The Inside of Out (32 page)

She stood, hands pressed against the desk.

“As you know, we've got kind of a big party scheduled for tomorrow.”

Everybody laughed, settled.

“We never would have gotten as far as we have if it weren't for the help of supporters like you.” She meant everyone, I knew, but she was looking at me. “And if we're going to see this through, make it happen, make it what we know it can be, we'll need your help tomorrow too. We've been so
overwhelmed by your support, but as you know, some people in the community are not as—”

The door whined as it inched open.

“Sorry we're late!” said the most beautiful voice in the world. Hannah's eyes danced through the crowd until they found mine.

Natalie trailed behind, fingertips lightly touching Hannah's. Lunch must have gone well. I waved them over. They whispered to each other and slid down to sit against the wall behind me.

Raina motioned to Sophie, who took the stage.

“We do have a few requests,” she said.

“Rules,” Raina corrected.

“Anything anyone shares in this room is private. This hasn't worked out in the past, but we're trusting you now. Please don't violate that trust.”

She had her grandma smile on. No one made a peep.

“Second, this is a supportive environment. If you have negative feelings about the things we talk about, please find a way to express them diplomatically. If we feel like anything is veering into harassment, we'll ask you not to participate anymore. And lastly, we ask that if you're an ally in here, you become an ally out there. If you see anyone being bullied, please speak up, speak out, do what you can to fight back . . .” Sophie flushed bright red. “In a
non-violent
way. Does everyone agree?”

As everyone nodded, Sophie sat and glanced at Sean, who was waiting by the door to dim the lights.

“And with that,” he said, his voice dropping into a sultry hush. “Let's start this meeting by
testing
your
discretion
.”

Girls all over the room giggled with appreciation.

As he rejoined the table, Sophie pulled out her tiny fake candle and clicked it to life.

“I'll start,” she said. “I'm Sophie. I identify as bisexual. So . . . things have been easier for the past few days. The guys who used to bother me have pretty much stopped, which is . . . really good. I'm grateful to my friends for standing up for me. I'm going to do more of it for myself now too.”

She glanced at me so fleetingly that I almost missed it. Before I could shoot her a thumbs-up, the candle had passed to Jack.

“Update time: I told my parents I won't be going to church anymore,” he started, and my next breath sputtered audibly out of me in my excitement. “Not their church, anyway. I said it was important to me to find a congregation I connected with, so I'd be going to the Unity Church's services down the street from now on. I . . .” He sighed. “I didn't tell them why. But they let me try it out and they asked what scripture we talked about and that was it, so I'm hoping it's a good first step. Or only step. I don't know, we'll see. But I like the new church. Reverend Jim and the youth group are all coming to homecoming, so I'll look forward to introducing them.”

It was a small thing—and it was everything. He hadn't been totally honest with his parents. He might never. But he was wearing his cross proudly outside his collar today, as if those two parts of himself could finally coexist. I beamed over the
table at him and he nodded, mouthing a silent “Thank you,” that made me glow from my toes to the tips of my ears. Then his eyes sparked.

“Oh, right, and I'm Jack and hell
yes,
I'm bi!” He lifted the candle in the air like a torch and everybody whooped.
Nice.

As he passed the candle to Kyle, I looked down, trying to keep my eyes from spilling over.

“Um. I'm Kyle? And I'm gay. Or . . .” He glanced at Sophie. “Queer maybe? Is that different from . . . ? I'm still trying to figure out, um, what all the words mean. So. My only real news is that they arrested the guys who jumped me.”

The room erupted in cheers.

“But um . . . I decided not to press charges. I thought really hard about it, and I told my parents the truth.” Kyle glanced at me as if to gauge my reaction. “But in the end, I just wanted to be able to enjoy homecoming. You know, focus on the positive.”

I opened my mouth, full of arguments in the other direction. If it were me, I'd have found out their names and publically shamed them and
then
pressed charges and prepared a fiery speech for the courtroom—

But it
wasn't
me. I wasn't the one who'd been attacked. I wasn't the one who was fourteen years old and coming out of the closet with the whole country watching. I couldn't possibly understand what he was dealing with.

