Page 27 of How to Be Remy Cameron

“You’re sweating.” I turn to Mr. Riley. He’s leaning against the white board where smudged blue dry-erase marker lists all kinds of biology terms I certainly don’t miss from last year. He has these animated brown eyes. They make you grin and blush and want to throw up. Mr. Riley is crush-worthy. Students from every grade whisper about him in the halls. He’s young, and quite possibly single. I can sum up the dreaminess in one feature: the dimples.

Dragging the sleeve of my hoodie across my brow, I say, “AP Lit,” as though it’s an explanation.

Mr. Riley nods, eyebrows considerably raised. He gets it. Ms. Amos may be a great teacher, but she’s notorious too.

“Did I miss anything?”

Mr. Riley shrugs. “Social awkwardness and my killer stand-up routine.”

“So, nothing.” I say, deadpan.

“Funny,” says Mr. Riley. “We could take our show on the road.”

“Are you the warm-up act?”

“Does your mom write your material, Mr. Cameron?”

“Ouch. Savage, Mr. Riley.” I chuckle. Suddenly, everything that was weighing me down from AP Lit fades. My shoulders are lighter, and my breaths deep and steady.

Mr. Riley always lets me lead our meetings. He takes the role as faculty advisor seriously, but he understands no real conversations will happen if he’s the one doing all the talking. I go through the usual introductions, agenda, the club’s purpose—all the presidential stuff. I’m not on auto-pilot, but most of this is formality.

It’s not exactly a packed room. Majority of the members have been around as long as I have. Slouching, with easy expressions, they nod along—except Rebecca. In her wrinkled “Queer Is Cool” T-Shirt, she pays more attention to the donuts than to me.

Two new freshman faces watch everything with nervous stares and twitchy mouths. Their hearts are practically visible through their shirts. I offer a relaxed smile and make perfect, genuine eye contact until their shoulders unwind.

I love that one of the seniors brings up ideas for Atlanta Pride, which is later this month. One of the sophomores rehashes a conversation about her favorite lesbian character being killed off in the latest CW teen drama. We always get a little loud over that.

Here’s the thing, TV producers: Stop killing off the LGBTQ characters. That handsome, perfect-haired male lead who spends half the series hooking up with whatever beautiful girl is available can die, too, or his annoying, bro-friend sidekick. The queer character doesn’t have to be the sad storyline. We don’t exist to give your bland main character purpose.

Our small group is awesome. It crosses my mind that one day this club might not be necessary. One day, we queer teens will feel at home amongst our peers. We won’t need somewhere to unload about coming out or sexuality or negative reactions from family and friends, because being queer won’t mean being different. We’ll just be teens. Nothing else.

“Now,” says Mr. Riley, standing next to me, one hand on my shoulder, “we have a special announcement from Sara Awad.”

Sara and her homecoming minions appear out of nowhere. They invade the club’s circle. Sara doesn’t acknowledge me. That’s cool. I step back, trying to become invisible, and watch.

“Thank you, Mr. Riley.” Sara is polished grins and excitement and careful wording. Her speech is practically flawless. But beneath the after-school special presentation, is a hint uneasiness in her posture. The corners of her mouth twitch a bit too much. It’s as if Sara’s trying not to expose herself to a crowd shewantsto know but, for whatever reason,can’t.

Mr. Riley once said, “It’s your job to be supportive of those whowantyour support. Not those wholook likethey need it. Assumption is dangerous. You could alienate a potential ally with it.” He’s right.

The other homecoming committee members are tense. As if the wrong breeze could blow and they’d no longer be straight. It’s so stupid. We’re the Gay-StraightAlliance. There are actual heterosexuals in this club. There’s Tony Gibb, whose younger cousin is bisexual. Lacy and Macy, inseparable best friends, are obsessed with yaoi graphic novels and shipping boyband members. Ross shows up for the free snacks. And Paige is a school-social-club junkie.

Sara continues to ramble: “And think of the doors it will open if one of you runs for…”

I can’t believe this. She’s pitching homecoming court ideas to the club with an honest-to-god PowerPoint presentation. I zone out.

The science wing is on the second floor. From the windows, I have a sweet view of the football team’s practice field. Chloe is easy to pick out. She’s the only player with a ponytail and a killer undercut. Also, she has the best arm. She tosses bullet after bullet at players: long and short distances, never missing. Upfield, Jayden practices with the cheer squad. Everything about him is perfect: his movements, smiles, and enthusiasm. His hair is sprayed, gelled, and deep brown.

Sara’s still talking.Homecoming, yay!It’s quite easily the most boring five minutes of my day, which is really saying something, since I regularly doze off during world history.

Outside, Jayden nails a double back-handspring. He’d make a great GSA co-president. Though he’s never had an official boyfriend, Jayden is openly bisexual. Before he and Chloe quit starring in their dramatic rendition ofWe’re Friends Who Kiss at Parties, Jayden got a lot of attention from guys at other schools. He’s never shied away from it. He’s not an attention-seeker, but I’ve seen the consuming blush that spreads across his face when the right guy sizes him up. But Jayden’s more than Chloe and ogling guys. He’s a proud cheerleader. He’s louder and prouder about his two moms. He’s never attended a GSA meeting, though.

“It’s not me,” he once said. “Also, the LGBT agenda seems to be geared more toward the L and G while erasing the B and T. Get it?”

I did. It’s easier for the world to see things in black-and-white: lesbian and gay, but not bisexual. Not transgender. Or any other parts of the spectrum. Nothing other than girls who like girls and boys who like boys. I stopped inviting him after the third try.

“Well,” Mr. Riley says, and I flinch back into reality. “That was quite the presentation, right?” He starts a slow clap. Only Rebecca joins him in a total-suck-up move to get closer to donut time.

All the other students are wide-eyed and goldfish-mouthed, including some of Sara’s underlings. A strange silence has sucked the air out of the room.

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