Chapter 115: Better

Tuesday, April 26, 1983

The morning announcements again featured all of us, notably including me and my win. I got another round of hugs and more than a few kisses. It’s funny how the girls all knew they could kiss me and not get in trouble with my girlfriend. If it hadn’t been so public that we had an open relationship, I could almost believe that there was plotting going on. For that matter, apparently just giving me a kiss wasn’t expected to upset any number of boyfriends.

We had cake in Drama and Debate. Those of us in both took small pieces. Both classes were mostly celebrations, though we rehearsed some in Drama.

Study group, however, was all business. Trip or not, this was exam week and all of us had several to go. Wouldn’t do to fail one just because we’d had a cool weekend trip. Or two of them back-to-back, either.

I had to remind myself that before we even got to Prom, I had the deposition preparation scheduled. It wouldn’t do to screw that up because of all the excitement.

Thursday, April 28, 1983

Lizzie came over and tapped me on the shoulder during class, then nodded to the practice room. I followed, of course.

We sat across from each other. She leaned in just a little.

“I wanted to pick up a little from our conversation in Lexington,” she said.

“Makes sense,” I said, nodding. “It’s weird thinking we’ve had our last tournament together.”

She smiled. “Yeah, but that’s not really it. I know Janet’s talked to you, and thanked you, but I wanted to, as well.”

“You know no thanks are necessary. Like I told her, it shouldn’t be special to just treat people like they should be treated instead of being an asshole.”

She chuckled a little at that. “Well, yeah, though I’ll disagree there a bit. I think the bigger thing here is ... well...”

She hesitated, then leaned in a little more, locking eyes with me.

“You’re special, Steve,” she said. “Different. Better. The first day you walked into class, I felt like you were different. You didn’t feel like a timid new freshman. You felt like someone who was confident, comfortable in his own skin, and just ... ready. At the time, I wrote it off as that ... you know ... jock thing. Even if you’re not really a jock, it’s just ... some of them have to be the best, or ... they think they’re the best, so that’s what they project.”

I’m sure I was blushing, but I nodded. “I’d done my research and pretty much knew what I was getting into.”

She nodded back, eyes sparkling a bit. “Oh, I know. That was obvious. The thing that wasn’t obvious that first day, but was a month or so later, when Mel Riley showed up, blushing and nervous, tripping over herself apologizing to Janet and me, was that you weren’t an asshole, that way. I’ve met plenty of people who kinda ... don’t understand, or don’t care. I’ve met far too many people who look down on us. I can count on my fingers the number of firmly straight kids whose initial reaction to me was ... well... as nonchalant.”

I could feel the blush getting worse. “Thanks, Lizzie. I just feel like people are people, and you respect them for that, and for who they are, not who they love or anything like that.”

“I know, but you just don’t seem to know how rare that is, at least in my experience. It’s not rare in our little corner of the world now, but it was. Plus, our little corner is a lot bigger than it was. You’re definitely part of that change. I mean ... we’d just had a guy be all warm and welcoming and then talk shit about us behind our back. I felt pretty burned by that, and Janet was worse, as little as you’d have seen it. You turned up at the right time to fix that. I’m pretty sure you wrecked whatever scheme was brewing just by turning up in class when you did, and it was really because of Cammie. You had no reason to suck up to her. I mean, she’s a kick-ass debater, but you didn’t know that. You just treated her like she was cool and ... boom. Spell broken.”

“Cammie’s awesome. I knew Mel was awesome, so how could Cammie not be awesome?”

She nodded. “I get that, now. At first, I figured you’d try to ‘fix’ her, but ... nope. Many points for that. I personally think you could’ve convinced her to give it a shot. It’d have fallen apart, but...”

“I don’t even like thinking about that. That would’ve been horrible for her.”

“And, again, totally not the teenage guy reaction.”

“I wasn’t in a great place to date anyone when we started, and by the time I was, I had a girlfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure Cammie gave you an opening that you didn’t take.”

Her eyebrow made it obvious she spotted the pun there. When I didn’t say something, she went on, saying, “You can’t say anything, I know. I think what I’m saying is, really, that we both feel really lucky that you walked into Debate. Or maybe onto that TEES bus, or ... whatever. It’s made a difference. That, and ... you are different. How and why? I don’t know. I probably will never know. Just luck, or the right sermons from your pastor, who was himself pretty amazing, or your parents, or whatever, but you’re unique. Not that we’re going anywhere for a month, but the time to say things is when you have the chance to say them right.”

I felt like I’d dodged the worst of the looming chasm that’d suddenly opened up, but ... well. In retrospect, it was obvious, and Lizzie and Janet probably weren’t the only people with some questions. I hadn’t exactly been subtle about a few of my ... anachronistic ... views, nor that I was a world-wise mature man in a freshman’s body. Or maybe a world-wise mature freshman would be more accurate?