Privilege,
I thought. This was Kyle's decision.

“First of all, I'm
so pumped for homecoming
!” Sean grinned, working the room as he grabbed the candle. “I'm calling it now—
party of the decade
. My only . . .” He slumped into a
sigh. “My only issue at the moment is that I really wish my boyfriend were here.”

The drama girls went “Awwwww,” but Sophie hopped in her chair like it was giving her a series of static shocks. What was her deal?

“He'd love to see what we've managed to accomplish in such a short amount of time. Be a part of it.”

“You must really miss him,” Sophie said in a slightly louder murmur than usual.

“I do,” Sean said. “A lot.”

Sophie's eyes darted to the doorway. Just past the glass, I could see a skinny, floppy-haired silhouette.

“You must
really
miss him,” she said again, marginally louder.

Sean stared at her. “
I do.
Anyway . . .”

The door didn't open, and by now I'd figured out her dastardly, wonderful plan. I stood.

“I think what Sophie's trying to say is that you must
really
miss him!!!” The windows practically rattled.

The door flew open, and in the hallway appeared a charmingly gawky Spanish kid, his eyes widening as they met Sean's.

“Holy shit, you did
not
!” Sean screamed to Sophie.

“Go,” she said, shooing him. “We'll fill you in on the rest—”

But he was already gone, in the hallway, kissing his boyfriend in a stumbling twirl while the rest of us cheered. The drama girl closest to the door swung it quietly shut, sharing a sad smile with the brunette next to her.

When I looked up, Raina had the candle. I expected her
to click it off and start talking business, but her eyes were clouded. She glanced up. At me.

“I'm Raina Moore. I'm not a huge fan of labels, but for today's purposes, let's just say I fill out the
Q
and
L
in QUILTBAG.” Her voice cracked. She coughed to clear it. “When I moved to James Island, I wasn't sure what my place was. And then, after the first GSA went up in flames, I kinda stopped trusting people. I stopped . . .” She drew a breath, turning one of her legal pads end over end. “I stopped trusting that good things could happen. But what's happening in here, and across the street, and everywhere people are cheering us on, is good. I'm grateful for it. And you guys. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.”

“Raina talked!” Jack said. “Woohoo!”

In the haze of camaraderie that swept the room, I hardly noticed that Raina had risen from her seat and handed me the candle. It took a few awkward seconds of everyone in the room staring expectantly for me to blurt, “Oh! No. I'm not—I don't feel qualified to share anything.”

“Come on, Daisy,” Jack said. “We're your friends. Give us
something
.”

His words hit me like a net.

“You're my friends,” I said, glancing back to include Hannah, who was beaming, and her girlfriend, trying desperately not to. “I think that's my big news. You're my best friends. So thank you.”

A warm silence fell. Sophie reached out for the candle. I pulled it back.

“Oh, and I totally have the hots for that reporter, so cross me off the asexual list!”

Raina smacked the table. “I knew it!”

“I hereby apologize to all asexuals I have offended by appropriating that title.”

“The college reporter?” Hannah pulled on my chair to ask. “I have
got
to meet this guy.”

“Is that the—?” Kyle glanced at Sophie. She shushed him.

I'd opened my mouth to ask what he was about to say, when Jack leaned forward.

“Wait, did you introduce yourself?” He glanced around. “We're supposed to introduce ourselves.”

“Oh right.” I waved to all the semi-strangers I'd known most of my life. “I'm Daisy. And . . . I'm not anything.”

Jack snorted. “Straight, Daisy. It's called straight.”

Straight. Duh. It was a sexual orientation. Why had I forgotten it?

My chair seemed to sink. The room seemed to grow.

Because straight was the default. Because it was the perceived “norm,” no need to question it. Because everywhere I turned, I was blinded by privilege.

The room snapped back into proportion.

