Chapter 1 #2
It’s clearly time for someone to take charge. This is a chance for me to show my leadership qualities, so I clear my throat. “Thanks for coming, everyone. Shall we get started?”
“Yes, we shall!” Forrest echoes me. I ignore him.
Mr. Harrison finds an open seat. He’s the theater teacher and our club advisor, and even though I’m not in theater, he’s still one of my favorite teachers.
I know it’s not possible, but it seems like he knows every student at Jefferson High School by name.
He encouraged me to run for secretary last year, so I know he’ll support me being president too.
“Welcome, all.” He surveys us, eyes twinkling behind his gold-rimmed glasses.
“Normally I’m fairly hands-off with this club, but today’s our first meeting, and we’ve got to pick a set of officers for the year.
You can nominate yourself or be nominated by someone else.
But first, let’s introduce ourselves and our pronouns.
I’m Mr. Harrison, he/him.” He looks to his left, at one of the seniors, who takes the cue.
One by one, we go around the circle. My leg bounces up and down as the minutes tick by. We only have the lunch period, and I want this done, both because I want the satisfaction of the presidency and because I don’t want to feel anxious about this anymore.
Finally we wrap up the introductions, and Mr. Harrison gestures to the whiteboard, where he’s already written the titles of the club offices: Treasurer, Secretary, Vice President, and President.
“If you want to nominate someone, step up and write their name under a position,” he says. “Then we’ll take an anonymous vote.”
For a beat, nobody moves, and then Jayden stands and crosses to the board, just like we planned it. Under President, he writes my name in black erasable marker.
Sidney Walker.
“Excellent.” Mr. Harrison beams at me, then looks around. “Don’t everyone jump at once, now.” He sounds so proper with his British accent, and one of the freshmen cracks a smile.
Anna gets up and nominates herself for treasurer, like she was last year.
Riley, a senior, nominates themself for vice president again.
It would have made sense if they wanted to be president after last year’s president graduated, but when I asked them about it on the first day of school, they just laughed and shook their head.
“Noooo, thank you,” they said, clacking their long, lime-green, bejeweled nails in my direction. “Too much responsibility. I like being the second in command.” They grinned at me. “You’ve got my vote.”
We need a new secretary, since I’m not running for it this year, and Stef nominates herself. It’s quiet for a moment as we all take in the slate.
“All right!” Mr. Harrison says, clapping his hands together once. “If that’s it—”
“Hold up.”
We all look over. Forrest heaves himself out of the chair, where he’s been slouched through the proceedings. One of his shoelaces is untied, and I watch it as he scuffs his feet toward the whiteboard, but he doesn’t trip. At the board, he picks up a marker, and writes his name.
Right under mine.
I stare at him as he walks back to his seat. Why the hell is he nominating himself? He’s never held any office in the club before.
When he sits down, he looks at me with a smirk and gives me a little head nod. I turn away, pressing my lips together. This is fine. I’m way more qualified, and everyone knows it. He’s not a threat.
“All right,” Mr. Harrison says again. “If nobody else wants to throw their hat in the ring, we can cast our votes for the president.” Everyone is quiet as he gazes around the room.
“Mr. Harrison,” I say. “Shouldn’t we each say a few words first? Like . . . why we want the position, and why we’re the right person for it?”
“Oh!” He seems a little surprised, but he recovers quickly. “Yes, of course. That’s only fair, since we’ve got all these new faces who don’t know you.” He smiles at the freshmen.
“I’ll go first,” I say, and pull my poster out from under my chair.
“Oh, they came prepared,” Alexander murmurs.
I stand and so does Jayden—another piece of the plan.
He always has my back. I unroll the poster, handing it to him, and he holds it up, rotating slowly so everyone can see.
Black letters on a lavender background announce who I am in my favorite format: a list. But they aren’t just traits.
They’re also reasons why I should be president, bordered by a ring of silver glitter for that extra pop.
“I’m Sidney,” I say, smiling at the freshmen.
“I’ve been a member of Queer Alliance since my first year here, and last year I served as secretary.
In that position, it was my job to take accurate notes that reflected the content of our meetings.
This information was super useful when it came to planning, because it provided us something to refer back to. ”
I describe last year’s Homecoming Court committee, and how I was in charge of drafting communications to the student council for our campaign to add Monarch as a title alongside King and Queen.
