It had only been a few weeks since she spoke to a crowd of hundreds at her father’s memorial service, and yet as her turn came closer, she could feel her hands trembling. She sat on them to keep herself from fidgeting, planning out her words and practicing them in her head. It was ridiculous to be this nervous. No one had even looked surprised when she entered the classroom before the meeting. Why would they? In the two weeks since spring break had ended, more than one of her friends had reported that Josh and Justin were both telling anyone who would listen—in person, online, anywhere, really—that she was a lesbian, although that wasn’t the term they preferred.
Yet despite all the rumors, somehow attending this meeting felt like a dangerous act. Which, again, was silly. She’d spent a week flirting shamelessly with Tori and another week actually sharing a bed with Jamie. Still, hanging out in private with self-avowed lesbians—and even kissing one—wasn’t the same as publicly declaring your otherness. Dani had offered to come to the meeting with her for moral support, but she’d insisted she wanted to do this on her own, at least the first time. What the hell had she been thinking?
When it was her turn, she cleared her throat and said, “I’m Emma. I’ve actually wanted to check out a meeting for a while. My preferred pronouns are she and hers, um, I can name all fifty states in alphabetical order, and I-I don’t really label myself.”
“Welcome, Emma,” the group responded, many smiling in her direction, and she nodded back.
A girl she recognized from the volleyball team went last, and then Mr. Eckhart turned the meeting over to the student leader, Ricky Gonzalez, who she was pretty sure she remembered from middle school as a girl with long hair but who now had next to no hair, a pierced eyebrow, and preferred male gender pronouns.
Ricky went over the agenda. First was reading the club’s mission, which basically stated that their club had three main purposes: (1) to create a fun and safe space for LGBTQ students and their allies to socialize; (2) to provide a safe space for LGBTQ students to address feelings and issues they faced on a day-to-day basis both at school and at home; and (3) to create a safer and more accepting school for LGBTQ students by educating teachers, administrators, fellow students, and others, changing school policies, and working to stop harassment and discrimination.
That was all. Was it even possible for a group this size to effect such change? There were more people on the soccer team than in this room. And yet, she had to admit that GSA events—National Coming Out day in the fall, the GLSEN Day of Silence in the spring, and the monthly Queer Movie Night—were well publicized and well regarded by the rest of the school, for the most part. Apparently they were doing something right.
With the mission out of the way, they broke up into small discussion groups to talk about home life and any other relevant issues. This meant that Emma mainly listened to three kids she didn’t know chat about people and places they obviously knew well. They were friendly, but blabbing to strangers wasn’t her thing. Hell, she wasn’t even that good at talking to people she cared about. Except maybe Jamie.
Once they’d rejoined the larger group again, Ricky made some announcements about the upcoming Day of Silence, the next movie night, and the annual queer prom in June on Capitol Hill. There were brief discussions on each of these topics before Ricky opened the floor.
Ashley, the girl Emma recognized from the volleyball team, raised her hand. “I was planning to bring up a bullying situation, but the person it impacts is here, so now I’m not sure if it’s appropriate or not.”
All eyes shifted to Emma, and she sat up straighter at her desk. This was definitely not how she’d seen her first GSA meeting going.
Mr. Eckhart frowned. “Does it affect other people in the school?”
Ashley nodded. “Not directly, but I think so.”
Ricky spoke up. “Ash, I’m not sure talking about it in front of the entire group creates the safe space we’re aiming for. Maybe you and I can meet afterward to brainstorm another approach.”
“Is this about me?” Emma asked, her voice steadier than she expected.
Ashley nodded again. “I’m sorry, but it’s starting to get out of hand.”
Emma felt her face flush, and suddenly she wished she had never come. Who was she kidding? She didn’t belong here. She stood up, slipping her purse strap over her shoulder. “It’s fine. I can go.”
“Wait, Emma, please,” Ricky said. “If you’re being bullied, we can do something about it. You wouldn’t exactly be the first person in this room to be a target. Am I right, guys?”
