18
MORGAN
“Is working with Ruby the worst or what?” Lydia asks. She’s walking me to the Pride Club meeting on her way to sports study hall.
“We actually got a lot done,” I say, feeling marginally defensive.
She scoffs. “You mean you got a lot done.”
“No, she helped a lot.”
“Ruby Thompson helped? As in, pulled her weight? As in, actually showed up to the library and didn’t just sit there complaining and waiting for you to find the answers?”
“No,” I say, pausing by the door. I still wish Lydia would come in, but I’m trying really hard to get over the fact that she won’t.
“Really?”
“Really,” I say in a slightly exasperated tone. “We got through most of the packet, and she probably did more than I did. It was actually kind of fun. She was super nice the whole time.”
And that, that sends Lydia’s eyebrows to the sky. “Ruby Thompson is not super nice. Wait, did we slip into another timeline? Is this some butterfly effect thing? Are you feeling okay?” She puts her hand to my forehead. “Hmm, no fever.”
I push her hand down. “Oh my god. No fever, no slipped timelines, seriously. I think you’ve got her all wrong. I even offered to do it on my own, and she was pretty firm about helping.” I lean against the door frame, shifting out of the way when Anika and Aaron walk in together laughing. “I don’t think you know her as well as you think you do.”
Lydia snorts. “I’ve known Ruby since the fourth grade. Maybe she can fake you out for a little while, but—”
“But what?”
“Just be careful, okay? I’d hate for you to get all caught up in her drama.”
Ms. Ming walks past me and into the room then, her presence cutting me off before I can respond.
“Are you sure you won’t come in?” I ask. Lydia shakes her head. “Even if you don’t want to be out, you could still—”
“Don’t,” Lydia says as she walks away. “Have fun at your club. I’ll see you at track.”
I don’t miss the way she says “your club.”
“Yeah, see you at track.”
Brennan kicks the meeting off with the usual things—approving minutes from the last meeting and going over old business, by which I mean designing some new bulletin boards and club posters for the school—and then turns the floor over to Ms. Ming to go over new business.
She hops up onto her desk and claps her hands together. “Okay, it’s time to get serious about our end-of-the-year service project. Thoughts?”
Everyone goes quiet.
“It doesn’t have to be something huge or even fully planned out. Just say whatever you’re thinking, and then we can build from there. I think we’ve had an excellent year overall, but are there any opportunities we missed? Are there any ways we could expand our reach or our focus to help others?”
Aaron clears his throat. “I don’t really know how or what yet, but I would love to do something that addresses the issues that trans kids face. My parents have been super cool about it, but that’s really not everyone’s experience.”
Anika sits up straighter. “And the club could definitely be doing more to address the impact race has on things too. Like the whole centering of whiteness in queer spaces and stuff.”
Ms. Ming nods. “Those are both excellent notes. How can we turn them into a serviceable project? What can we do on our level to add to the conversation and be part of the solution?”
We search one another’s faces like we’ll find the answers there, and that sinking feeling comes back, that utterly helpless not-doing-enough feeling I can never seem to outrun.
“No clue,” Drew moans, breaking the silence and making a few people laugh.
“Okay,” Ms. Ming says, hopping down and writing What is the issue and how can we help? on the whiteboard. “Can our school club solve all of the complicated issues surrounding transness or racial inequality in the queer community during one afternoon? Of course not. So let’s try to break it down into something more manageable instead. Can anyone think of a specific problem related to these topics? Once we identify that, it should be easier to brainstorm solutions.”
Anika taps her fingers on her desk as she considers this. “Homelessness,” she says finally. “It really impacts LGBTQ+ youth in general, but I was reading something the other day that said it hits the trans and queer POC communities the hardest.”
Ms. Ming writes homelessness on the board.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Aaron says. “We have a lot of people drop in at the center looking for resources for that. Kids get kicked out by their parents or run away because they’re scared of their reaction.”
I shift in my seat, thinking about all the books that Izzie said were from various donors, and it hits me. “What if we do, like, a clothing and food drive?”
Ms. Ming looks thoughtful. “And how does that answer the problem of queer youth homelessness?”
“We could ask for donations of food, clothing, toothpaste, gift cards, whatever,” I say. “And then Aaron and I can take them to the center to hand out to teens who come in needing help.”
“That actually sounds really cool,” Anika says. “Maybe we could even get people to donate their old backpacks too. We could make, like, bug-out bags for teens.”
“I’m sure Izzie would love it, and she doesn’t have a program like that going yet,” Aaron adds. “She’d probably let us have a display in the main area for people that just want to come in and grab stuff. Like, even if you don’t want to formally say you need the help, you can have access.”
“Won’t that lead to people just stealing the stuff, then?” Brennan asks.
Aaron shrugs. “If somebody seriously wants to steal toothpaste from a queer community center in our crappy town, then let them. They probably need it. And even if they don’t, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Could we put up donation bins in the cafeteria?” Anika asks.
Ms. Ming nods. “I think the school would be amenable to that. And I can also reach out to Mrs. Hall to get some of her National Honor Society kids to pitch in if we need help sorting stuff. They’re always scrambling for extra volunteer hours this time of the year. What do you say? Should we vote on it?”
“Hell yeah,” Drew says. And I grin because this finally feels like making a difference.
“All in favor?” Mrs. Ming asks.
Every single kid raises their hand.