My Life After Now - By Jessica Verdi Page 0,72

I didn’t know was how the hell the principal of my school found out. My face flamed with alternating flashes of embarrassment and betrayal.

“Who told you?” I whispered.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say,” he said awkwardly.

I blinked. “Why?”

“There are certain confidentiality laws that come into play here…”

I stared at him for a long moment in shock, trying to figure out what to do. “Mr. Fisher,” I said slowly, “if you’re not going to tell me anything, why did you call me here?”

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to run something by you. As far as I know, you’re the first student at this school with…you know.”

“HIV,” I said pointedly. If he was allowed to make me feel uncomfortable, I was going to do the same to him.

“Indeed. Well, I thought this could be an excellent teaching opportunity. What would you think about leading an assembly on the importance of personal responsibility? I think you’re the perfect example of how something like this could happen to anyone. We could get the health teachers involved if you’d like, but I think the kids would really respond to you.”

I couldn’t believe this. I shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of crap, especially in my own school.

The sound of foot traffic outside the office door gradually increased as busloads of students entered the building. Students who, if Mr. Fisher got his way, would soon be privy to my secret.

I kept my response simple. “No.”

The corners of his mouth turned down just a bit. “May I ask why not?” Mr. Fisher said.

“I don’t think I would feel very comfortable being put on the spot like that,” I said.

Mr. Fisher was nodding, not looking particularly dissuaded by my refusal. “What if I told you,” he said with a knowing air, “that if you reconsidered, you would be excused from Phys. Ed. for the remainder of your tenure at this school?”

“No gym?”

Mr. Fisher chuckled. “It’s my understanding that most girls your age don’t particularly enjoy the Phys. Ed. requirement.”

“But don’t I need the credits in order to graduate?”

“Participating in the assembly would make you eligible for an independent study health credit,” he explained.

For one eternal, beautiful second, I considered never having to be subjected to the hell-on-earth known as dodgeball ever again. I had to admit, I was tempted to accept the offer. But there was something about Mr. Fisher’s self-satisfied smile that wasn’t quite right, and I began to feel uneasy. Something else was going on here…

And then I saw it.

Mr. Fisher wasn’t trying to be nice. He was just trying to cover his own ass. He probably thought he’d concocted the perfect plan: get the girl with HIV to out herself in front of the whole school under the guise of “education,” and then deliberately keep her out of gym class so the other students wouldn’t be at risk. He’d be seen by thousands of parents as a man of action, the one who saved their children from certain death. The PTA would probably crown him Principal of the Year.

Here it is, I realized with a start. My first run-in with real-world, hard-and-fast discrimination. I’d thought I’d been prepared for this moment, that when something like this actually happened to me, I’d know what to do. How naïve I’d been. Roxie’s warnings, the stories shared at the meetings, and the shapeless, colorless hypothetical were nothing compared with the cutting reality.

I felt contaminated, worthless.

Somehow, I managed to keep my gaze level and my voice calm. I had something to say, and I needed to make sure he heard every word. “Mr. Fisher, thank you for the…tempting offer, but my answer is still no. I don’t want to be treated differently from the other students. This is a public school, and I have the right to not be singled out or discriminated against for any reason. I’ll just have to suffer through gym class like every other student.”

I paused, carefully considering my next words. I’d never spoken to an authority figure like this. He was my principal, after all. But still, he had to understand how wrong he was.

“If you ever call me in for another meeting like this, or give me special treatment in any way because of what you know, I will sue you. My father is a lawyer, Mr. Fisher, a really good one.”

He nodded, his skin gone white.

“And another thing—I’m a good student, and I’ve done my homework. Since you clearly take confidentiality laws seriously, here’s one for you: according