Emma stopped, glancing around at the nodding, mostly supportive faces turned her way. Of course she wasn’t the first person there to be harassed. Ricky was trans; Ashley and her girlfriend, a volleyball player who had already graduated, had gone to prom together the previous year; and other LGBTQ students openly wore their gender fluidity and homo- or bisexuality like armor as they navigated classes, hallways, and playing fields. Like Jamie, they were far braver than she had ever had to be.
“Okay,” she said, and sat back down. “I’ll stay.”
“Good.” Ricky smiled at her encouragingly. “Do you feel comfortable talking about what’s going on, or would you rather Ashley go first?”
His calm, competent demeanor reminded her of Jamie. Maybe once you’d found your way to accepting yourself for being so profoundly different from the masses, it took more than name-calling to upset you.
“I can talk about it. I assume this is about my ex-boyfriend calling me a dyke?” she asked Ashley, stumbling only slightly over the epithet.
“Among other things. My little brother is on the soccer team, and he told me that there’s a group of guys who are spreading some nasty rumors about you.”
“What kind of rumors?” Emma’s stomach churned, and all at once she wished she hadn’t snarfed down that granola bar right before the meeting.
“I guess Justin told everyone that you begged him to take you back after spring break once your ‘experiment’ was over. Stuff like that.”
Stuff like that—she could imagine the details of that particular fiction. God, why had she ever let him talk her into dating him? His “persistence” should have been a red flag; a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer was probably not someone you should go out with. But they’d grown up in each other’s periphery, and he’d played the sweet, hot guy role almost perfectly—until he hadn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Ashley repeated. “I thought someone should do something, you know? He shouldn’t be able to get away with it.”
Emma nodded at her. “It’s fine. I get it.”
“Does anyone else have information to share about this situation?” Mr. Eckhart asked, but the room stayed quiet. “All right, then. Emma, Ashley, and Ricky, why don’t we stay after and talk about this more in depth. In the meantime, let’s open the floor back up.”
A boy she recognized as the head of the debate club raised his hand. “I won my gay marriage arguments at our meet last weekend.”
The group clapped and whistled appreciatively, and Emma could almost feel the relief in the room as the mood shifted. She joined in the applause, trying to tamp down the queasiness Ashley’s revelation had caused. How did Jamie do this day in and day out? Maybe being out in an urban high school near San Francisco, queer capital of the entire freaking world, was easier than trying to do it in the Seattle suburbs. What would UNC be like? Was it even worth the fight? Dating guys was simpler in some ways, but if she let Justin and his buddies bully her back into the closet—assuming she had ever left it—wouldn’t she be letting them win?
She remembered how Justin had called Jamie a freak, how he had actually put his hands on her. Emma had tried to intervene but she had been powerless to stop him. And now here she was, tacitly letting him get away with bullying not only her but Jamie, too. She hadn’t told her mom or anyone else what he’d done because of the unwritten jock code: Athletes don’t rat out other athletes. If Ashley hadn’t brought it up, Emma
probably would have continued to stay silent, especially with graduation so close.
When the meeting adjourned, she and Ashley stayed behind to meet with Ricky and Mr. Eckhart. As it turned out, there was a system in place to deal with issues of this nature, one that Mr. Eckhart said had been used successfully in the school’s recent past. If Justin had done what Ashley’s brother said he had, then he would have to apologize, at the least.
“There’s something else,” Emma said. And then she told them about Justin’s comments about Jamie’s gender identity, about the way he had shoved her up against the pillar and would likely have done more given the chance.
“I’m sorry you and your friend had to go through that,” the teacher said, shaking his head. “Were there other witnesses?”
Emma nodded.
“That’s helpful. The incident might not have happened on school grounds, but you and Justin are both members of the campus community.” He reached into the folder on his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This outlines your options, Emma. Are you able to speak with your parents—sorry, you said you lost your father. Is your mother supportive?”
“She is, but I’d rather not bother her with this.” She paused. “I don’t have to pursue it if I don’t want to, right?”
