He drew a measured breath and hit the backspace key, slowly erasing the s … the e … and the y. In their place he wrote, Can’t. Sorry. He politely added Thanks, like Sal had taught him. And then: Goodbye.
After sending the message, he deleted Roxy from his buddy list. Then he collapsed onto his bed, exhausted—and strangely at peace.
Sixty-Five
AT SCHOOL IN the following days, each time Carlos walked down the hallway, he expected to see the GSA posters once again marked up or torn down. But they weren’t. Apparently, Espie’s idea of messages directed to and for straight people had worked. Or maybe people had simply lost interest.
“The real test,” Carlotta said at lunch, “will be if any new people actually show up.”
In addition to new faces, Carlos wondered about somebody else, but Vicky dampened his hopes. “I tried convincing Sal he should come, but he’s still too mad at us. I told him he’s being a drama queen.”
Carlos nodded, masking his disappointment. But secretly, he still hoped.
The morning of the meeting, he awoke well before his alarm, his arteries pumping with anticipation—and anxiety. Since resurrecting the GSA had been his idea, the group had elected him to lead it.
When the lunch bell rang, he headed directly toward the library; too nervous to grab anything to eat. He paused only to duck into the boys’ rest room. Peering into the scratched-up mirror, he once again took a long, hard look at himself. The image staring back surprised him: neither a hopeless loser nor a phony, made-over stud. He was simply Carlos Amoroso, a pendejo at times, but mostly just a typical teenage boy trying to become a man.
He drew himself up and stepped outside. In the hall he caught up with Espie, who was wearing his jean jacket.
“Hi!” She grinned. “Are you nervous?”
“Um, a little.” His voice quavered.
She took hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze. And to his amazement, it didn’t send him into a breathless, stammering panic. Instead, it reassured him—at least somewhat.
“Hi, vanguards,” Mr. Quiñones greeted them as they entered the library. Carlos didn’t know what he meant, but he was too nervous to ask.
Pulga, Carlotta, Toro, and Vicky were already there, helping to set up refreshments.
“How about if you guys gather chairs into a circle?” Mr. Quñones suggested to Carlos and Espie.
“How many do you think we’ll need?” Espie asked.
“Um, I don’t know,” Carlos replied. “Maybe a dozen?”
While they slid chairs across the carpet, Principal Harris strode in, barking something into his walkie-talkie. He positioned himself like an Army MP, poised to shut the meeting down if anybody mentioned the forbidden word: S-E-X.
The door squeaked open and two girls slunk in, giggling. One of them, wearing a T-shirt with a sequin heart, whispered to Espie, “Is this the you-know-what group?”
“Yeah, hi. Help yourself to some cookies.”
The girls shuffled over to the soft drinks and snacks, looking ready to sneak out if no one else showed up.
“Do you want a cookie?” Espie asked Carlos.
“Um, no thanks.” His stomach was still too much a knot.
Another two girls strode in. They were followed by a girl with a jocky-looking boy who mumbled hi to Toro. Two more boys wandered in and nervously veered toward the refreshments. One of them accidentally spilled a Coke, but Mr. Quiñones calmly cleaned it up.
Every time the door squeaked open, Carlos glanced over, hoping it might be Sal. Each time, he was disappointed.
Meanwhile, Pulga and Carlotta pulled more chairs over, widening the circle. Six more students came in. Carlos wiped the sweat from his forehead. Although he was glad that new faces were showing up, he’d never imagined having to speak in front of so many people.
Toro and Vicky scrambled for more chairs, while the new guys pulled tables back to make more room for the growing circle. Soon there were twenty students, then thirty. With each new addition, people seemed to grow more at ease—whereas Carlos was starting to panic.
Espie must’ve sensed it, because she patted his arm and whispered, “You’ll do great.”
To his relief, only a few more people came, making the total thirty-three.
“You’d better get started,” Mr. Quiñones said.
Carlos glanced at the clock, his heart sinking. If Sal was coming, wouldn’t he have gotten here by now?
He took a deep breath and called out, “Everyone? ’S’up? We need to start.” He figured the group would ignore him, but, miraculously, everybody turned quiet.
“Um …” He blanked for a minute, his thoughts spinning. But then he looked at Pulga and Toro, their eyes brimming with admiration, while Carlotta, Vicky, and Espie smiled encouragement.
Carlos swallowed hard and continued. “The, um, purpose of this group is to … raise awareness about homophobia and, um, build understanding …”
As he spoke, the door squeaked open again. One last student entered, wearing a bright pink shirt, shiny hoop earrings, and a pair of jeans Carlos recalled once having worn himself.
The boy gazed around, joined the circle, and, for the first time in weeks, smiled forgivingly at Carlos. And with that gesture, all the tension seemed to leave Carlos’s body.
“Whether you’re gay, straight, or bi,” he told the group, “we’re glad you’re here.”
Although he said it to include everyone, most of all he was saying it to Sal.
Glossary of Spanish words not translated in the text
adios:
good-bye
caca:
poop or doo-doo
calma:
calm
gracias:
thank you or thanks
mi amor:
my love
mi’jo:
my son (contraction)
nada:
nothing
numero uno:
number one
¿jpor què?:
why?
pulga:
flea
¿què pasó?:
what happened?
te quiero:
I love you/I care about you
About the Author
Originally from Mexico, Alex Sanchez received his masters in guidance and counseling from Old Dominion University. For many years he worked as a youth and family counselor. He is the author of the teen novels Rainbow Boys, Rainbow High, and Rainbow Road, as well as the Lambda Award-winning middle-grade novel So Hard to Say. When not writing, Alex tours the country talking with teens, librarians, and educators about the importance of teaching tolerance and self-acceptance. He divides his time between Hollywood, Florida, and Bangkok, Thailand. For more information visit www.AlexSanchez.com.
Alex Sanchez, Getting It
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