Free The Fight by Elizabeth Karre Page A

Sure maybe it was only because I’d spent my entire life hanging on his every word and thinking he was perfect. But this time, after Matteo ranted about some political stuff and raved about his philosophy class, he actually asked me how school was going.
    I didn’t know how to answer. I was still upset about Dominic, but I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it.
    Without waiting for an answer, Matteo said, “What are you reading in English? It’s too bad you don’t have Watson. She was so cool.”
    â€œUmm, I think we’re starting the Harlem Renaissance next,” I said.
    I didn’t mind not having Ms. Watson. She looked like a guy, and she talked in this abrupt way. Not like the beautiful Weller, who wore the most amazing clothes. I loved staring at her in class. Anyway, Watson had left Southside after Matteo graduated.
    â€œCool—I took a whole class on the Harlem Renaissance last year, remember?”
    I stared at him blankly.
    Matteo laughed. “Izzy, you so don’t even listen to me.”
    â€œDon’t call me Izzy,” I said automatically.
    After dinner, I unpacked my backpack. I wasn’t going to start any homework on a Friday night, though. Matteo grabbed my reading list for English. He frowned.
    â€œDidn’t you say you were doing the Harlem Renaissance? How come Langston Hughes isn’t on this list?”
    I shrugged. I was looking at my math assignment and wondering if I should try to do it when Matteo was around so he could help me.
    â€œWhen are you going—” I started.
    â€œAnd James Baldwin? Countee Cullen? Claude McKay? What the…”
    I yanked the list out of his hands. “Matteo, I don’t
know
. I don’t know who any of those people are. And I don’t care right now. And neither did you when you were a junior in high school. Even if you are super smart.”
    I could feel tears coming into my eyes. I didn’t even know what I was fighting about with him. “I just had a stressful day, OK?” I muttered, shoving the list in my folder.
    But Matteo was barely listening to me. “I think some or maybe all of those guys were gay,” he said. “I remember because that unit was how Watson kind of came out to us. I mean, most people already thought she was, but she was pretty open about discrimination back then and what she’d experienced.”
    He had my attention now.
    â€œThose guys you said were gay? And none of them are on the list?”
    What the hell, I thought, too. Was Weller some kind of gay hater? Did that explain her actions today? For some reason, this made my stomach plunge.
    â€œUmm, Matteo? Did kids beat up other kids for being gay when you were at Southside?”
    He looked at me. “Yeah, sometimes. I never saw it, but I heard rumors. Certain teachers were super strict about kids saying ‘that’s so gay’ and stuff. Watson, obviously. And Salazar—he’s gay too.”
    â€œSalazar’s gay?” I said. He taught theater, not a class I’d had.
    â€œYeah,” Matteo shrugged. “So what?”
    â€œSo what? So what? It’s like in your little liberal college bubble you’ve forgotten what it’s like where we live. It’s a big deal at Southside if people just think you’re gay!” I was getting worked up.
    â€œWhoa, what’s up?” Matteo asked. Then his phone rang. “Oh, sorry, I gotta get this,” he said and turned away as he answered. “Hello?”
    â€œHey, Matt,” I heard a girl’s voice say.
    â€œHey, Casey, what’s up?” he said, walking out of the living room. I heard the door to his room shut. I put my head down on the table.

O
    n Monday I had a plan. I was nervous about it. I had kind of thought before about joining our school’s gay-straight alliance, the GSA, as everyone called it. I needed more extracurriculars for applying to colleges next year anyway,