The noise doesn’t pick back up like I expected. Some of the people in the front won’t look at me, instead choosing to focus on the ground or behind my head. Of course, they won’t talk about me once I’m actually here. Even the professor guy won’t meet my eye.

“And I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know what you’re upset about,” I say. Miles squeezes my hand. “So I’m going to tell you a few things I think you need to hear. Number one, I’m adopted. My parents weren’t afraid to adopt me, because they knew so many gay men who died from AIDS in their community. You might remember that period of history.”

More silence. Light from the cars coming into the parking lot is getting in my eyes, but I focus on Mrs. Davidson, in front of me. She keeps avoiding my gaze. I keep my eyes on her anyway.

“For those of you who don’t know, HIV is a virus that infects my blood,” I say, lifting up my chin. “You can’t see it on my skin or in my eyes or hair. I look just as normal as anyone else.”

More people are staring at me, some of them with serious expressions. They don’t look like people ready to pick a fight, at least not now. I take another breath.

“My medication is what keeps me alive,” I say. “It keeps me healthy enough to direct this play, and it kept me healthy for most of my life. It lowers the amount of virus in my blood until my doctor isn’t able to detect it.”

Miles squeezes my hand again, but I don’t allow myself to look at him. I’ll get too distracted.

“Even though my viral count is really low, I still have HIV. I just can’t transmit the virus to anyone else.”

It’s absolutely silent now. No leaves moving, no birds chirping. Mr. Palumbo hasn’t stepped in to say anything, so I guess he’s listening, too.

“Now, none of this is actually your business,” I say, trying—and failing—to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “And you probably could’ve found any of this out if you did some research. My HIV isn’t a threat to you, but your ignorance is a threat to me. I’ve been bullied, harassed, and told that I’m unwanted at this school. Do you know why HIV-positive people don’t disclose? Because it’s dangerous. People have been injured and even murdered for disclosing. It should be my choice, but you’ve taken it away from me. But I’m not losing the show, too. I deserve to be here.”

I pause, glancing at Palumbo. He smiles.