Free Tessa Masterson Will Go to Prom by Brendan Halpin & Emily Franklin Page A

the opposite sex.”
    Of course, this is not just an issue for one teen, but for all of the students at Brookfield-Mason who have been planning for the big event since last year, even going so far as meeting duringthe summer break to discuss themes and improvements. One student directly involved in the scandal is Lucas Fogelman: “I just think it’s really selfish … our whole Prom is going to be about [Tessa Masterson] instead of just being a normal dance.”
    Tears are already streaming down my face, but when I read the last sentence, I just start sobbing.
    “I mean, maybe some people won’t even get to go to Prom now because of their religion, and I just think she ought to think about somebody besides herself and not do this.”
    There are umbrellas for rain. Parkas for blizzards. Storm cellars for tornadoes. But there’s no protection for this. I close the search window where I had the Ted Williams book all ready to purchase from a used bookstore, put my head on the desk, and try to figure out what on earth to do next.

10

LUKE
    “What the hell were you thinking?!”
    Mom is yelling at me. I have learned from long years of experience that one does not answer this question. Answering the question only leads to problems. The best way to handle this is just to sit back and wait for the storm to blow over.
    “I don’t even know where to start. It’s like you’ve betrayed everything I thought I raised you to be! Friendship, decency, loyalty … Do any of these things mean anything to you?”
    Again, not a question it would be wise to answer in any way. Mom takes a deep breath and continues, “You and I would quite literally be out on the streets if it weren’t for the Mastersons. It’s bad enough for you to throw yourbest friend under the bus because of a blow to your male ego, but for you to put that family at the mercy of the hypocrites who—” And here’s where it gets weird. Mom stops yelling at me because she’s getting choked up.
    “I gotta get out of this house. I’m too mad at you to be here right now,” Mom says, and off she goes.
    So I’m all alone in a house with no cable. It’s dark out, which means I can’t go practice my pitches. It’s not my night to work at the store, which means Tessa will be there, which means I really can’t go there. And anyway I’m not sure the Mastersons are gonna want to keep me employed. If the boycott works at all, they’re going to have to start cutting people’s hours, and if I were them, I’d certainly start with mine.
    And there’s nowhere else in town I can go and not see a million people who want to talk to me, and I hate them all.
    There are the people who think I’m a hero because I’m standing up for biblical values. Like I’ve ever opened a Bible in my life. Maybe if I did, I could find the part about how making a girl’s life into a living hell is something that God thinks you should do.
    And then there is the much smaller group of people who think I’m an evil jerk because I sold out my friend knowing exactly what was going to happen.
    I don’t feel like that’s true. I actually sold out my friend not realizing or caring exactly what was going to happen. Which is better. Right?
    The phone rings. “Hello?”
    “Hi, this is Steve Gershon from the Cincinnati—” I hang up the phone.
    A couple minutes later it rings again. “This is Wells Randolph Tarrow, chair of the National Organization to Defend Marriage—”
Click
.
    Two more reporters call, and I just unplug the phone.
    I turn on WLW and listen to the Reds game for a while. After four innings, Mom comes home.
    “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t … Whew. My love for you is unconditional, which means I still love you when you’re an asshole. But you’ve got to do something to fix this.”
    “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know how to fix it.”
    “Neither do I, kiddo. But you’ve started this, and you’ve got to do something about it.” She ruffles my hair and heads