The Alliance (7 page)

Scott laughed. “You're joking, right? Getting teachers to sign on is the easy part. I can think of six who'd be willing. Just try finding thirty students in this school who give a damn about starting a Gay–Straight Alliance. They're either afraid of being labeled queer, or they're too homophobic to care.”

“Well,” I said, “you obviously haven't been talking to the right students, because I could fill that petition with signatures, but they're useless without teachers…”

Right about then, both Scott and I noticed that Mrs. Carney was leaning back and beaming, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, as my mom would say.

“Crisscross,” she said simply. “Carmen, you fit in a lot of different cliques. People respect you. You ask them to sign, and they'll sign. Scott, Carmen's right. All the signatures in the world won't do any good if you can't get three faculty members to sign. There's not a teacher in this school who doesn't use you as an example of a good student. They'll listen to you.”

I looked over at Scott, who'd gone red with embarrassment. Chances are, I was looking the same way too. It was an obvious solution. I didn't exactly like the idea of working with this guy. Everyone knew what a self-involved jerk he was. But Mrs. Carney was right. The faculty loved him. I didn't trust him not to abandon the GSA once it got going, but if he could get us there, it didn't matter. Starting the GSA was the only thing that mattered.

Scott pulled out his petition. At the bottom, where it said NAME OF STUDENT ORGANZIER, he'd already filled in his name. With a black pen, he added my name next to his, then handed me the petition.

“Unless you want your name on there first?” he asked. I almost thought he was being nice.

“That's okay,” I said. “Winston will take it more seriously if he sees your name first.”

Scott laughed. “Can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees
both
our names on this.”

Without even wanting to, I broke into a smile. Maybe
that
would be the best thing to come out of this: watching Winston's face explode.

Mrs. Carney looked at the clock. “First period starts soon. You should get heading to class.”

“Uh, not so fast,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “You brought us together. That means you
must
support the idea of a GSA, right?”

Scott grinned and slid our petition over to her. “Someone's got to set a good example for the other teachers, Mrs. Carney. We sure could use a faculty advisor.”

Mrs. Carney reached into her desk and pulled out a pen. “I thought you'd never ask.”

And as the first bell of the day rang, she signed her name in big, bright, beautiful red ink at the very top of the petition. The door opened, and students started pouring in.

Mrs. Carney greeted them quickly, then turned back to us. “You've got a lot of work to do, you two. I'll be very disappointed if my name is the only one on the top of that petition by the end of the day.”

Scott and I stepped out into the hall. He held up the petition. “I can get the next two signatures easy. Meet me at my locker—number twenty-seven—before fourth period and I'll pass it off to you.”

I nodded. If
anyone
during my lunch period thought they were leaving the cafeteria without signing, they were in for a huge surprise. I quickly added my name to his on the petition.

“Try not to let the teachers see my name before you ask them to sign,” I said. “They might change their minds.”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? With your name on here, all I have to do is threaten them that if they don't sign, you'll take up every minute of class time arguing with them. They'll sign in a second.”

Scott took the petition and wove through the hall.

All I have to do is threaten them that if they don't sign, you'll take up every minute of class time arguing with them.

Now why hadn't
I
thought of that?

M

r. Rosencranz studied the petition carefully, reading it over and over and not saying a word. First period AP History had just let out. The room was almost completely empty, and the next class would be arriving shortly. Which meant I wouldn't have a lot of time to get to my next class if he didn't sign soon.

“I'm not asking you to be the advisor,” I said, trying to speed him up. “See? Mrs. Carney signed there, saying she'd do that. All I need is two more signatures from faculty saying they think a GSA would be a good idea. I know you must have seen your share of bullying in the halls, Mr. Rosencranz. I'm sure you don't want to be condemned to repeat that.”

As a lover of history, there was a quote Mr. Rosencranz was always fond of:
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it
.

He looked up at me over the rims of his glasses. “Trying to use my own quotations against me, Mr. King?” A hint of a smile told me he was more proud I remembered the quote than angry I was playing him.

