whisper.
“Don’t be too late,” Jessa said. “She may be last alphabetically, but we’re cutting it close as it is.”
Jessa and Ricky collected their clothes from the floor and took them out of the bathroom, glancing back at me with worried faces. Kate waited until they were definitely out of earshot before she started talking.
“You can do this, okay? You have to. Not for your mom, but for you. You deserve this, Corey. You work so hard to make this school a better place. With the Gay-Straight Alliance and the prefect stuff, the antibullying campaign, and all your hard work doing fund-raisers last year—you deserve to be class president for all that, not just valedictorian!”
“I don’t do that stuff for recognition,” I sighed, waving my cue cards through the air as though the blood might dry and flake off, leaving clean white cardstock behind.
Kate grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to look her in the face. “Exactly. You do it because you’re selfless and good , and you are the perfect person to represent our graduating class. You work hard to get good grades and do good at this school while you’re at it. Do you really think there’d be a GSA at this hick school without you? A dozen queer kids at this school owe you their safety. They’ll be voting for you out there.”
“But what if I lose?” I whispered. I bit my lip and averted my eyes.
“If that’s the worst thing that could happen, why on earth wouldn’t you go out there?”
I swallowed hard. “It would be humiliating. My mother—”
“No offense, but who gives a shit about your mother?” Kate cut me off, tipping my chin up to meet her eyes. Her manicured nails pricked the skin at my jaw, but I didn’t mind. Kate could be quite captivating. Beautiful but deadly. “She isn’t voting. It isn’t her graduation. She already got to do this. It’s your turn.”
“It’s my turn,” I repeated.
Kate spun me around and hooked her arm through mine. Before I could protest, she was marching me out of the bathroom and down the hallway, her heels clicking loudly on the tile. We made it to the stage door of the auditorium before I could even catch my breath. I could hear one of my competitors making his speech, the words muffled by the heavy door.
“You can do this,” Kate whispered. Then she hugged me. I hugged back, hard, tucking my face into the warm crook of her neck. “It’s your turn.”
She kissed the top of my head and then let go, dashing away before I could say anything else. She disappeared around the corner, heading for the doors to the auditorium so she could watch me make a fool of myself out there.
When I could hear applause, I quietly opened the heavy stage door and stepped into the wing. It was dark, but I had a clear view to the brightly lit stage, where four boys sat after having made their speeches. Principal Sterner said my name, and I stepped out of the darkness and into the spotlight.
A hush fell. Principal Sterner’s eyes widened almost cartoonishly when he saw my face. I walked up to the podium in silence and then smiled painfully at the crowd.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said into the microphone, standing on tiptoe to reach it. I adjusted it quickly to my height. “I took an unexpected trip and may have broken my nose.”
The crowd murmured, seemingly unsure if that was a joke. I couldn’t see anyone through the bright stage lights, but I could imagine what I looked like—bruised, bloody, and a little sick.
“That was a joke,” I explained, feeling a flush come to my cheeks. “It’s not broken. But you know that uneven step in the courtyard? Someone really ought to fix that.” I glanced at Principal Sterner, who had turned a strange shade of puce. “I mean, I can’t be the only person at this school with two left feet!”
There was some laughter from the students, and I took that as a win.
“I had a speech prepared,” I continued, holding up my bloody cue cards. “But unfortunately
“Don’t be too late,” Jessa said. “She may be last alphabetically, but we’re cutting it close as it is.”
Jessa and Ricky collected their clothes from the floor and took them out of the bathroom, glancing back at me with worried faces. Kate waited until they were definitely out of earshot before she started talking.
“You can do this, okay? You have to. Not for your mom, but for you. You deserve this, Corey. You work so hard to make this school a better place. With the Gay-Straight Alliance and the prefect stuff, the antibullying campaign, and all your hard work doing fund-raisers last year—you deserve to be class president for all that, not just valedictorian!”
“I don’t do that stuff for recognition,” I sighed, waving my cue cards through the air as though the blood might dry and flake off, leaving clean white cardstock behind.
Kate grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to look her in the face. “Exactly. You do it because you’re selfless and good , and you are the perfect person to represent our graduating class. You work hard to get good grades and do good at this school while you’re at it. Do you really think there’d be a GSA at this hick school without you? A dozen queer kids at this school owe you their safety. They’ll be voting for you out there.”
“But what if I lose?” I whispered. I bit my lip and averted my eyes.
“If that’s the worst thing that could happen, why on earth wouldn’t you go out there?”
I swallowed hard. “It would be humiliating. My mother—”
“No offense, but who gives a shit about your mother?” Kate cut me off, tipping my chin up to meet her eyes. Her manicured nails pricked the skin at my jaw, but I didn’t mind. Kate could be quite captivating. Beautiful but deadly. “She isn’t voting. It isn’t her graduation. She already got to do this. It’s your turn.”
“It’s my turn,” I repeated.
Kate spun me around and hooked her arm through mine. Before I could protest, she was marching me out of the bathroom and down the hallway, her heels clicking loudly on the tile. We made it to the stage door of the auditorium before I could even catch my breath. I could hear one of my competitors making his speech, the words muffled by the heavy door.
“You can do this,” Kate whispered. Then she hugged me. I hugged back, hard, tucking my face into the warm crook of her neck. “It’s your turn.”
She kissed the top of my head and then let go, dashing away before I could say anything else. She disappeared around the corner, heading for the doors to the auditorium so she could watch me make a fool of myself out there.
When I could hear applause, I quietly opened the heavy stage door and stepped into the wing. It was dark, but I had a clear view to the brightly lit stage, where four boys sat after having made their speeches. Principal Sterner said my name, and I stepped out of the darkness and into the spotlight.
A hush fell. Principal Sterner’s eyes widened almost cartoonishly when he saw my face. I walked up to the podium in silence and then smiled painfully at the crowd.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said into the microphone, standing on tiptoe to reach it. I adjusted it quickly to my height. “I took an unexpected trip and may have broken my nose.”
The crowd murmured, seemingly unsure if that was a joke. I couldn’t see anyone through the bright stage lights, but I could imagine what I looked like—bruised, bloody, and a little sick.
“That was a joke,” I explained, feeling a flush come to my cheeks. “It’s not broken. But you know that uneven step in the courtyard? Someone really ought to fix that.” I glanced at Principal Sterner, who had turned a strange shade of puce. “I mean, I can’t be the only person at this school with two left feet!”
There was some laughter from the students, and I took that as a win.
“I had a speech prepared,” I continued, holding up my bloody cue cards. “But unfortunately
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