Susie leaned clear over Marlee and Lisa to whisper at Sam, “I thought you were going to chicken out.”
“Me, too.” Sam grimaced.
Susie whacked her on the arm for good measure and then slid back into her own seat.
“I’m proud of you,” Lisa whispered into Sam’s ear.
“You are?”
Lisa nodded. “Big step.” She smiled that awesome smile again and then turned her attention to the podium.
Sam took a slow breath to calm her thundering heart and snuck a peek around her. No one was staring at her anymore. They seemed to be riveted by the speaker.
“Don’t let yourselves be victimized,” the speaker boomed. “Don’t be silenced. Let your voices be heard.” She took a moment to scan the audience. “I’ve listened to countless gays and lesbians during my campaign, and my heart goes out to you. For years the GLBT community has hidden behind the fear of rejection, behind the fear of ostracization, but no more. You now have the right to marry in New York State.”
The audience, Sam and her friends included, broke into thunderous applause. They leaped to their feet for a standing ovation as if the speaker had single-handedly passed the law herself.
She nodded with them until the applauders regained their seats. “But now we have a bigger fight. We have to push for federal recognition of your marriages.”
Another round of thunderous applause erupted.
The speaker shook her head as if gathering her thoughts. “You know,” her voice softened, “most people are ignorant about who you are. Look, I’m not making excuses, but people believe the stereotypes they see on TV. Those carefully chosen media images of extreme behaviors. To be honest, people are scared. Did you know that anger is simply a manifestation of fear? Look, I can’t imagine what it’s like— living under a cloak of lies and deception, not being able to be who you truly are. You’re not hurting anybody, are you?”
“No!” the audience boomed back.
“Is loving someone wrong?”
“No!”
“Hell, no!” the speaker said and the audience burst into applause.
“Who is she?” Sam nodded toward the speaker with her chin. I like her.
“That’s Asa Crete. She’s the assembly member from our district. She’s the only Democrat assembly member in the entire North Country.”
“That’s right. I remember her campaign.” Sam also remembered how pissed her father had been when the Republican candidate he backed lost the election to Crete. Her father had dragged her to a few fund-raising events to show he had the support of the young people. Not that Sam supported the candidate in the least. In fact, she thought he was a puppet doing everything her father wanted, but like most things in her life, she simply didn’t have a choice.
“You weren’t here when she started her speech,” Lisa said. “She said she was straight, but not narrow.”
“Cool.” Sam nodded and sat back.
“So,” Assembly Member Crete continued, “remember this. Don’t let anyone tell you how to live. Demand respect!” She pounded the podium. “The respect everybody deserves. No more second class!” She pounded the podium one last time, and the audience leaped to its collective feet and cheered.
A chant of “No more second class” rippled through the auditorium for several empowering moments.
Sam couldn’t believe how good it felt to be among other people who were like her. It was amazing.
Assembly Member Crete thanked the crowd and sat down in the guest-of-honor seat on the stage. A man who looked to be in his forties got up behind the podium. Sam liked his rainbow tie-dyed “Got Pride?” t-shirt. He invited everyone to enjoy the rest of the day visiting the vendors, listening to the bands, and watching the film festival that would start in an hour.
Sam and her friends filed out of their row and followed the crowd to the quad. They moved off to the side to get out of the mass of people.
Sam hugged Ronnie first. He looked stylish in black pants and boots, a white linen shirt, and a tight leather jacket. He wore his hair spiked short and had broken out his Adam Lambert guy liner.
“Glad to see you finally kicked down that closet door, Samantha Rose.”
“Kicked it down? No.” Sam laughed. “It’s more like opening it up a crack to see what’s out here.”
“I’m still proud of you.”
“I’m proud of all of us. I’m glad you could meet us here, Ronnie.”
“Well, I don’t have any gay friends except you guys. But look at me, I’m a veritable lez-magnet.”
Sam laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. She could tell he was nervous about the whole gay pride event, too.
“Hey, gringa,” Susie said, “would you mind if Marlee and I held hands? Marlee thinks we shouldn’t because it’ll make you uncomfortable.”
“Go for it, girls.”
“Really?”
Sam nodded, and Susie reached for Marlee’s hand.
“Yeah, you heard that speaker. ‘No more hiding.’”
“This is huge for us, too.” Marlee lifted up Susie’s hand in hers. “We’ve never held hands in public before.”
“C’mon, let’s check out these booths.” Susie led the way toward the vendors in the quad.
Sam leaned against Lisa and whispered, “Do you want to hold hands, too?”
“We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Sam was ready for that step, but Samantha Rose most definitely wasn’t.
Lisa’s cheeks turned the cutest shade of pink. “Let’s not out you before your time, eh? You haven’t even told your parents yet.”
Sam nodded, more than a little relieved, and fell into step with Lisa and Ronnie following the trail Susie and Marlee blazed through the crowd.
“Hey, Sus,” Sam called, “hang on.” She stepped up to the Rainbow Council’s Youth Alliance booth.
An older woman with short dark hair handed Sam a pamphlet. Lisa looked over Sam’s shoulder as she opened it.
