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"“This is about Ralph then isn’t it.” Jack accused with a blank face, anger festering deep within him. “I knew you were queer, I always knew. Also I never said that I owned you Simon.” Tears pricked at Jack’s eyes as the pace of his breathing picked up. He wiped his eyes with his free hand smearing around the clay on his face.
Simon’s stomach dropped. He felt dizzy like his body would give out under him any moment. That word, queer. The one his father and the other boys in choir had often used to describe him when they thought he wasn’t listening. He hated it, and himself. Because he knew that they were right. He didn’t want them to be. He prayed every night that it would go away. But it never did."