Surviving high school: three out novelists talk about the rewards of writing books for teens discovering their sexuality.

In high school, Alex Sanchez says, he was "closeted and shut down." But he found comfort in the library. "Librarians know us," says Sanchez. "I've heard from some that when they find a misshelved book that's gay-themed, they leave it where it is--because they know that some kid is coming back to keep reading it in secret." These days, Sanchez and other out writers are breaking the silence with smart novels for gay and questioning teens.

"You've helped change the world," says a lesbian high school teacher to a gay male student who has just come out under difficult circumstances in Sanchez's forthcoming Rainbow High (Simon and Schuster, $16.95). This simple, truthful moment doesn't shout its message, and that's what makes it so moving. "We have power to make social change happen, even if it's in a small way," says Sanchez, who also wrote Rainbow High's predecessor, Rainbow Boys, which in 2001 was named a Best Book for Young Adults by the American Library Association.

Both Boys and High focus on three high school senior friends--Jason, Kyle, and Nelson--sharing the burden of college decisions, the fear of coming out, the yearning for love, worry about AIDS, and, naturally, the question of what to do about the prom. At first, it was a tough sell. "A few publishers did not know what to make of it," says the single, Virginia-based author. "They didn't know if there was a market."

Simon and Schuster took a chance on Boys, cross-marketing the novel to both young readers and adults--and the sequel is proof that this move paid off. But, more important, Sanchez is happy to be a voice for kids. "It's been inspiring to me to see [the book] motivating people to take action in their own lives, whether it means they started a gay-straight alliance or came out or .just understood more. I've received E-mails from straight teenage boys who say, 'I always thought gay guys were gross before ... '"

Julie Anne Peters's first lesbian themed young-adult novel, Keeping You a Secret (Little, Brown, $16.95), covers similar emotional terrain but keeps its focus on two girls in love. When Cece, an openly lesbian transfer student, meets Holland, the Stanfford-bound high achiever, Holland doesn't know what hit her. Intense bonding and equally intense conflict ensue.

Initially, the Colorado-based Peters didn't want to write this book. "I have a body of work, children's books, that I've been writing for the past 18 years," she says. "Then my editor asked, 'Why don't you write me a young-adult lesbian love story?' To which I responded, 'Are you crazy?' I was so afraid of that kind of global outing. I had fans I felt protective of. I didn't want to be accused of luring young girls to 'the dark side.' But so many stories aren't being told that need to be told."

Sherrie Leggett, Peters's partner of 29 years, encouraged her, and the response to Secret has overwhelmed its creator. "If the volume of mail is any indication, there's a hunger for this, a yearning," says Peters. "In the first month I must have gotten hundreds of letters. I'm amazed--and I could kick myself for not doing it earlier."

Brent Harper's Geography Club is a first for him too: his first published novel. It came after years of banging on the publishing world's door, writing books and scripts, and freelancing for magazines (including The. Advocate) as well as the world of greeting card sentiments ("Like everything in writing, they picked the cards that I thought sucked, and the ones I liked they rejected"). Now the author, who fives in Tacoma, Wash., with novelist Michael Jensen, his partner of 12 years, is basking in the praise the book has received.

Geography Club (HarperCollins, $15.99), which brings to mind a queer Breakfast Club, follows a diverse group of high schoolers who stumble across one another, forming new bonds in an after-school group of their own design. Though they name it Geography Club hoping that the boredom factor will keep others away, the kids find they must rise to meet the challenges of visibility.

The 38-year-old Hartinger, who cofacilitates a gay-straight alliance at his old Jesuit high school, echoes his fellow authors' concern for queer kids who face even bigger hassles now that they're more visible. "People my age could often leave [homosexuality] unsaid. Now it's all said," Harlinger says. "We have to listen to people debate the morality of our existence; kids come out earlier; more schools have gay-straight alliances.

"The upside to this," Hartinger adds, "is that they don't necessarily have to be deprived of an adolescence. The gay-straight alliances I've seen would surprise people with just how innocent they are. And it's a chance for gay teenagers to flirt and have crushes and do all the completely adolescent things that gay kids were not allowed to do 20 years ago."

White writes about film far E: Online.