The Alliance Read Free Page A

said,
Troublemaker.
    Olson turned back to the whiteboard to continue explaining the themes in
The Scarlet Letter
. I looked down at the note Ricky passed that made me laugh in the first place.
    NO JOKE. SCOTT KING IZ STARTING A GSA.
    Scott King? The football player? He was a complete and total tool. Oh, sure, he wasn’t your typical dumb jock. He got good grades. But he was such a …
golden boy.
A lily-white, self-centered jerk that all the teachers adored. What did he care about the queer students in school?
    I scribbled on Ricky’s paper. PROBLY SOMETHING FOR HIS COLLEGE RESUME. HE’LL GET BORED N SAY WELL HE TRIED. SOME IVY WILL LET HIM IN JUST FOR TRYING.
    Ricky snatched the paper, read my note, and nodded with a grin.
    When the bell rang, everybody gathered up their stuff. Ricky and I were headed for the door together when Mr. Olson blocked us.
    â€œMiss Mendoza,” he said, folding his arms. “I hope this isn’t going to be a problem
every
class.”
    I wanted to tell him off so bad. Three weeks I sat there and listened to him drone on every day and never once did anything wrong. Except that laugh. One stupid laugh, and now I’m the class scuzzball.
    â€œNo, sir,” I said, thinking how much I’d like to sic my parents on him for singling me out. But I liked to fight my own battles. I was giving Olson this round. But if I kept my nose clean and he kept coming at me, we were going to have a problem.
    Ricky and I slipped into the hall and joined the river of students. “Why does he have it in for you?” Ricky asked.
    â€œBecause I’m not
normal
,” I said, batting my eyes and flouncing like a beauty pageant contestant. “Some people are so threatened by anyone not exactly like them. But I’m playing it cool. I’m not giving him anything to nail me on the rest of the semester. I’ll wet my pants before I ask for a bathroom pass, I’ll hold a sneeze all hour. But he ain’t getting nothing on me.”
    We bumped fists and made our way down to the first floor for Mrs. Carney’s Intro to Film History class. Everywhere we went, people said hi, high-fived us. We were like a power couple, only we weren’t dating. Ricky was single. I didn’t know for sure if he was gay or not. He’d never dated anyone, and he never wanted to talk about it. So I just let him be.
    Mrs. Carney was standing by the door when we strolled in. Unlike Olson, Mrs. Carney was cool. She never played favorites. If you were being a jerk, she called you out, but then she didn’t hold it against you. And where Olson just droned on and on about a book he
clearly
couldn’t care less about, Mrs. Carney loved what she taught.
    â€œGood morning, Ricky, Carmen,” she said just as the bell rang.
    We took our seats in the back corner as Mrs. Carney dimmed the lights. “We’ll continue our unit on Alfred Hitchcock,” she said, turning on the TV at the front of the room, “by watching
Psycho.
”
    â€œRee! Ree! Ree!” Ricky shrieked, doing his best impression of the
Psycho
theme. This chick in front of us jumped. Everybody laughed, including Mrs. Carney. Once the movie started, things got quiet.
    About half an hour in, Ricky leaned over and said, “Is it just me, or does that Norman Bates guy look like an older version of Scott King?”
    I choked back my laugh, having gotten in trouble once already for that. But he was right. Norman Bates wasn’t as buff as Scott King, but they both had those clean-cut, all-American-boy looks. The resemblance was only creepier knowing what Norman Bates does in the movie.
    I still couldn’t believe he was trying to start a GSA.
    â€œBut, you know,” I said to Ricky, “it’s not a bad idea.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe GSA. That Jamie Ballard kid got bullied to death. We need a group here where the queer kids can go to feel safe and supported.”
    â€œSo, why