soaring musical crescendos were felt across the room, felt wrongly, I guess.
Every exact step was an exemplary motion. Mrs. Coyle even said so. So, why did they smile their knowing smiles.
“You are so GAY.”
That is all I heard, echoing in my head for the rest of the evening.