A teen Idol's dreams: Jim Verraros, the 19-year-old American Idol finalist, talks for the first time about overcoming antigay abuse in school and finding the strength to come out and take on Hollywood. (Television).

Say what you want about American Idol's Jim Verraros--he's living a gay teenager's dream. He was one of 10 finalists competing for a record contract on last summer's most talked-about reality TV contest. He's just finished the "American Idols Live" concert tour, singing to thousands of screaming girls--and some starry-eyed boys--in packed arenas across the country. Gay kids write to thank him; straight teenage girls just want to touch his hand.

Whatever trip you want to lay on Verraros for the Idol cheese factor, he can take it. After enduring endless harassment for being a "faggot" in junior high in his hometown of Crystal Lake, Ill., he's prepared to stand up to all comers. Go ahead: Point out that he came in ninth out of 10 in the Idol pecking order. Say he got to the finals out of viewer sympathy after the show focused on his growing up with deaf parents and then showed him mercilessly dissed as undeserving by sharp-tongued Idol judge Simon Cowell. Verraros doesn't care. "If people voted for me because they sympathized with me, great!" he says defiantly. "More votes for me."

Idol fans discovered Verraros is gay through his online journal before it quietly disappeared from the Web--a mystery he is now happy to explain. "I took it down because [Fox TV] told me to," he says. "It wasn't because I was gay. It was because they thought I was trying to gain more votes and have that little extra edge."

Indeed, Verraros is anxious to talk about being an out teen, because he has a message for other gay and questioning youth: "There are people like you out there everywhere," he says, sitting tall in an Encino, Calif., Starbucks the afternoon after the final "American Idols Live" concert. "Trust me, they're there."

Why do you want to come out now?

I've given it a lot of thought, and I've done a lot of talking to my parents. My dad just kind of found out. They just flew in from Chicago to see the Seattle show last night, and they hugged me and said, "I love you and I accept you."

I know you talked to your mom before American Idol. Were you able to have a talk with your dad?

We did eventually--ironically, just last night. Backstage after the show, he just hugged me and said, "I love you and I accept you. Remember that." I just wanted to bawl. I never thought that was possible. He's very old-fashioned, narrow-minded, headstrong, stubborn--his family's very Greek.

So how did it go last night?

We went to my hotel room, and I got some room service--because they were staying at some crappy hotel and I was staying at the W in Seattle. We just talked and caught up on things, and of course my sexuality had to be discussed, but that was OK. And he was just very, "You're 19 years old. Whatever makes you happy will make me happy. I'm just afraid that people are going to harass you. I'm afraid that you're going to die. I'm afraid that people aren't going to accept you"--which I can totally see, coming from a parent. "But as long as you're happy and healthy, I love you." And I was just like, What? Is this a dream? Shouldn't you be telling me I'm wrong? But it wasn't like that at all.

So the day after coming out to your dad, you're coming out to the world.

Being on tour with American Idol has given me a lot of time to think about who I want to be and how I want to portray myself. I'm not looking to be the poster boy for homosexuality, but I think that it's time for people to be true to themselves--especially teens. I think that you should be able to act, sing, dance, write, drive race cars--whatever--and be gay and have that be OK.

I just got an E-mail from a 15-year-old fan, and he goes to Catholic school. And he had magazine clippings of me in his locker, and someone found them. A teacher found out and ripped them out of his locker, and word spread that he was gay. He lost a lot of his friends. His parents don't look at him the same way. But he wanted to tell me thank you because he knew that even though no one supported him, he knew that I would. That broke my heart. That's what I want to do. I mean, of course, I want to have my career. But I want to incorporate [activism] into my career as well.

[Two teenage girls come by the table. One politely asks for an autograph for the other, who's too shy to ask. Jim obliges with a smile. They leave.]

Those girls are like, "Can I touch your hand?" I'm like, "Oh, girl, if you only knew." It's really cute.

Do you think those two girls would really care if they knew you're gay?

It doesn't matter. [Pauses] I'm at the point where if I'm happy with myself and I'm doing what I love to do and people really do love me for what I do, then it shouldn't matter. I think it's a sad, sad thing to lose interest in someone because of their sexuality, because they choose to love and be loved. But I'm not going to fight for you to like me. I'm very comfortable with who I am--I love who I am. If you don't like it, then you don't have to read about me, and you don't have to watch me kiss a boy--just look the other way. That's all you have to do.

Are you out to the other Idol finalists?

Definitely the top 10, and they were more than supportive. That's kind of what drew me to coming out publicly, because I knew that these nine Idols--from different towns, different lives--they all see something the same in me, and they all love me no matter what.

How did the other finalists respond when rumors would come out about some of the other guys being gay?

They were just kind of like, "People are going to talk." Being in front of the public, you need to be prepared for that.

Did anyone come out to you?

The Idols? No.

