It all started innocuously enough -- my health class had some guest speakers in to talk about homosexuality and they gave a phone number for a resource center for gay youth. The teacher made us all write it down, just so the ones who wanted the number wouldn't look conspicuous. To make a long story short (yeah, I know, too late already) I called up and found out about the youth group. They meet every Saturday afternoon, just a block and a half from the center of the known universe -- the corner of 18th and Castro. Of course, over the summer, we met just about every day, mostly just sitting on the newspaper racks next to Walgreen's, or sometimes going down to the beach or hanging out at the mall. My mother seemed pleased that I had friends and was getting out instead of moping around or watching TV all summer, but she dropped a few hints (which I pretended not to notice) that she'd really like to meet some of my new friends.