“The Youth Alliance meets every other Tuesday right here on campus,” the woman said. “In fact we’re meeting this Tuesday. Feel free to join us.”
“Thank you.” Sam was about to move away when a guy with purple spiked hair sidled up to the table. He looked like he was their age, but Sam didn’t recognize him from East Valley High School.
“Lord, the rumors are true. It is you. Samantha Rose Payton, you have to go to our next YA meeting. It would be so cool if you joined us.” He fanned himself as if he were a southern belle. “I can’t believe you’re here. Is this your girlfriend?” He leaned closer to Lisa and said, “You should come, too. Everyone is welcome. Bring all your friends.” The sweep of his hand included Susie, Marlee, and Ronnie. He leaned closer to Sam and whispered out of the side of his mouth, “And you must introduce me to this gorgeous creature.” He flashed Ronnie a devilish smile.
By this time, Sam had gone from flustered to amused. “Seeing as I don’t know your name, you’ll have to introduce yourself.”
“Where are my manners?” He bowed in front of Ronnie. “My name, sir, is Jordan Saunders.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Ronald Alesi.”
Sam exchanged a smile with her friends. “They were made for each other,” she whispered.
“If you like, Ronald, I can show you around.” Without waiting for a response from Ronnie, Jordan turned to the woman behind the table. “Anne, you don’t need me for a while, do you?” He shook his head emphatically as if hypnotizing her to agree with him.
“Go. Have fun,” Anne said.
“You girls don’t mind?” Ronnie pleaded to Sam with his eyes. It was obvious he was intrigued by the spiky-haired Jordan.
“Go. Have fun,” Sam echoed.
Ronnie mouthed, “Thank you,” and took off with Jordan.
“See girls?” Anne said. “There goes proof positive that you’re not alone. There are people you can talk to who’ve been through what you’re going through.” She pointed to a phon
e number on the back of the pamphlet. “That’s our hotline number if anybody needs help. We’re all in this boat together.”
“Thanks,” Sam said.
“Yes, thank you,” Lisa added.
They turned away from the booth and headed back into the crowds.
“Ooh, funnel cake,” Marlee said with glee. “C’mon, girls.”
They followed the heady smell of fried dough and powdered sugar. The funnel cake cart sat in the middle of a myriad of other food carts, and Marlee decreed it was time to eat. After lunch, with shared funnel cakes for dessert, Sam patted her stomach and groaned. “Funnel cakes always sound like a good idea—“
“But so aren’t,” Marlee finished Sam’s sentence. She looked a little green. “Next time, guys, turn me toward the broccoli cart.”
“You don’t like broccoli,” Susie said.
“Exactly.” Marlee held her stomach and groaned.
“C’mon,” Sam said, “we have a whole ‘nother section of booths to check out.” Sam led the way underneath a giant rainbow balloon arch.
“Speaking of checking out,” Susie said, “you’ve got some fans checking you out, Sam.” She nodded her head toward a group of women taking pictures of Sam with their cell phones.
Sam turned away. “God, I hate that. Can’t they just leave me alone?”
“You said it might be like this,” Lisa said, “but I had no idea. It’s crazy.”
“I’m sorry, you guys.” Sam turned away from another bunch of people taking pictures.
“Hey, look,” Susie said. “This booth will cheer you up.”
“Oh, hell no, Sus.” Sam laughed. Leave it to Susie to find the Safe Sex booth.
“Okay, chicken.” Susie pulled Marlee along by the hand. “We’ll check it out and get back to you.”
Marlee grimaced over her shoulder with a “help me” plea on her face.
Sam and Lisa laughed and then Sam guided Lisa toward a vendor that sold pride souvenirs. Sam wanted to get Lisa something. They looked at earrings and necklaces, but Lisa didn’t seem enamored by anything, so they meandered toward a section that had rings.
Sam wanted to hold hands with Lisa, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was jealous of everyone who felt free enough to hold hands or walk with their arms wrapped around each other. It was pathetic, really. If she couldn’t bring herself to hold hands with Lisa when they were surrounded by gay people, then when would she ever be able to?
“Do you see anything you like?” Sam asked, changing the subject in her head.
“You know you don’t have to buy me things all the time, baby.”
“I know. I just like to.”
“How about these?” Lisa tried on an inexpensive mood ring.
“A mood ring?” Sam couldn’t help the smile creeping up her face.
“Yeah, let’s each get one and then we can think of each other every time we look at them.” Lisa smiled at Sam sweetly.
Sam couldn’t speak past the emotion in her throat, so she simply nodded. There were so many thoughts tumbling through her head. She wanted to say to Lisa, right there at the pride festival where everyone could hear, You’ve changed my life. You fill my heart like I never thought anyone could, and I’m ashamed that I still lie about your existence.
Sam flicked a tear away wishing she had the nerve to actually voice the things she felt. She left Lisa thumbing through some pamphlets and went to pay for the rings.
“Samantha Rose,” a male voice called.
Thinking it was Ronnie, Sam looked up, but cursed herself for doing it. A photographer from the Clarksonville Courier snapped her picture. There was a reporter right behind him with a tape recorder and a microphone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I'm Still Me
SAM’S PHONE SAT propped up on her desk. She had it set on speakerphone as she rosined her violin bow. Opening night for the school play was only five weeks away, and she wanted to practice a few of the songs after she hung up with Lisa.
