hot-button issue right now. Theyâve implemented a âneutralityâ policy. Teachers are not to discuss it. The school is to take no side on the issue. And because starting a GayâStraight Alliance could be seen as endorsing the âhot-button issue,â weâre not allowed to start one. Iâm sorry.â
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 couldnât take his eyes off the petition. Weâd worked so hard on it. Now it was all for nothing.
âMr. Winston,â Scott said quietly, âcould you keep that on file? Just in case the school board changes its mind.â
Winston grimaced. âI can do that, Mr. King. But these things donât resolve themselves overnight. Iâm sure it wonât be long before lawyers are involvedâ¦â He snuck a furtive glance my way. âAnd once this becomes a legal matter, it might not get decided until long after the two of you have graduated. What Iâm saying is: donât get your hopes up.â
But, like he said heâd 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.
âCoryâ¦â Scott muttered under his breath.
âWhat was that?â
âCory Walton. I bet her mamaâs behind this. She pretty much told me this would happen. I didnât believe her.â
âYou couldnât have known sheâd take it this far.â
Scottâs shoulders slumped. âWe were so close â¦â
âHey,â I said, nudging him. âYouâre talking like itâs over. Sweetie, this was just the first battle. Iâm not about to quit the war. And neither are you. Right?â
For a second, I thought he was gonna throw in the towel. His eyes got all dark, and he couldnât stop staring at the floor. Then, somewhere down the hall, we heard somebody say, âHey, watch it, Jones! You faggot!â People laughed. To them, it was just another insult.
But it wasnât. Suddenly, it was like somebody lit a fire under him. Scott lifted his head and stuck out his jaw.
âFor Jamie?â he asked, holding out his arm.
I hooked my elbow with his and looked him square in the eye.
âFor
everyone.
â
Gabriel Goodman is a writer living in St. Paul, Minnesota.
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 couldnât take his eyes off the petition. Weâd worked so hard on it. Now it was all for nothing.
âMr. Winston,â Scott said quietly, âcould you keep that on file? Just in case the school board changes its mind.â
Winston grimaced. âI can do that, Mr. King. But these things donât resolve themselves overnight. Iâm sure it wonât be long before lawyers are involvedâ¦â He snuck a furtive glance my way. âAnd once this becomes a legal matter, it might not get decided until long after the two of you have graduated. What Iâm saying is: donât get your hopes up.â
But, like he said heâd 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.
âCoryâ¦â Scott muttered under his breath.
âWhat was that?â
âCory Walton. I bet her mamaâs behind this. She pretty much told me this would happen. I didnât believe her.â
âYou couldnât have known sheâd take it this far.â
Scottâs shoulders slumped. âWe were so close â¦â
âHey,â I said, nudging him. âYouâre talking like itâs over. Sweetie, this was just the first battle. Iâm not about to quit the war. And neither are you. Right?â
For a second, I thought he was gonna throw in the towel. His eyes got all dark, and he couldnât stop staring at the floor. Then, somewhere down the hall, we heard somebody say, âHey, watch it, Jones! You faggot!â People laughed. To them, it was just another insult.
But it wasnât. Suddenly, it was like somebody lit a fire under him. Scott lifted his head and stuck out his jaw.
âFor Jamie?â he asked, holding out his arm.
I hooked my elbow with his and looked him square in the eye.
âFor
everyone.
â
Gabriel Goodman is a writer living in St. Paul, Minnesota.
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