'ALL I WANTED was to be your friend,' said Butch. He turned to hide his tears. He jogged away, soon tired, then trudged home, slumped shoulders edged through the door.

'Whatever is wrong with you?' asked his mum.

'Why did Dad name me Butch?'

'Would you have preferred Brian? That was our first choice.'

'Anything but Butch. All the kids at school laugh at me. They go on about fierce dogs and gay men. I am not Butch,' he stormed to his room.

There was a tap, tap, tap at his door, but no answer. Then, finally, his mother popped her head in.

'I've got your dinner ready. Do you want it here or downstairs?'

The boy lay on his back with a pillow over his face.

'Butch, Butch, are you okay?'

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