Matt took deep breaths, recentering, tamping down his panic. Colton might have gaydar, but he couldn’t read minds.
Huebsch prayed, hogging God’s spotlight, talking to Him as if God were taking orders at a drive-thru window, meant only to confirm whether Huebsch wanted to supersize his order. That ship had already sailed.
As soon as the prayer ended, Huebsch picked up a stack of plastic folders and began passing them out to the thirty-odd people in the audience.
Colton explained that each folder contained a copy of the SGA Constitution, a primer onRobert’s Rules of Order, and that evening’s agenda. He launched straight into the agenda, first item being officer’s reports.
Molly nudged Matt’s side, whispered. “Keep your eye on those two, Screech. They’ve got their magic act perfected, including the ‘misdirection.’ While you’re watching one, the other one hides the ball.”
“Which two?” Matt asked.
“Lord Langley and his toady Huebsch. I was in SGA last year when Langley was vice president and the toady was a freshman. Rumor has it they run the College Republicans club the same way.”
Meanwhile, Brent the treasurer reviewed the accounts. To the penny. In a monotone.
Matt listened absently, flipping through his little binder with its photocopies of photocopies thrice removed. Gray ghost words against splotchy gray backgrounds. A chart detailing various parliamentary motions, which might as well have been written in Swahili. This was nothing compared to the GM rules which Matt had finally read. Those were typed neatly, separated by tabs, organized alphabetically, and addressed everything, including:
Safe Sex: Mandatory testing every eight weeks at a freeclinic, address provided. Results disclosed to William. Condoms required for hookups with non-members, optional within the group.
Security. There was a rotating schedule of security details to provide cover for any members who were on a date with prospective members, during meetings, or during member interviews.
Matt had already known that Harley had been on security detail during his interview. What he hadn’t known until he read the rules was what that security detail involved. Harley had bustled around Oklahoma City using the other members’ credit cards to buy gas, movie tickets, or cheap meals, for all of which he had saved receipts. If Matt’s interview had gone awry, if he had later had gay guilt and reported the incident to the dean, all the members would have had ironclad alibis that put them elsewhere, no two at the same place. The hotel room had been booked and paid for by the alumni association. The whole scheme was nothing short of brilliant and worthy of a GM.
Huebsch devoted his officer’s report to a quick summary ofRobert’s Rules, a system, he explained, meant to ensure orderliness and curb the majority from railroading their agenda.
Then back to Colton who announced he’d just thought of a way to introduce new members to parliamentary procedure. He asked Huebsch if he happened to have copies of that practice resolution they’d drafted.
Molly nudged Matt again. She had sharp elbows. “Heads up, jock boy. Eyes on the ball.”
Huebsch made a show of rifling through a stack of papers, shaking his head theatrically as he neared the bottom and hadn’t found the desired document. Then, VOILA, there it was! There they were—plural, enough copies for everyone. Praise the Lord.
Colton talked while Huebsch handed out the copies. “Okay people, this is a rough version of what we sometimes deal with. It’s called a resolution because it states the opinion, or recommendation, of SGA. Don’t let the format spook you. This is a formal style used by legislatures.”
Matt took his copy and started reading.
“WHEREAS Romans 1 tells us that when humans gave up the truth of God and exchanged it for a lie, the consequence was ‘vile affections’ where the men ‘burned in their lust one towards another, men with men working that which is unseemly;’ and
WHEREAS Romans 12 instructs us to “abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good;” and
WHEREAS Dean Smith recently confronted a homosexual student whorefused to repent of his sin, leaving the administration no choice but to remove said student,
THEREFORE, be it resolved by the Student Government Association (SGA) of Midwest Christian University that Dean Smith and the college administration be commended for their diligence to the commands of scripture and for protecting the student body from an ABOMINABLE stain.”
Matt stared at the words in front of him. Reread them. Colton Langley wasn’t content with having instigated Adam Maxwell’s removal from school. Wasn’t bothered that his actions had led to Adam’s nearly dying by suicide. Wasn’t satisfied even after Gay Chapel, where Adam had been specifically named and shamed in abstentia, where Colton had been called onto the stage and praised for his role in ridding the campus of a fag.
Nope. Colton wanted an official record, a trophy he could frame, recording for all time that SGA approved of the whole affair.
Matt looked up and met Colton’s gaze. There was that smile again, that predatory “I know what you are” stare. Colton might not be able to read minds, but no one in the GM doubted his gaydar.
Colton banged his gavel. It was showtime.
Huebsch’s hand shot up. He didn’t wait to be acknowledged. “I move ‘previous question.’”
Colton explained to the newbies that ‘previous question’ was a motion to end debate and move straight to a vote on the resolution. They should read their photocopied guide if they wanted more details. Meanwhile, was there a second to the motion?
“Second,” someone said.
Matt looked around, utterly lost. He could track a triple play in a baseball game. Could predict football plays based on subtle shifts in the player’s hips. Could follow a soccer ball as it was dribbled and passed, intercepted, zipping back and forth. The closest he’d experienced to this mayhem had been a used car auction he’d attended with a friend who had been certain he could snap up a good deal. They’d left after thirty minutes, rattled by the auctioneer’s machine gun style, overwhelmed by the pace of the whole thing.