But they support your coming-out. When I picked you up last week outside the hotel where you all were staying--to go to the photo shoot--[fellow Idol] R.J. came running over to say how proud he was of you.

He's great. I'm close with everyone. I love everyone to death. It's nice to know that I can be like, "Oh, I met the cutest boy," and everyone's genuinely interested. It makes me happy.

When did you figure out you were gay?

I think I was, like, 12 or 13, and my dad and I were watching Baywatch, and he made some comment about Pamela Anderson's breasts. And he looked at me like, Yeah? And I was thinking, No. But [to him] I was like, Yeah. And I was looking at the TV, thinking, OK, Cody needs to come back on. I just knew. I used to have friends that were girls--always. Like, I'd brush their hair--I knew; you just know. I knew I was different.

Did you come out to any of your girlfriends in high school?

No. I just couldn't. It just wasn't the right time.

What stopped you?

Junior high. My life was a living hell.

Tell me about that.

I was pinpointed as gay the minute I set foot in junior high. My voice wasn't as low as the other guys'. I loved choir. I loved theater. I was a lot more effeminate than most of the guys were, and of course guys pick up on that right away. And it got really, really bad. I was called "faggot" every day for a long time. I would literally run from class to class.

Did you tell anyone about this?

Yes, the school psychologist. She was amazing This was in seventh grade--I was miserable; I would literally come home crying every day. She said, "Make me a list of all the people who do this to you. We will call them in one at a time, and I'll let you have a conversation with them. I'll sit in the corner, you can say whatever you want, and they cannot touch you." I said, "Fine." I wrote down a list of probably about 200 people.

Two hundred people? Then what?

I gave her the list. And of course, we had to narrow it down to the extreme cases, and there were, like, 75 people who were literally, like, harassing me and threatening to kill me. Then I would take, like, maybe two periods a day for a week, and I would sit down and look them in the face and be like, "What's your problem? What have I ever done to you?" And of course, they'd deny it because [the psychologist] is sitting in the corner. I don't think there was any person who admitted, "It's because you're a faggot." No one. Ugh. Even going back to that is, like, so painful.

But you kept having these meetings.

Because I knew that I was tired of it. I literally wanted to die, I was so sick of it. I knew that my life was not supposed to be like this, and I knew that one day I was going to be able to show them where I was going and who I was going to be. In eighth grade a lot of it cut down. I landed the lead role in the play Tom Sawyer, and I changed my image. I wore a lot of baggy jeans, I gained weight, and it was fine for a while.

Was high school better?

Yeah. Everything changed. I was Big Theater Boy. Everyone knew who I was. I was a big personality. I made the first play when I was a freshman, and I was in leads all through high school. So high school was great, and I very rarely ever [heard] a comment like "Faggot," and if I did, I'd be like, "What the F is your problem?" Like, I stood up for myself, `cause I was tired of it.

But you didn't feel comfort, able enough to come out.

Yeah. But college came and changed my life--Monmouth College in Monmouth, Ill. I got a theater scholarship. It was 3 1/2 hours away from home. I needed that experience to find out who I was. And I came out, and it was easy because I was away from my parents. I was away from everyone at high school--I was my own person, and I was happy. It was awesome.

Then you transferred to Columbia College in Chicago. How was that?

It was beyond gay-friendly. Everyone was gay. Like, my dorm was, like, probably 60% gay. But I did musical theater, and it was very political. They never gave me a shot. That was when I decided that I needed to lose my weight. I was, like, 235 pounds. I was ready to change my life--my look, at least.

There are two things in my life that I want: to be successful and to be loved. And I really wanted to be loved at that point, because--and I believe this now--if you're not happy with yourself, you're not going to be happy with someone else. So I literally worked out to death until I was at the size that I wanted to be: I was a 36 waist; I went down to a 30. I'm 165 now. And my weight came off, and I started shopping in stores where I never thought I could.

Then you heard about the American Idol auditions.

Yeah. I decided, I'm going to do this for fun--not expecting anything, but just to do it and see what happens.

The show really played up the fact that your parents are deaf. How do you feel when people say, "Oh, he just got the sympathy vote"?

You can't win `em all! I mean, I wish that I could have been voted on for my pure hard-core raw talent, but I can't control that. Talent's only half of it.

But you're focusing now on acting again, not just singing.

I want to do sitcoms. I'd love to do Will & Grace. I'd love to do Friends. I want to model, actually, really bad, for Abercrombie and Dolce & Gabbana. Stuff like that. I kind of want to do a little bit of everything, actually. I'd love to do Broadway, you know?

Are you seeing anyone?

For once in my life I'm dating someone. I don't want to say too much--it's fairly new, almost a month, maybe. He's smart and adorable and just amazing to be around. He makes me feel, like, incredible. I can't really tell you how happy I am right now.

It gets harder from here. Hollywood is tough. Are you ready for that?

Oh yeah--oh, yeah. I can promise: American Idol won't be the last that people hear of me.