Free Getting It by Alex Sanchez Page A

right flank of his desk to the left. “But I can’t allow a club that condones immorality.”
    â€œImmorality?”
Sal rose up in his seat. “What’s immoral is letting people get harassed and not doing anything to stop it.” He jabbed his finger like a bayonet toward Mr. Harris.
“That’s
immoral!”
    Carlos watched from the rear, sitting up with interest. He’d come into the meeting secretly kind of hoping the group’s application would be denied so that he could avoid getting involved altogether, but now he almost hoped they’d win.
    Mr. Harris glowered at Sal. “You’re out of line, son.”
    â€œMr. Harris?” Carlotta interceded. “I think what Sal is trying to say is, this group will help protect people.”
    â€œAll day long,” Vicky added, “you walk down the hall and hear people say, ‘That’s so gay,’ ‘She’s so queer.’”
    Espie agreed. “You wouldn’t let people say racial or religious stuff that way, like ‘That’s so black’ or ‘She’s so Baptist.’”
    â€œI appreciate your concerns,” Mr. Harris said to the girls—and it seemed to Carlos that he shifted the same stack of papers he’d previously moved from the left back to the right. “But I believe a group like this would only be disruptive. I can’t allow that.”
    â€œOther schools have GSAs,” Sal countered. “They’re not disruptive.”
    â€œWhat other schools do is their business,” Mr. Harris fired back. “I’m responsible for my school. And I say no.”
    â€œBut you’ve got to!” Sal shouted.
    Mr. Harris stood to face him. “Son, I said no. You’re dismissed!”
    The room fell silent as the girls and Sal stood to leave. But Carlos squirmed in his seat, waiting for someone to correct Mr. Harris. According to the GSA websites he’d originally researched, a school did indeed
have
to allow a GSA, whether the principal liked it or not. Surely Sal knew that—didn’t he? Then why wasn’t he speaking up?
    Carlos clenched his jaw, trying to keep quiet. After all, this club was Sal’s problem, not his. But the words burst uncontrollably fromCarlos’s mouth. “Mr. Harris? Actually, um, you
do
have to let us have the club.”
    The group stopped their retreat. All eyes turned toward Carlos. The seconds stretched interminably as Mr. Harris’s brow furrowed even deeper.
    â€œDidn’t you hear what I said?” Mr. Harris’s words rattled like a machine gun.
    â€œYes, sir.” Carlos jammed his hands into his pockets, trying to keep from trembling. “But, um, according to the ACLU.org site—that’s the American Civil Liberties Union—because of, um, a Supreme Court decision about something called the Federal Equal Access Act, you
have
to allow the club.” Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat. “Even if you think it’s immoral.”
    Sal stared at Carlos, his frustrated scowl slowly turning upward into a smile. Then he triumphantly pivoted to face Mr. Harris—who looked like he’d just been shot.

Twenty-Three
    T HE LITTLE TROOP marched victoriously from the principal’s office, praising Carlos as a hero.
    â€œYou were awesome!” Espie grinned.
    â€œYeah, wait till I tell Pulga!” Carlotta remarked.
    â€œYou were like our secret weapon!” Sal clapped Carlos on the back. “Why didn’t you tell me that ACLU stuff before?”
    Carlos shrugged. “I thought you knew.”
    Even Vicky stopped glowering, apparently starting to forgive him.
    And yet Carlos felt like he’d sort of shot himself in the foot, having blown his best chance to dodge the GSA. Why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut?
    Granted, Mr. Harris hadn’t fully said yes to the GSA, but he’d clearly been taken aback, shuffling papers on his desk and