Whichever ... well ... I had smart friends. While some of them would notice, few would say anything. Lizzie saying something was a blessing, at least since it didn’t seem like she’d push for answers I could never give.

It felt like that conversation with Jane, except that she’d pushed for the answers that Janet had at least said she would forgo.

“Thank you,” I said. “I feel lucky about it, too. Virtually nothing about my life right now would be the same if I hadn’t.”

“It’s almost as if it was fated,” she said, and smiled. “I don’t say this to many guys. Like, one. My dad. But I kinda love you, Steve. You know how I mean that, but I heard Cammie say it and it ... resonated. She meant it the way I mean it, only more because you two are closer. Still, you’ve really made an enormous difference in my life. That, and you managed to do it without acting like the big, strong man who came to my rescue.”

“I’d come to your rescue happily,” I said, “but you haven’t needed that. You two kick plenty of ass.”

“We do, don’t we?” she said, grinning.

“We’ll come visit next summer if we can,” I said.

“The door will always be open,” she said, getting up.

I got up, too. She stepped in and hugged me, then gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

“Oh!” she said, still close. “I forgot to ask! Been practicing your backward dancing?”

“Actually...” I said, “I have. I’ve worked on it off and on in Dance and Movement class. I’m no Ginger Rogers, but I can hold my own.”

“Then you owe me at least one dance, and I fully intend to collect.”

“Can’t wait,” I said.

She giggled. “I think you might be the only guy at Memorial who’d do that, or who could do that and not have half the school asking questions about him.”

“I’m pretty much as straight as you’re not,” I said.

She nodded. “I got that. Charles would’ve gotten to you if you weren’t.”

“If I wasn’t, I’d have let him,” I said.

“Of course!” she said, chuckling. “Thanks. I’m really going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too. And Janet. It won’t be the same.”

“It won’t, but you’ll kick ass next year, and you’ll make sure the kids that are here when you’re gone kick ass, too.”

“I’ll do my level best.”

“Which is very good.”

I hesitated a bit, then decided to ask a question I’d been toying with for weeks. I’d held back because, after all, it was their decision. Even to ask might influence things.

But, now I knew, so...

“Lizzie, I have to ask. I’ve guessed you two might turn up at Prom...”

She chuckled, nodding.

“But it’s never been a sure thing, though the hints were more and more clear.”

“No point in attracting attention.”

“That’s true, but ... well, it goes back to what I said before. I know people who’ll be sympathetic. It’s probably going to be better if they know there’s something to plan for.”

She sat quietly for a bit, thinking it over. “We were thinking to just surprise them and not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Which is fine, but they can be pushy about a ‘no.’ If you weren’t who you are, that might be the only hope. For instance, if things were where they were, say, February 1982.”

She nodded again after a minute. “You’re saying to trust people.”

“I’m saying to trust our friends, and not just the ones in Debate and Drama. You have the entire Student Council behind you. There are a lot of people who’re thrilled when Memorial does well, and you two are going to Nationals for the second year in a row. It goes on from there. I know you know it, but you have to trust that you’re ... popular. That you have a lot more people on your side than you’re used to.”

She blinked at that. “I might dispute popular, but I get it. Fine! I’ll trust your judgment. For Janet and me, we just want to walk in and go for it, but if things happen behind the scenes, I’m fine with that.”

“You know there’s a reasonable chance that this will make the news.”

“Yeah, we know. It’s ... worth it.”

“I agree.” I grinned a bit, then said, “Who’d have ever guessed that Memorial would be ground zero for gay rights?”

“Who indeed? In February 1982, I’d have said that the odds were between none and even less. Yet ... here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“Thanks again, Steve. It’s going to be quite the event.”

“It will.”

We headed back out. Cammie gave me a little grin. So did Angie, and so did Jas. I had a feeling they knew, or at least strongly guessed, what’d just happened, though only Angie might have guessed the more unnerving part of it.

I told Angie, Jas, and Paige about Lizzie mentioning dancing backward (reminding them along the way to keep it very, very quiet), which seemed to satisfy them. They were all looking forward to seeing it. That is, if Lizzie was still at Prom after the very likely fireworks.

I also told them (again making it clear to be very, very quiet) that Janet was good with support. Each of them promised to see what they could do, now that it was clear there would be something to do something about.

Angie, of course, asked about the missing piece when we were on the way home.

“What was that with Lizzie? I mean, I figure saying goodbye, and then the Prom stuff, but...”

“But it was too long for just that.”

“Yeah, that’s how I saw it.”

“Pretty much ... well ... she has enough pieces that she could ask questions like the ones Jane asked. She has no idea about the answers, but she called me — politely, even approvingly — on being too ... mature, or sharp, or polished, whatever ... for a freshman. That and my attitudes just being different. How many kids in 1981 just took it for granted that gay people should be respected and supported? Especially straight kids? Not a whole lot, really. It was a source of constant joking my first go-round.”