Dear Readers, see the note at the start of chapter 14. Your feedback is inspiring! Makes me feel like there are folks out there who CARE. Or something. Anyway, nice to hear from you, to know there actually are voices in the void.

Chapter 15: Alliances

I actually did believe in the Gay/Straight Alliance, was pleased that something real seemed to be developing for students questioning their sexual identity. That said, I couldn't wait for Grace to arrive at my house Wednesday. I put out some chips in a bowl, and looked in my fridge to see if there was anything else. I saw the wedges of cheese from that silly blind date, barely touched by anyone other than me. I knew the Chabichou would be even better having ripened a few more days. I set out a board with the cheeses, some grapes. No wine, of course.

This time, prudently perhaps, Grace did not arrive early (and I was shaved and dressed long before anyone got there). She came after a few students had already arrived, including, to my surprise, Tad. I hadn't expected him to return, after his sophomoric references to bisexual girls that first meeting.

 Then I figured it was probably another calculated activity for his college application. I think he and Grace were the only two representing the straight part of the Alliance of the dozen or so students who showed up, so his presence was worth something.

We discussed goals for both the group and the dance, thoughts of what might be done beyond the dance. Russell suggested offering dedicated counseling services. There was a buzz in the air – everyone felt good about the funding for the dance coming through, and it gave people a boost. They thanked Grace periodically. People crowded around the table and elected officers and a secretary who immediately started taking minutes. They inhaled the liters of soda and bowl of chips. They were more hesitant to try the cheese, which was unconventional and weird-looking; Grace cut herself a slice.  I went to the kitchen to refill the bowl of chips.

Coming back, I saw Tad leaning close to Grace, returning, apparently, to flirt mode. "No seriously," I heard him say as I reached the table. "You look good in red. That shirt, like, just makes your hair look really good."

"Give me a break, Tad," Grace said, but there was a tone of the flattered in her voice.

"Seriously. Ask anyone here." He looked around the table. "Doesn't that red shirt make Grace look really good?"

People looked up from their various conversations. Russell nodded in agreement. "It's true, Grace. Red is the color for you, babe."

I put the food on the table and sat down, stealing a quick glance at Grace and saw she was looking at me, searching for a reaction? I just smiled noncommittally. Told myself jealousy was not there, any feelings of annoyance I had toward Tad right now were more of a protective nature, didn't want Grace being bothered by such a jerk.

Grace glanced up at me as I sat, then said, "I thought we were planning the dance, not determining the best colors for my personal wardrobe. So. Tad, did you want to work on publicizing the dance?"

"Me?" he said, now the reluctant center of attention.

Russell said, "Yeah, man – if superstud Thaddeus says the Gay/Straight dance is cool, that would be publicity right there. Don't let us down, man. I mean, that is why you're here, right?"

Expectant eyes looked at Tad, who didn't have his usual posse around him. He glanced at Grace, who shot him a challenging look.

"I can do that," he said.

Plans were made, subcommittees formed, meeting adjourned. Most people left, but Tad continued to hover near Grace. I couldn't stand it, wanted to get rid of him, and his youth, and his transcript of college worthy experiences. Compartmentalize, I told myself. I began to clear the food. "Oh wait," Grace said. "What is that cheese, that creamy one?"

"Chabichou ," I answered.

"Guzundheit!" Tad said. Ha, ha.

"Chabichou ," she repeated. "It is so good! It's kind of nutty – sweet – but tangy too."

"Exactly!" I said. "It's a goat cheese – that's the tang. It's one of my favorites, but they don't have it that often here.

She cut herself another slice. "Well,  I like it."

Tad looked from Grace to me. "It's cheese," he said. "What's the big deal?"

"Ah, but it's French cheese, Tad. In France, fromage is a big deal." I cleared the rest of the food onto a tray, but left the cheese. I turned toward the kitchen, carrying the tray. Behind me I heard Tad say, "Grace – how's Jessie? I thought she was coming tonight?"

"That's why you came," she stated.

As I pushed through the kitchen door, I heard him say, "We all have our ulterior motives for being here, Grace."

No more voices for a moment, just the sound of dishes being gathered. Then Grace appeared in the kitchen carrying the cheese plate, followed by Tad carrying the last bottle of Sprite. She put the plate down and said,  "I don't think Jessie's coming any more. She wants to spend the time with her mom. In the hospital. I'm picking her up later. As for ulterior motives, Tad, mine is try to ensure that Sinclair can be a comfortable place for everyone, no matter who they choose to care about." Grace looked around and I opened a cupboard and handed her a box of plastic wrap. She started to wrap the cheese. I started to wash dishes. Tad sat on one of the kitchen chairs.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. I believe in the Gay/Straight Alliance and all that." He stood again and went to the counter near Grace. "But… has Jessie said anything to you? About me?"

"Um, not really." I could tell there were things Grace wasn't saying.