“I had such a great day yesterday,” Sam said.
“Me, too,” Lisa purred. “I’m looking at my new ring right now.”
Sam put the bow down and held up her left hand. “Me, too. It’s black.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Talking to you will make it green again. Or does blue mean you’re in love?”
“I don’t remember.” Lisa laughed. “I can’t find the paper.”
“I’ve got mine. Hang on.” Sam put her bow down and reached into her top desk drawer. She pulled out a bunch of pamphlets she’d gotten from the festival. She rifled through them and found the slip of paper with the list of mood ring colors. “Here it is. Blue means love. Black means anxious, and green means mixed emotions.”
“Mine’s blue right now,” Lisa said.
“Aww, that’s nice.” Sam laughed when she noticed another pamphlet sitting on top of the stack.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I’m looking at the pamphlet Susie got for us yesterday. ‘Guarding Against STDs: Lesbian Edition.’”
“You kept that?”
“I didn’t mean to. I forgot they were in my jacket pocket when I got home. I don’t know how Susie had the nerve to go to that booth in the first place.”
“She was a woman on a mission, eh?”
“Yeah.” Sam scanned the pamphlet. “At least this one tells us about the risks for two girls gettin’ it on.”
“Sam!”
“Does that embarrass you?”
“A little.”
“Sorry. You want to talk about something else?”
Lisa was quiet for a moment and then whispered, “I never heard of dental dams before.”
“Me neither.”
“How would you get them? Ask your dentist? Hell no.”
Sam chuckled. “According to Susie, it’s just a piece of latex. I guess you could get latex gloves and cut them into squares, right?”
“Or cut up a male condom maybe. And how about those pouchy female condom thingies she showed us in those pictures? They were fascinating.”
“Yeah, hetero women can be in control of their own bodies now, you know?”
“Yeah.”
There was an odd silence on Lisa’s end for a moment which made Sam worry. “Lisa?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you worried about, you know, what we did at the lake house?” Sam hoped Lisa wasn’t having regrets about the two amazing nights they’d spent together.
“No.” It was only one word, but Lisa didn’t sound one hundred percent sure.
“It sound like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
“I think it’s good to know about these things. To be safe. I mean, we should know all the options.”
“Yeah, it is good to know, because I plan to be with you for a long, long time.” Sam smiled inside and out.
“Same.”
They were quiet for a moment until Lisa said, “I have news.”
“News?”
“Remember how I emailed Coach Greer about maybe applying to Rockville College to play softball?”
“Yeah.”
”She emailed me back this morning.”
“What did she say?”
“She hoped I’d be back at camp next summer—“
“Without a broken hand this time.”
“Exactly.” Lisa chuckled. “She said she was counting on me applying to Rockville and playing ball for her.”
“Really? That’s so cool.”
“That’s not all she said.”
“What else?”
“Full-ride.”
“Scholarship?”
“Yeah.”
“No freakin’ way!” Sam squealed. “Lisa, that‘s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. It kind of takes the pressure off my family. She said it was too soon to bank on the scholarship, but she hoped to keep a spot open for me when the time comes.”
“That is so awesome. We have to celebrate.�
� Sam was quiet for a moment before adding, “My parents want me to go to Wellesley College in Massachusetts. It’s a women’s college.”
“They still have those?”
“Mm hmm. Mother—“ Sam choked on the word. “Um, she went to Wellesley and wants me to go there, too. I’d be a legacy or something.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re the child of someone who went to that school.”
“Do you want to go to Wellesley? You’ll be so far away.”
“I know,” Sam said.
“If you don’t go there, where would you want to go?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me that?”
“Duh?”
“Because it’s my life?” Sam sighed and picked up the pile of pamphlets. She tucked the STD pamphlet in the middle of the stack and shoved them toward the back of the drawer.
“You know they have a music department at Rockville,” Lisa said. “Supposedly a good one.”
“Yeah, I know. I went there for the All State Orchestra Festival last year. It’s an award-winning department, according to them, anyway.”
“Mm hmm,” Lisa said. “They have a pre-med program, too.”
“Pre-med?” Sam sat straight up in her desk chair. “No way! You’re seriously thinking about becoming a doctor?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. You were the one who said I’d be good at it.”
“And you totally would be.”
“Sam, if you went to Rockville with me, we could play softball on the same team, for three years anyway. We could live in the same dorm, too.”
“Whoa, that would be totally awesome.” Sam chuckled. “Oh, my God. I just said, ‘totally awesome.’ The debutante has morphed into a surfer dudette.”
Lisa laughed, and Sam loved the sound of it. She also loved that Lisa was planning their future together.
“Ah, it’s a nice dream, baby,” Sam said, “but I don’t think my parents will let me go to Rockville.”
“I know.” Lisa sighed into the phone. “So, has there been any fallout from those stupid reporters yet?”
“Nah, not yet.”
“They were so aggressive.”
“No kidding, but I think we handled them okay. Don’t you?”
Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series Page 21