Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 59
Recognition

The new kid's name was Alex.

They'd transferred to St. Catherine's in November, right after Thanksgiving break. Fifth grade, same class as Ash. Small, with dyed streaks of purple in their dark hair, wearing a rainbow bracelet and a shirt that said "They/Them" in bold letters.

Mrs. Anderson had done the introduction carefully. "Class, this is Alex. They use they/them pronouns, which means when we talk about Alex, we say 'they' instead of 'he' or 'she.' Let's all make them feel welcome."

Some kids had looked confused. Others curious. A few had exchanged glances that Ash recognized immediately—the judgment, the mockery already forming.

Ash knew exactly how this was going to go.

At lunch the first day, Alex sat alone at the end of a table, eating quietly while sketching in a notebook. Ash watched from across the cafeteria as a group of boys from their class walked past, saying something that made Alex's shoulders tense.

"Freak," Ash heard one of them mutter.

By the end of the first week, the bullying had escalated. Nothing physical—yet—but constant verbal jabs. Comments about Alex's appearance, their pronouns, their interests. The kind of casual cruelty that kids excelled at.

"Did you see what they're wearing today?" someone would whisper, loud enough for Alex to hear.

"Why do they dress like that?"

"My dad says that stuff isn't real. That you're either a boy or a girl."

Ash watched it happen and felt something burn in his chest. Recognition. Anger. The memory of being on the receiving end of exactly this kind of harassment.

It came to a head on a Tuesday in December.

Ash was at his locker between classes when he heard raised voices near the bathroom.

"—just weird and you know it!"

"Leave me alone."

"Why do you even dress like that? Are you a boy or a girl?"

"I'm neither. I'm non-binary."

"That's not a real thing. You're just confused."

Ash turned the corner to find three boys—Jake, Connor, and Ryan, all from the sixth grade—surrounding Alex, who was backed against the wall, clutching their notebook to their chest.

"Hey," Ash said, his voice carrying more authority than he felt. "Back off."

The boys turned. Jake, the ringleader, smirked. "Oh look, Walsh is here to defend the freak. That's cute."

"I said back off."

"Or what? You going to fight all three of us?" Jake stepped closer. He was bigger than Ash, older, and clearly enjoying the confrontation.

Ash's adult brain calculated the odds. Three sixth-graders, all bigger than him. This would not end well if it came to a fight.

But he stood his ground anyway.

"I don't need to fight you. I just need to walk Alex to their next class. So move."

"Why do you even care? Unless..." Connor's eyes lit up with malicious glee. "Unless you're one of them too. Are you, Walsh? Is that why you rejected Madison and Hannah? Because you're into weird stuff?"

"I'm not gay or non-binary or anything else," Ash said evenly. "I just don't like bullies. Now move."

For a moment, it hung in the balance. Three against one, the hallway mostly empty, the potential for violence real.

Then a teacher's voice rang out: "What's going on here?"

Mr. Patterson—Ash's old second-grade teacher who still taught at St. Catherine's—appeared from his classroom.

The sixth-graders scattered immediately.

"Nothing, Mr. Patterson," Jake called over his shoulder.

Mr. Patterson looked at Ash and Alex. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine," Ash said. "Just heading to class."

After Mr. Patterson left, Alex looked at Ash with wide eyes. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, I did."

"They're going to give you shit now. Everyone's going to think you're..." Alex trailed off.

"Let them think whatever they want." Ash gestured down the hall. "Come on. What class do you have next?"

"Math. With Mrs. Anderson."

"Same. Walk with me."

They walked in silence for a moment. Then Alex said quietly, "Thanks. For standing up for me."

"Those guys are assholes."

"I know. But most people just ignore it. Or join in." Alex glanced at him. "You're Noam, right? The baseball player?"

"Yeah. And you're Alex."

"Yeah." A pause. "I like your style, actually. Most jocks are the ones doing the bullying."

"I'm not most jocks."

In class, Ash noticed the stares. The whispers. Word had apparently spread fast that he'd defended Alex. That he'd stood up to Jake Morrison—who'd been a problem since elementary school—for the weird new kid.

At lunch, Marcus was the first to bring it up.

"Dude, did you really tell Jake to back off from Alex?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" Tyler asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, Alex is kind of weird, right? With the pronouns and stuff?"

"Alex is fine. Jake's the problem." Ash bit into his sandwich. "I don't like bullies."

"But now everyone's saying you're gay again," Daniel said. "Jake's telling everyone you defended Alex because you're into them or whatever."

"I defended Alex because three sixth-graders were cornering one fifth-grader. That's not a fair fight."

"Still," Marcus said carefully. "People are talking. Like, more than before."

Ash looked at his friends—his teammates, the boys he'd played sports with for years. Saw the confusion on their faces, the social calculation happening.

"If you guys have a problem with me being friends with Alex, say it now," Ash said flatly.

"We don't have a problem," Tyler said quickly. "We're just saying, like... it's going to make things weird."

"Then things are weird. I can handle it."

Emma, who'd been listening from the next table over, moved to sit with them. "For what it's worth, I think it's cool that you stood up to Jake. He's been a bully since forever and no one ever calls him on it."

"Thank you."

"And Alex is really nice, by the way. We have art class together. They're super talented." Emma looked at the boys. "Maybe instead of worrying about what people think, you should actually talk to Alex. They're interesting."

After lunch, Alex caught up to Ash in the hallway.

"Hey, can I sit with you guys at lunch tomorrow? Or is that going to make things worse for you?"

