by Zachary Clark

I glowered at Bobby all through lunch. “Stop looking at me like that,” he said. So I looked at my harmless sandwich. “Are you going to be silent this whole time?” I took a...

by Zachary Clark

“How old are you?” she asked me. “Eighteen.” “You look twelve. Is this your first time at a gay bar, Mr. Eighteen? They can’t hear you, honey.” She pushed the microp...