Speechless(94)

                Mr. Fenton, our assistant principal, walks onto the stage and                     takes the microphone. He spends a minute trying to quiet the audience, saying                     things like, “Quiet, please,” and clearing his throat as he paces a few steps                     back and forth.

                Eventually everyone shuts up enough for him to get on with the                     program.

                “Most of you are aware that recently there was a grievous                     incident involving a few of our students, one of whom is currently still                     hospitalized due to an act of violence instigated by a fellow classmate,” he                     says, voice booming out through the room. “Though this did not happen on school                     grounds, we felt it was important to take some time today to address what has                     transpired and reiterate our zero-tolerance policy toward any and all                     harassment, whether it be physical or verbal.”

                Mr. Fenton goes on, something about counselors being available                     for support and unanswered questions, and the evils of discrimination and                     necessity of tolerance, but his words barely register with me. I have this                     dizzy, sinking stomach sensation, like being trapped in an elevator with the                     cables cut loose. Nothing but bottomless falling.

                He says something else, a final word, and walks off, but I know                     that can’t be it, it can’t be over. Just as I’m wondering what’s next, Brendon                     Ryan emerges onto the stage.

                This does nothing to help my stomach.

                Brendon holds the microphone and looks out at the sea of faces                     with a somewhat nervous—though still as dazzling as ever—smile. “Hi. My name is                     Brendon Ryan,” he says, “and Mr. Fenton wanted me to talk to you a little about                     what I’ve been organizing lately. Starting this week, we’ll be forming our own                     Gay/Straight Alliance chapter at Grand Lake. Any student is welcome—whether you                     put the Gay or the Straight into the alliance. Or even if you fall somewhere in                     between.” This garners a few titters from the audience, and Brendon looks down                     and back up with another smile. “Ms. Kline has been kind enough to offer us use                     of her room—A214, it’s on the second floor—Tuesdays after school at                     three-fifteen. It’s really just a place for us to talk, to have open                     conversations about this stuff, you know, answer any questions, so what happened                     to Noah Beckett can be prevented from ever happening again.”