Ash thought about it. About the rumors already swirling. About his teammates' discomfort. About the social cost of being associated with the weird kid.

"Yeah, you can sit with us."

"Really?"

"Really. Just warning you, my friends are kind of dumb sometimes. They're not mean, just... typical fifth-grade boys."

Alex smiled—the first real smile Ash had seen from them. "I can handle typical fifth-grade boys. It's the sixth-grade assholes I have trouble with."

Over the next few weeks, Alex became a regular fixture at their lunch table. It was awkward at first—the boys didn't know how to talk to someone so different from them. But gradually, things normalized.

Alex talked about art and music and books. Had strong opinions about movies. Was funny in a dry, sarcastic way that Marcus appreciated.

"You're not what I expected," Marcus admitted one day.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. Someone who'd make it a big deal about pronouns and stuff."

"I mean, I do care about pronouns. But I'm also just a person who likes regular stuff." Alex shrugged. "I'm not that complicated."

The rumors about Ash didn't die down. If anything, they intensified. The fact that he'd befriended Alex, that they sat together at lunch and talked in the hallways, fed speculation.

"Walsh is definitely gay."

"Did you see him with Alex? They're probably dating."

"My mom says people who defend that kind of stuff are usually like that themselves."

Tyler reported the gossip with increasing concern. "Dude, it's getting bad. People are really talking."

"Let them talk."

"Don't you care what people think?"

Ash thought about it. Did he care? His thirty-two-year-old consciousness knew these were fifth and sixth graders whose opinions would be irrelevant in a few years. His almost-eleven-year-old body felt the social pressure, the desire to fit in.

But he also remembered being the queer kid. Being the one getting bullied. Being the one everyone talked about.

He'd survived it then. He could survive defending someone going through it now.

"Not really," Ash said finally. "I know I'm not gay. Alex knows I'm just being a decent person. You guys know I'm your friend. Everyone else can think whatever they want."

Two weeks before winter break, Jake Morrison cornered Ash after baseball practice.

"You think you're so cool, defending that freak."

"I think you're a bully who picks on people smaller than you," Ash said, not backing down.

"You're smaller than me too," Jake pointed out.

"So take your shot. Or is three-on-one more your speed?"

They stared at each other. Jake was bigger, older. But Ash had been through worse than a middle school bully. Had faced down his own demons. This kid was nothing.

Jake must have seen something in his eyes, because he stepped back. "Whatever. You're not worth it. Enjoy being the gay kid's boyfriend."

After he left, Coach Williams emerged from his office. "Everything okay out here?"

"Fine, Coach."

"I heard about you standing up to those sixth-graders." Coach Williams looked at him seriously. "That took guts. Especially knowing the social fallout."

"Alex needed someone to have their back."

"They did. And you stepped up. That's leadership, Noam. Real leadership. Not just on the field, but in life." Coach Williams squeezed his shoulder. "I'm proud of you. Whatever people are saying, don't let it change who you are."

"I won't."

At home that night, Mom asked how school was going.

"Fine."

"I heard from Mrs. Anderson that you've been spending time with the new student. Alex?"

"Yeah. They're cool."

"And I also heard there's been some... talk. About you defending them from bullies."

Ash looked up from his homework. "Are you about to tell me I shouldn't be friends with Alex?"

"No. I'm about to tell you I'm proud of you." Mom sat down at the table. "Alex's mom called me. She wanted to thank you for being kind to her child. She said Alex has had a really hard time at their old school, and having someone stand up for them has made a huge difference."

"Oh."

"She also mentioned that there are rumors about you. That some kids are speculating about your sexuality because you're friends with Alex."

"Yeah. People think I'm gay."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Ash thought about it. "I don't really care. I know I'm not. Alex knows I'm just being a friend. The people who matter know the truth."

"That's very mature." Mom smiled. "For what it's worth, even if you were gay, we'd love you just the same. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"Good. And I want you to know that standing up for someone who's being bullied—that's exactly the kind of person we want you to be. Regardless of what anyone says."

The day before winter break, Alex gave Ash a drawing.

It was a sketch of the two of them at lunch—Ash mid-laugh at something, Alex smiling beside him, the rest of their friend group around the table.

"I wanted to say thank you," Alex said. "For being my friend. For standing up for me. For not being weird about... me."

"You don't have to thank me for basic human decency."

"Maybe not. But most people don't give it, so it means something when someone does." Alex shifted their backpack. "I know people give you shit for hanging out with me. I know it makes things complicated for you. So... thank you."

"You're my friend. Friends don't ditch friends because of rumors."

"Well, you're the first friend I've had who actually lived by that." Alex smiled. "Have a good break, Noam."

"You too."

That night, Ash pinned the drawing to his wall, next to his baseball trophies and swim medals. It felt right, somehow. Physical evidence of different parts of his life.

The athlete. The artist. The friend who stood up for people who reminded him of who he used to be.

"My name is Ash," he whispered. "I'm thirty-two years old. I'm almost eleven years old. Today I'm being called gay because I defended a non-binary kid from bullies. And I don't care what people think because I remember what it was like to be that kid."

Four thousand, eight hundred and twenty-six days to go.

But today he'd stood up for someone who needed it. Today he'd chosen being a good person over being popular. Today he'd recognized himself in someone else and decided their safety mattered more than his reputation.

The old Ash—the one who'd been bullied, ostracized, called names—would be proud.

The current Noam—athlete, popular, with everything to lose socially—had made the right choice anyway.

Both things could be true.

Both things were true.

And that felt exactly right.