4 The air was cold that evening, colder than I ever remembered it being. My hands shook, not at all from the chill but from the confrontation that had just taken place inside the walls of what I had known as home. My heart was heavier than my backpack, filled to the brim with hastily thrown clothes, toiletries and a couple of old photographs. “I can’t have a gay son!” My father’s voice echoed in my mind. His face red, his eyes spit fire and the door slammed shut behind me. Those words, that door, became an unbridgeable crack between me and the world I thought I knew. Hours turned into days. I slept on benches, in alleys, sometimes at a caring friend’s house. But it was clear that I couldn’t stay there for long. The whispered conversations, the sympathetic looks – they became too much. I didn’t want to be pitied. I wanted to be understood, accepted. Then I stumbled upon Rainbow Refuge, a shelter specifically for teens like me. At first, I was sceptical. Were they for real? Or was this another place that would let me down? I hesitated at the door, almost turned away, but a friendly face named Alex opened the door and welcomed me inside. Rainbow Refuge wasn’t just a place to sleep; it was a community. The walls were painted in bright colours, and there were rooms filled with books, art, music – resources to help us build and rebuild our lives. But more than the physical comforts, it was the people I met that changed my life. As days turned into weeks, I began to heal. The art room became my refuge. I started painting – first my pain, then my hopes, and then my dreams. Rainbow Refuge was more than just a shelter; it was a place that taught me to dream again. One day, Sara called me into her office. “We’re starting a new initiative,” she began, “an art exhibition of works created by teens at the shelter. We want to show the world that love and acceptance can overcome hate.” She paused, looking at me intently. “And we want you to be a part of it.” The art exhibition became my project, my redemption. It was a roaring success, with people from all over the city attending, including several gallery owners who expressed interest in my work. But the highlight was the last day when a familiar face stood at the entrance – my younger sister, Ella. Tears streamed down her face as she hugged me. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I am so sorry.” That wasn’t quite the reunion with my family I had imagined, but it was a start. And for the first time in months, I felt hope. Rainbow Refuge gave me more than a roof over my head. It gave me a purpose, a community, a family. It taught me that being true to oneself is the greatest act of courage and that love, in its purest form, is always unconditional. Lost and found Reading: Lost and found a) Read the short story about a gay teenager, then choose the correct answer (A, B, C or D) for questions 1–5. Put a cross ( ✘) in the correct box. The first one (0) has been done for you. 1 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 0 Why was the protagonist thrown out of his family home? a) He was caught shop-lifting. b) He was gay. c) He didn’t want to go to college. d) He was failing his classes. ✘ 54 Making a difference Nur zu Prüfzwecken – Eigentum des Verlags öbv
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