“Technically, no. But I wouldn’t advise letting it go. Things like this contribute to a hostile environment for other LGBTQ students. You may be graduating, but most of the GSA members are coming back next year. Students like Justin need to know there are consequences for their behavior.”
“Exactly,” Ashley said. “We have to stand up to the bullies if we ever want it to change.”
Beside her, Ricky nodded. “I know it may not seem like it, Emma, but this isn’t only about you and your girlfriend. It’s about everyone in the GSA and all the kids out there who might not ever feel comfortable joining this group.”
“Jamie’s not—” she started. But then she realized it didn’t matter how she defined their relationship. Justin had gone after them because he sensed they were more than friends, label or no label. “Can I have the weekend to think about it?”
“Of course,” Mr. Eckhart said. “Stop by on Monday and we’ll figure everything out.”
Ashley walked out with her. As they headed for an exit at the back of the building, she touched Emma’s shoulder. “Are you all right? I know that was a lot for your first meeting.”
“No kidding. But yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Do you think he’ll retaliate?”
She pictured Justin. He had seemed so great in the beginning, smart and funny and nice even to her little brother, though Ty had told her after the first time he came over that he thought Justin seemed fake. She had attributed the comment to Ty’s low-key skater vibe bumping up against the more assertive, preppy soccer player energy that Justin emanated. Now, though, she realized her brother had pegged her would-be boyfriend accurately on the first try.
What was he going to say when he heard about all of this? What would her mother say? Not like they didn’t already have enough to deal with.
“Emma?” Ashley prodded.
“Oh, sorry.” She shook her head as they neared the student parking lot. “I don’t know if he’ll retaliate or not. I didn’t expect him to do any of this.”
“People can definitely surprise you. And not always in a good way.”
When they reached Emma’s car, they discovered Dani perched on a folding chair Emma knew came from her parents’ stash of soccer mom accessories.
“How’s it going, Ashley?” Dani asked.
“Not bad. But it would be better if Justin Tate weren’t such an asshole.”
“Sounds about right.”
Dani waited until Ashley had said goodbye and walked off to her own car to ask, “How did it go? Did you actually talk about you and Jamie?”
“God, no.”
Dani rolled her eyes as she stowed the camp chair in the back of her Subaru. “That’s right, the Ice Princess doesn’t share. How did Ashley know about Justin, then?”
“Her little brother plays soccer. And don’t call me that.”
“Sure thing, Princess. Are you doing the family thing for dinner tonight?”
“Nope. Ty’s at Benji’s again and my mom’s picking up another double.” As Dani’s eyebrows rose, Emma added, “I mean, it’s not like she ever sleeps anyway.”
“Which, to be honest, is a decent argument for not pulling another double. Sushi?”
“Heck yeah. I can always do sushi.”
An hour later, over dinner at the same restaurant where they’d celebrated her birthday—ah, fall, before her father died and Justin turned into an asshole and Emma basically accosted Jamie—she relayed what had happened at the GSA meeting.
“Jesus,” Dani said when she’d finished. “What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Any thoughts?”
“If it were me, I would go after him.” Her tone was decisive. “I would totally make him pay. What’s the downside? We graduate soon, and then you never have to see the phony bastard again.”
“One could only hope.” She popped a few edamame beans out of their pod and into her mouth. “I don’t know, though. Would it be too much for my mom? And Ty starts at Shorecrest next year. Is he going to get shit for being my little brother if I rat Justin out?”
Dani paused. “I hadn’t actually thought of that.”
“He would, wouldn’t he?”
“Maybe. You know who you should talk to about all of this?” Dani wiggled her eyebrows.
“Who?” Emma tried to stare her down.
“You haven’t called her yet, have you?”
“No.” She and Jamie had texted or emailed nearly every day since spring break, but they hadn’t spoken on the phone even once. Emma knew the ball was in her court mainly because she had received an email from Jamie that indicated as much.