But the smile disappeared as he held up the petition. “I assume this has something to do with Jamie Ballard.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes. I remember the two of you sitting in the back of my room during junior year, laughing as we talked about the Vietnam War.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Mr. Rosencranz sighed. “I really admire what you're doing here. But I feel compelled to warn you that you may not know what you're getting into. There is a very strong conservative element in this school. You may not see it every day, but it's there. Usually working behind the scenes. There are those who won't appreciate you trying to start this group. Some might even try to stop it.”

I just couldn't understand that. Why try to stop a group that only wanted to help? Creating a place for queer students to feel safe was a
good
thing. Why couldn't people see that?

“Maybe, sir, but I have to try,” I said. “For Jamie.”

He nodded, got out his pen, and signed his name next to Mrs. Carney's. “If anyone can do it, Mr. King, it's you. Oh, and Ms. Mendoza. She's quite the firebrand, isn't she?”

I smiled. “I'll tell her you said so, sir. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear it.” The class was nearly full. I'd be late if I didn't hustle. “Thanks!”

I bolted from the room to find Cory leaning against the wall nearby.

“Hey,” she said, waving.

“Hey,” I said. “Look, I gotta get to class.”

“Can I walk with you?” she asked.

“As long as you're going my way,” I said and moved down the hall.

Cory fell into step next to me. “I'm sorry things ended the way they did, Scott. I'm hoping we can still be friends.”

My heart beat hard in my chest. If I told her no, was I as guilty of intolerance as she was? “I guess,” I said. “Maybe.”

Cory hugged herself with her arms, which was not a good sign. She only did that when she was really nervous.

“Okay, good,” she said. “So, as a friend, I need to tell you. You really need to quit trying to make this GSA happen.”

I growled. “I'm not quitting, Cory. And a
friend
wouldn't try to talk me out of it. A
friend
would support me.”

“My mama's not happy about this, Scott.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. Cory's mom, Sheila Walton, was well-known. She was a prominent member of the local Baptist church and had spearheaded several attempts to get books banned from the school. Some of them even succeeded. She was someone you didn't make mad. She could be sweet as pie one minute and your worst nightmare the next.

“You told your mama?” I asked.

She nodded. “I was really worried about you. Honest, I was. She said she won't let the school sanction sodomy.”

“The school's not sanctioning sodomy, for crying out loud!”

“If the GSA gets approved, they can get school money. School money is tax money. And she doesn't want her tax money spent to glorify sin.”

I really wanted to let her have it with both barrels. Just yell at her until I was hoarse about what a horrible bigot she and her mama were. But I didn't have time. Besides, as long as Carmen and I did our jobs and got the petition signed, there was nothing Mrs. Walton could do to stop us.

“Anything else?” I asked her.

Cory hugged herself even tighter. “I didn't want you to hear it from anybody else. I'm seeing somebody new.”

I felt my ears flush. I knew that I had broken us up, but it still stung to know she'd moved on so fast. Her phone chirped. She took it out and smiled.

“He's always texting me cute little things,” she said. “You may be mad at me, Scott, but I do want to be friends, okay? No matter what happens.”

I looked over her shoulder at the text message:

SEE U 2 NIGHT? V.

I grunted. “Who's V?”

“It's just his nickname,” Cory said with a giggle. “He uses it online. Short for VictorEE.”

I snatched the phone away and checked the inbox.

VictorEE was Jon Renquist.

“A

ll right, everybody! Forks down, eyes up, and
listen!”

I stood on a table in the middle of the cafeteria, my algebra homework rolled up into a megaphone. Two years of drama and this lesbian could
project
. Instantly, everyone quieted down. All eyes fell on me.

“Show of hands: how many people here knew Jamie Ballard?”

I counted about twelve hands. I knew it wasn't true, but I went with it.

“For those of you who didn't know him, Jamie went to this school. He was your classmate. Recently, he killed himself. You see, Jamie was gay. And some people had a problem with that, and they wouldn't let him forget it.

“And I bet some of you know what that's like. I bet
a lot
of you know what it's like to be shoved into a wall or called gay, whether it's true or not. And I've got a feeling you'd like it to stop. Well, I'm here to tell you
it can stop
!”

“Do it, Carmen!” Somebody yelled. Applause broke out. People whooped.