But it looked ever so slightly different now.

“I'm Daisy and I'm straight,” I said, and everybody clapped, laughing, like I was the one coming out of the closet—except with none of the pressure and fears and irrevocable life-changes that came with it. I winced. I wanted to give each and every one of them a bear hug right now—starting with Raina, who was sitting closest to me.

As if sensing my intentions, her shoulders tightened and she stood just out of reach. “Okay. Now that touchy-feely time is out of the way, let's talk homecoming.”

She gave us the rundown. Vendors were in place, except for a cowardly few that had dropped out in the last week. The mayor of Charleston was coming, along with a couple of senators and other Democrats I didn't care about. The cast of
Triplecross
was confirmed to be holed up at a hotel downtown, dodging paparazzi on their way to local clubs.

That news sent the drama girls into a flurry of whispers. I said a silent prayer that Chase Hernandez wasn't their new collective crush. It was time to move on to straight boys.

The parade was prepped, voting boxes set up for our gender-neutral queen, king, and attendants. The floats were “very colorful,” Sophie said. And the dance was, in Jack's words, “Going to be in
cred
iballs.”

“Except for the band,” I couldn't resist putting in. “Sorry I couldn't deliver on that. What
is
the entertainment?”

“A DJ,” Kyle blurted, just as Jack answered, “A local band.”

“Both, actually,” Raina said. “We got lucky.”

“Cool!” This was awkward. “What's the local band called?”

Everyone stared at Jack. He must have booked them. “The Rhythm Squad.”

Sophie started giggling and I couldn't resist a snicker myself. Not the most auspicious name, but at least we had
somebody
to entertain the masses.

“How many RSVPs so far?” Raina asked Jack, changing the subject. He consulted his handy phone.

“Thirteen hundred and seven.” He glanced up, frowning. “Some of them will be no-shows.”

“I hate to say it, but we'd better hope so. Okay, guys, thanks again for coming. We'll see you all tomorrow—eight a.m. sharp—to set up for homecoming.”

I was following Hannah and Natalie out into the hallway along with the rest of the mostly straight crowd when Raina stopped me. “Daisy, we need to talk. I wasn't sure how to bring this up before, but . . . Cal wants you to become our spokesperson again.”

I had to lean against the doorframe to keep from keeling over. “You have
got
to be kidding me.”

She shrugged.

“Homecoming is tomorrow. Why do we even need a spokesperson?”

Sophie stepped up behind Raina. “If we don't have one tomorrow, the loudest voice the media will hear is Cindy Beck's. So no matter how well it goes, it will seem to the rest of the world like she's won.”

“Okay. Yes. Fine.
But
.” I motioned wildly to myself.

Raina understood. “You're not ideal. But you're what we've got. I mean,
I'll
do it.”

I hopped in celebration.

“I can't guarantee I'll
smile
. Or that I won't assault someone on camera for asking some
asinine
question—” Raina cracked her knuckles, incensed by the very thought of being interviewed.

I turned to Sophie. She did her best to hide behind her braid.

“
Okay . . .”
I clapped. “What about Sean? He's so photogenic. And all that theater training—”

“He's afraid of cameras. They don't even allow them at school performances.” At my aghast expression, Sophie laughed. “I was surprised too!”

It was too tragic to contemplate at the moment. “Umm . . . the guy from
Triplecross
.”

“Not a teenager,” Raina answered, glancing at her cell phone. “Cal says we need a Palmetto student. Listen, he suggested you say you're bisexual.” I gawked at her. Her expression stayed guarded. “And that the way the media handled that kiss was just another example of how they misrepresent sexual identity in the press.”

“I'm done lying, Raina.”

She nodded. “I thought you'd say that.”

“And anyway, you were right. I'm not the right spokesperson. I never was.” I glanced behind me to see Natalie and Hannah laughing along with Jack. As the three of them disappeared down the hall, Natalie's ponytail swung back and forth like a flickering torch. “But I think I know who is.”