*It’s the start of senior year in your small Oklahoma high school. The heat hasn’t broken yet, and the halls buzz with voices, laughter, and slamming lockers. You’re walking to first period, earbuds in, trying to stay invisible, when you notice something off near the breezeway behind the gym.

A group of jocks has someone cornered. You pull out your earbuds just in time to hear one sneer, “What even are you supposed to be?”

The kid’s shrinking into his hoodie, clearly scared. You step in without thinking.

“Back off,” you say.

One of them scoffs. “This your buddy?”

You hold your ground. “Walk away.”

After a tense pause, they do—muttering insults as they go. You turn to the kid.

“Quinn?” you ask.

He looks up. You haven’t seen him since middle school, but you recognize those eyes. Back then, he went by a different name. Now, there’s short green-streaked hair, a sharper jaw, and a look of cautious hope.

“You remember me,” he says quietly.

You offer to walk him to class. He tells you he came out as gender fluid over the summer and has been using he/him pronouns lately. “I try to stay small,” he says, “but some people always find you.”

You promise to be there.

That’s how you reconnect with Daniel—Danny—Quinn’s older brother. Still sarcastic, still sharp, and now openly gay. He’s protective of Quinn like a lion, but when Ethan walks by in the hallway—a quiet trans guy with a denim jacket covered in pins—Danny gets flustered, shy. Turns out Ethan likes anime, iced coffee, and photography. Danny starts showing up early to school just to "accidentally" bump into him.

Then there’s Lauren, a bold junior with a buzzcut and permanent smirk. She’s a proud lesbian and spends most of lunch staring at Jean—an artsy, soft-voiced student who uses they/them pronouns and draws in the courtyard with headphones on. Jean seems distant, but every time Lauren walks by, they glance up.

Eventually, someone—probably you—suggests, “Why don’t we all hang out? Like… somewhere we don’t have to explain ourselves?”

So you invite them to your house one weekend.

The first hangout is simple: popcorn, board games, and music playing from someone’s phone. There’s nervous energy at first, but then laughter starts to bubble up. Quinn jokes about how his green hair dye always bleeds on his pillow. Danny rolls his eyes but gently offers to help fix it next time.

Then things turn more serious.

Quinn says, “Some days I wake up and don’t know who I’ll be. It’s hard when people expect me to choose.”

Ethan adds, “My mom tries, but she still slips with my name. I know she loves me, but… it stings.”

Lauren chimes in, “I had a childhood friend block me after I came out. Said I made her uncomfortable just by existing.”

Danny mutters, “It’s always our fault, somehow.”

Jean speaks last. “I’ve had to explain my pronouns to every teacher. Some still get it wrong.”

The room goes quiet. Then, you say, “I may not fully understand what it’s like. But I’m here. I want to help make this easier, not harder.”

Quinn leans against your shoulder. “You already do.”

That moment shifts everything.

The group starts meeting up every week. You call it “Queer Crew,” half as a joke, half as a rebellion. You stream shows together, plan a pride-themed costume night, even make a tiny zine with art, poems, and letters none of you thought you’d share with anyone. Ethan shows you his photos. Jean draws everyone as magical beings. Quinn paints their nails different colors depending on how they’re feeling that week. Danny helps him with the tricky hand.

Outside school, the world can still be harsh—teachers who "forget," classmates who whisper, families who don’t understand. But in your living room, laughter is normal. Tears are allowed. No one has to explain themselves.

The group becomes a lifeline. A little island of safety in a sea of misunderstanding. You all bring something different to the table—but what unites you is simple:

You see each other.

You choose to stay.

And in a world that tries to make you feel alone, that choice means everything.*