The Alliance (9 page)

“And after three teachers signed, I got verbal promises from six others that they support the creation of a GSA at Southside as well,” Scott said. “And Mr. Rosencranz offered to be the co-advisor with Mrs. Carney.”

“There's a lot of support for this, Mr. Winston,” I said. “All we need is for you to sign at the bottom to make it official.”

Winston eyed the petition. “So, who will be running this … alliance?”

Scott and I looked at each other. “Well, we want to do it together,” I said. “A straight boy, a queer girl …That's what the GSA is all about.”

Winston sighed, then rifled through his desk, looking for a pen. “If you read the charters, you know that all new organizations go through a ninety-day probation period. At the end of that time, you need to turn in a list of elected officers, minutes for your first three meetings, and detailed plans on how to use the money you'll be allotted as a school-sanctioned club.”

I shot a look at Scott. This was really happening!

We heard a knock behind us and turned to find Principal Rice standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Winston,” she said. “Could I have a word?”

Winston nodded, and the pair went into the hallway. We watched as she spoke quickly to Winston, who scowled and nodded. They both kept sneaking looks our way.

“This can't be good,” Scott said.

I shook my head. “We followed the rules. We did everything by the book. They can't stop us now.”

Rice gave Winston a pat on the back, waved at us, and left. Winston trudged back into his office, closing the door so the three of us could have privacy.

“Something's come up,” he said. I couldn't tell if he was happy or upset. I think he was trying hard not to be either. “The GSA is on hold. Indefinitely.”

Scott was the first out of his seat. “Why?”

“The school board had an emergency meeting last night. A concerned parent group got wind of plans for the alliance and prompted the board to put a stop to it.”

“They can't do that!” My hands were shaking I was so mad. All I could think about was calling my parents and having them go all legal on the school board.

Winston, for just a second, looked somewhat sympathetic. “They
have
done that. They feel homosexuality is a hot-button issue right now. They've implemented a ‘neutrality' policy. Teachers are not to discuss it. The school is to take no side on the issue. And because starting a Gay–Straight Alliance could be seen as endorsing the ‘hot-button issue,' we're not allowed to start one. I'm sorry.”

I stood there, hardly able to believe any of this. Scott was stonefaced, but I got the idea he was holding a lot in. He couldn't take his eyes off the petition. We'd worked so hard on it. Now it was all for nothing.

“Mr. Winston,” Scott said quietly, “could you keep that on file? Just in case the school board changes its mind.”

Winston grimaced. “I can do that, Mr. King. But these things don't resolve themselves overnight. I'm sure it won't be long before lawyers are involved…” He snuck a furtive glance my way. “And once this becomes a legal matter, it might not get decided until long after the two of you have graduated. What I'm saying is: don't get your hopes up.”

But, like he said he'd do, he opened a drawer and slid the petition into a file.

We thanked him and left the office. The warning bell rang, telling everyone it was time to get to first period.

“Cory…” Scott muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Cory Walton. I bet her mama's behind this. She pretty much told me this would happen. I didn't believe her.”

“You couldn't have known she'd take it this far.”

Scott's shoulders slumped. “We were so close …”

“Hey,” I said, nudging him. “You're talking like it's over. Sweetie, this was just the first battle. I'm not about to quit the war. And neither are you. Right?”

For a second, I thought he was gonna throw in the towel. His eyes got all dark, and he couldn't stop staring at the floor. Then, somewhere down the hall, we heard somebody say, “Hey, watch it, Jones! You faggot!” People laughed. To them, it was just another insult.

But it wasn't. Suddenly, it was like somebody lit a fire under him. Scott lifted his head and stuck out his jaw.

“For Jamie?” he asked, holding out his arm.

I hooked my elbow with his and looked him square in the eye.

“For
everyone.
”

Gabriel Goodman is a writer living in St. Paul, Minnesota.