“Oooop,” Alexander says, raising his perfectly manicured eyebrows. “I’ll see you there.” He points at Forrest and slides away, to wherever “there” is.
Forrest shuts his locker. “What’s up, Co-President?”
“You can just call me Sidney, you know,” I say, rolling my eyes. I wanted to play it cool, but I can’t help it; now that we’re up close and personal, I’m seething again, the memory of Friday’s meeting bubbling up unbidden.
“I like Co-President,” he says. “It fits you. Very official. Businesslike.”
I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, so I ignore it. “I thought we could talk about Queer Alliance today. Get it out of the way for the week.”
“Oh. Um. OK.” He looks around. “Do you want to go somewhere and sit down, or just talk in the hallway again?”
“Hallway is fine,” I say. “Here’s the deal: You got your party, but only because you went behind my back and won the rest of the club over, so I had no choice but to say yes.”
“I didn’t gobehindyour—”
“Yes, you did,” I say, voice rising.
“OK!” he says, holding up his hands. “You’re right. Technically, yes, what I did could be seen that way.” I open my mouth and he speeds through, talking louder. “But I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t even think about it. I just thought it would make things easier.”
“Easier how? Easier for you?”
“Fuck,” he breathes out, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, OK, fine. After we talked, and you were clearly not down, I thought it would help to get a read on how the rest of the club was feeling. And yeah, I hoped they’d see it my way, and they did.”
I nod slowly. So he did talk to me first, at least. Maybe it wasn’t all planned out. But still. “Well, you got what you wanted. And now, I should get something I want.”
He raises his eyebrows. “And fuck the rest of the club, I guess?”
“I—that’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“Just that ...I don’t know, you got your party. But I have ideas too, and I want to bring one to the meeting this week,” I say. “So, when I do, don’t block it.”
He snorts. “You make it sound like we’re in Congress negotiating over a bill.”
“I’m just saying. I meant what I said in my speech. I want to get some real things done this year.”
“All right, fine, I’ll stay out of your way,” he says, holding up his hands, and then smirks.“Thisweek.”
I stare at him silently.
“Kidding,” he says. “Oh my god, you need to get a sense of humor.”
“And you need to get a sense of reading the room,” I snap back.
“I’m going now,” he singsongs. “See you Friday.” He side-steps around me, heading down the hallway, and I stomp inthe other direction. I won, but I’m so irritated I can’t even be happy about it.
A couple people are out sick on Friday, so the Queer Alliance meeting is even smaller than last week. I push down the anxiety movies about that, trying to stay focused as we discuss the remaining pieces for the National Coming Out Day party next week. Forrest pulls together a list of folks who are available to set up in the library that morning, and I volunteer; I’m usually at school early anyway, so why not? And if I’m there, I can head off any potential Forrest-induced disasters.
“And there will be cupcakes,” he says, grinning. “Stef?”
She looks up from the black polish she’s been slowly chipping off her nails. “My aunt runs a bakery. She does all kinds of dietary restrictions, gluten-free, vegan, whatever we need, and she’s donating two dozen, plus a gift card we can raffle off.”
“That’s amazing,” I say.
Forrest shrugs. “Told you we could do it.”
I almost roll my eyes, but I catch myself. Instead, I do my best impression of a smile, but I don’t say anything back. We agreed to keep our issues out of Queer Alliance, not to become besties.
