Right now, Mrs. Somboon-Fox is aware that I am trying to change school policy on the sly. She is also aware that Shreya is in on it. She is considering what it means that I think I can do this without asking. And now she is wondering if she has been trusting me a little too much for a little too long. How quickly can you reexamine three years of friendly banter and support? How fast can you decide some cocky kid with glitter—GLITTER—on his cheeks thinks he is smarter than you? Apparently, this takes about forty-five seconds.

She gives us a look. “I will ASSUME that you all know that you do not make school policy by fiat. That I alone ALSO do not make school policy. That we have a school board and that this school board would FIRE me and CANCEL prom if your little stunt worked.” (Note: Whenever an adult uses the adjective “little,” there is a deep reservoir of anger just beneath the surface sarcasm.)

Yasmin’s mouth is a perfect O of surprise. Bryce’s face is the color of the school’s brick facade. He snatches the paper and scans it. When he looks at me—he kind of hates to look at me in general, tbh—his eyes are full of what can only be called righteousness. “What? You had to make prom gay, too?”

Shreya’s eyes are blazing. “Inclusive means including people.”

“Thanks a lot, Gandhi.” Bryce is smart-ish, but he can still only name one Indian besides Shreya, so his insult catalog is pretty shallow. He turns to Yasmin. “Did you know about this?”

“No!” Yasmin is trapped. Surface popularity is very important to her, and this requires seeming agreeable to everyone. She is unfailingly polite to me and Cheng, and really everyone, but every smile is kind of pinched, as if the effort hurts a little. She is torn at this moment between her love of order and the social storm she can imagine me whipping up. That Shreya and I cooked this up without the Co-Presidents is an offense against protocol, so she is vibrating from the disrespect. Still, she’s a politician at heart and isn’t going to personalize this.

She keeps her face neutral. “It’s a moot point. Mrs. Somboon-Fox is the principal, and she says no.”

“As I made clear, I did not say anything. I don’t have that power. If YOU want to go before the board and ask for them to approve this change, you may.”

Mrs. Somboon-Fox knows that we know: A) that the board will never agree to an emergency early meeting before its annual session after graduation; and B) that I would be laughed out of the room by those people. (You won’t be at all surprised to learn that the board is eleven dudes and two women, and all thirteen look as if they just stepped off the Mayflower.)