Mr. Cartwright gives me a cheesy thumbs-up.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I think you’d be perfect for this.”
“I don’t want to take over if someone else wants to do it.”
“You should do it, bro,” Braden says, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re like, a genius wizard with tech stuff.”
I’m definitely neither of those things. But maybe I can help. I like being helpful.
Besides. AMario Karttournament sounds fun.
***
After, I help Nadine rearrange the chairs in the choir room, while Bowie and Mr. Cartwright are caught up talking.
Nadine’s a sophomore, and she’s a Lebanese American lesbian. The first time I met her I thought she was joking for alliteration, but nope. She’s got copper skin and a large nose and the brightest laugh of anyone I’ve ever met, and she laughs often. I’m not sure why we haven’t hung out more—except she’s never had any interest in Theatre. But she’s cool, and she’s Lebanese, so I’ve always felt a sort of Middle Eastern kinship with her.
“Thanks,” she says as I move another stack of chairs back into place. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too.”
When we’re done, she wipes her hands against each other, even though the chairs weren’t that dirty, and pulls her phone out. “Can I have your email? I can send you what we have about theMario Karttournament.”
“Sure.”
I wave bye and wait for Bowie to escape what seems to be a rather long-winded story from Mr. Cartwright about the internal politics of the Heartland Men’s Chorus. Eventually Bowie puts up their hands.
“Sorry, Mr. Cartwright, I’m supposed to give Jackson a ride.”
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize.” He turns to smile at me. “Great having you here, Jackson.”
“Thanks.”
We head up toward Bowie’s locker.
“So. Your first GSA meeting.”
“I guess.”
“Who knew all it would take was a bad breakup?”
I snort. “Wow.”
“Seriously. I’m glad. I worry about you sometimes.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I don’t know. You don’t have much queer community. Or deaf community, for that matter.” Bowie frowns. “Or even other Iranians.”
“I’m fine. I have... had Theatre.”
“I know.” They purse their lips. “Sometimes it’s like you get so caught up in what you do, you forget it’s okay to celebrate who you are.”
“Huh.”
I don’t think that’s right. But maybe.