“Em, you can’t freeze her out the way you did Josh and Justin. She doesn’t deserve it.”
“I’m not freezing her out. I’m just, you know, taking a little space.”
“You’re the one who freaked out on her. Isn’t she the one entitled to take space?”
Emma hadn’t given Dani all of the details of her near split and tentative reconciliation with Jamie. For example, her best friend didn’t know that Jamie was the one who had said they couldn’t be together.
“Whatever. Can we change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my big, fat, gay life.”
“I thought you didn’t do labels?”
“Bite me.”
“Kinky. But no thanks.”
Emma threw an edamame shell at her, trying not to laugh. God, she loved Dani. But not in a gay way; in the way you loved your best friend since kindergarten who, though she didn’t understand why or how you could be attracted to both sexes, accepted who you were because she loved you, too. Though not in a gay way, either.
After dinner they went to the indoor mall on Sixth Avenue, where they rode escalators and traipsed in and out of their favorite shops. On a whim they decided to see what movies were playing, and ended up going to see Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed even though “the first one was sooo bad!” The sequel was equally as atrocious, but they made the most of the nearly empty theater by keeping up a running commentary. On the way home, they stopped for ice cream on Capitol Hill and people-watched from a table near the window at Ben and Jerry’s. Emma tried not to remember that the last time she’d been there had been with Jamie, the day before she kissed her and ruined everything.
“You’re not going home by yourself tonight, are you?” Dani asked as they reached the ends of their cones.
She shrugged, picturing her house all dark and empty except for the dog.
“Come stay over,” Dani said. “We never got to have that sleepover.”
Because her dad had gone and died and Jamie had come to the rescue. Why did everything seem to come back to her?
“Okay. Let me text my mom
.”
And that was how a couple of hours later she ended up lying awake in Dani’s bed while the other girl snored away, Lucy curled up on her dog pillow beside the bed. This room, with its cream walls and Pottery Barn furniture, was almost as familiar to her as her own. Strange to think that soon they would be in entirely different places. Dani had opted for the SoCal urban experience at UCLA, while she was headed to the unknown—the Southeast, where pickup trucks with Confederate flags adorning their hoods weren’t all that unusual. Soccer had taken her to Texas and Florida fairly often, but during her visit last year, North Carolina had felt more foreign than Canada ever had. Fortunately, Chapel Hill was a university town. Like Atlanta, it was a liberal outpost in a conservative region. Or, as one of her future teammates had joked, “A progressive island floating in a sea of rednecks.”
She’d shared that gem with her dad in the car on the way home from Sea-Tac after her visit, and he’d agreed whole-heartedly. He had spent time over the years in and around the “Research Triangle,” as the Raleigh-Durham-Cary region was known, demonstrating his technique at area hospitals.
“You’re going to love it there,” he’d assured her as they drove toward home. “With Duke, UNC, and NC State all within a short distance of each other, there’s always something going on. Just think about March Madness! I’ll have to come out to see UNC versus Duke.”
“And to see me play, of course,” she’d said pointedly.
“Of course.” He’d frowned. “That goes without saying, Emma.”
With him so much had gone without saying, and now it was too late to ask. She hadn’t known he worried about not seeing her grow up. When her mother said he was afraid of flying, she had assumed that meant he was scared of his own mortality. But at the memorial service Mike had said he wasn’t afraid to die. He was afraid of missing his children’s futures.
Jamie had reached for her hand at that point in the service, she remembered now, and she had moved out of reach. God, she’d been so selfish. She’d used Jamie to make herself feel better, pulling her close when she needed her and pushing her away when she didn’t. And through it all, Jamie had been there for her, holding her hand when she let her and melting into the background at precisely the right moment. Well, the right moment if Emma wanted to stay in the closet, anyway. But after her eulogy, while her mother was up on stage, Emma had needed Jamie more than she’d worried about what everyone else thought. She’d leaned into her and held on tightly then, drawing on the strength that Jamie offered up so easily.
Training Ground Page 23