“Now when someone is nominated, and when they win, they can pick the title they want. The kids who want to be kings or queens can still do that, but the kids who don’t want that have an option too.
That campaign was an important step in making our school a place that celebrates all its students. ”
Students like me. If I wanted to run for Homecoming Court, which I super don’t. Queer Alliance is my life, my home. Other than that, school is just one long anxious rat maze I have to get through.
The first few weeks at Jefferson, I was a small boat lost in a sea of halls that were so much bigger than my middle school.
The few friends I’d had before were at other high schools, and I didn’t know anyone yet.
Then, on one of my teacher’s doors, I noticed a poster covered in little cartoon rainbows.
“COME OUT to QUEER ALLIANCE this FRIDAY,” said the bubble letters filling the flyer, with a room number and time written underneath.
So I did.
I met Jayden, Anna, and Makayla that day, along with some other freshmen who dropped off the map a few weeks later. But we stayed, and pretty soon we were hanging out at every lunch break, not just Fridays.
I can only assume Forrest joined the club sophomore year because he came out as trans over that summer.
Funny how he saw the point of Queer Alliance once it was personally relevant to him.
A few weeks later, I came out as nonbinary—first to my friends, then to the club.
I was worried people would think I was copying him, or was just doing it to be trendy, but everyone supported me.
I take a deep breath and segue into the home stretch of my speech.
“I love this community, and we’ve done so many important things.
Before I got here, the club helped bring gender-neutral restrooms to the school.
This year, as president, I want to build on our achievements and keep making Jefferson into a place where all queer and trans students can be themselves.
I deserve your vote because, as my poster says, I’m dedicated, I’m organized, I’m reliable, I’m caring, and finally, I make change happen.
” I feel the back of my neck tingle as I hit each bullet point.
Forrest doesn’t have a chance. “Thank you.”
I sit down, to some scattered clapping from the freshmen. Riley wiggles their fingers in silent applause, and Anna squeezes my shoulder.
“Well said.” Mr. Harrison smiles at me. “Forrest?”
All eyes turn to Forrest, slouched in his chair again.
He straightens up, but he doesn’t stand.
“Hey. So, I joined the club last year.” He fidgets with the strings of his hoodie.
“We’ve done some really cool things. When I was figuring stuff out freshman year, I used those gender-neutral restrooms a lot.
I don’t know about y’all, but I like having a place to pee. ”
The freshmen snort, and Riley cracks a smile.
“I think we could do something different this year, though. Something more fun, and less work. We’ve come a long way, so let’s party!
” Forrest grins. “Also, I need something that looks good on my extracurriculars for college.” He sticks out his tongue and flashes a peace sign, and a couple people laugh.
My chest tightens, my shoulders stiffening. This is a joke to him. All the work we’ve done, everything there still is to do, and he wants to party? He sits back, and there’s a long pause, all of us waiting for something more, but he doesn’t say anything.
“All right, then!” Mr. Harrison says. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He moves to the whiteboard, picking up a marker. “I’m going to have you all close your eyes, and when I call out the name of the candidate, you’ll raise your hands if you’d like to vote for that person.”
I close my eyes, my heart pounding. Forrest can’t win.
He can’t. This is supposed to be my moment, where everything comes together, not where everything falls apart.
The club will lose membership, a voice whispers.
It’s going to fail. Mr. Harrison will disband it.
The voice buzzes in my brain like an itch I can’t scratch, morphi ng into images flashing in my head, one of my mental movies trying to play.
That’s not real. It’s not happening, I tell myself.
That’s not real. It’s not happening.
That’s not real. It’s not happening.
I breathe out, my mind clear. The mantra worked.
“If you’d like to vote for Forrest, raise your hand!” Mr. Harrison says.
I keep my hands clasped in my lap. I hear a few rustles. His friends are probably voting for him, but no one else will. They see it too. They have to. He’ll ruin everything.
“And now for Sidney!”
I raise my hand. Beside me, I hear Jayden raise his, and the tightness in my chest eases a little bit.
There’s a long silence, and then Mr. Harrison clears his throat. “You may open your eyes.”
I blink a little as my eyes readjust to the fluorescent lights, and my gaze goes to the board.
“Well,” Mr. Harrison says. “We have eleven votes for Sidney.” He pauses, and I read the number right before he says it. “And eleven votes for Forrest.”
Oh my god.
We tied.