"It feels like she's been avoiding me," Tad continued. He was talking as if I weren't there, or as if it didn't matter that I was, the invisible teacher, the irrelevant advisor. "I thought I might see her tonight. Maybe I could pick her up at the hospital instead of you, give her a ride home?"

I looked over my shoulder at Grace. She had paused in her cleanup. I could tell she was tempted. I was tempted. But also, not a great idea.

"I don't think so," Grace said. "She's kind of expecting me, and my Mom's kind of expecting me to come through. I kind of blew her off too many times."

Tad stood up. "Well, then…" he said lamely. "I guess I should get going…"

I went back into the other room and got the rest of the cups. As I reentered the kitchen, I heard Grace say, "So, still want to help publicize the dance?".

"Yeah, yeah. I said I would. Besides…" Tad looked over at me. "Never mind. Listen, Grace – do you want to get a Coke or something somewhere?"

Seemed like the blood was draining from all my extremities, leaving me to feel transparent, amorphous, no solid ground. Of course boys her own age would pursue Grace. Anyone with any intelligence would recognize her original beauty, see the amazing person there. And she was flattered by Tad's attention once, she liked it, she had confessed to me. Flirting. She need make no excuses to me, we did not have  -- what didn't we have? I felt the floor tilt underneath me, stumbled, dropped the tray of cups I was carrying. "Damn," I said, looking at the mess of spilled drinks.

Startled, Grace and Tad looked over where I was.

"Bummer, man!" Tad observed.

"Everything okay?" Grace asked.

"Fine, fine, just tripped on the rug," I excused, glad I had used plastic cups at least. I sidestepped the mess and grabbed a wad of paper towels and a trash bag.

"Grace?" Tad prompted.

My back was to them as I crouched down, lifting cups into the trash and wiping the sticky pool of spilled sodas. I felt Grace's eyes upon me as I heard her say, "Actually, Tad, I can't." No elaboration. My tensed shoulders relaxed, a flush of relief waved through me. I concentrated on cleaning, letting the white towels absorb the liquid. I heard Grace cross the room and open the refrigerator, putting away the cheese. I stood, turned to see Tad pick up his backpack, shrug on his jacket.

"I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow," he said. Grace, leaning against the fridge, nodded. "Bye Mr. Dimitri," he called. And then was gone. I tore off more paper towels. Grace reached under the sink, then brought me a spray bottle of  cleaner. "There's no rug here," she said, indicating where I had dropped the tray.

"No," I said, bending down again and spraying the floor. Grace crouched opposite me and wiped the floor with a dry paper towel. "Clumsy, I guess." Our eyes met. I opened my mouth to say something, but what? Words that had to remain unsaid, words it was not my place to say. I stood, took the soiled towel from Grace, threw it away. She sat in the chair Tad had vacated.

"Jessie's gay," she said.

"What?"

"I think she and Katie Singer are, like, a couple."

"You didn't tell Tad that."

"It's not my place to. She hasn't even told me, I just know because – well, I just know."

"My sister's a lesbian," I said. "That time, that first meeting, you started to ask me about being involved with the Alliance…"

"When… you got that phone call…" she said.

"Yes. Well, that's why I think the Alliance is so important, and why I'm glad, in spite of everything, that you were able to convince the board to fund the dance. I kind of promised June I'd make sure the Gay/Straight Alliance worked at Sinclair. She had a tough time in high school, and none of us knew why then."

"You didn't know she was gay?"

"Not until she was a junior in college, and I was in India. People weren't gay in high school when I went to high school. It just, it wasn't even considered as a possibility that anyone could be."

"Wow," Grace said. "That's so, like, homophobic."

"But it wasn't even that it was homophobic, then," I said, leaning both elbows on the counter, wishing for a glass of wine. "It was more homo-ignorant. Not that people would have been that nice, either, had they thought about it."

"Okay," she said. "So maybe, now, I do care about the Gay/Straight Alliance. And the… dance." She looked at her watch. "Shoot! I told Jessie I'd be there in one minute. I better go." I retrieved her jacket from the other room and held it as she slipped her arms into each sleeve.

"So how's next Wednesday for the next meeting?" I asked.

"Actually… next Wednesday's my, um, birthday," she said. "I'll be 17."

"Seventeen," I echoed, thinking how much older it sounded than 16, that in a matter of a week she would be closer in age to me by a year, that somehow the difference wasn't so bad then.

"And my family's, like planning a dinner and everything. At my Dad's, I mean my Aunt's restaurant book store place. Book Lovers."

"That's your family?" I asked. "That's a great store. Eclectic selection. Well, I wish you a happy birthday. Why don't we meet on Thursday, then?"

"Great," she said. "Well, I'm off." She stood hesitantly at the door. But I stayed safely behind the counter.

"See you tomorrow."

"Good evening, fair Grace," and I bowed with a flourish. She laughed, and left.