"Ok, guys, let's take it from the scene where Charming sees her for the first time at the ball.” James, when you see Cinderella, imagine that everyone else in the ballroom has disappeared. All the other women fawning over you are nothing more than flies buzzing about. It's only you and Cinderella, and you must meet her. Got it?" called Cal from the front row of the auditorium.

  James nodded earnestly. "Got it."

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  "And Cerise. You're not sure you belong. You're just a servant and the room is full of nobility and fancy people, including your stepsisters, but when you see him, your heart is pounding, and you know that this is exactly where you're supposed to be."

  "Soytanly, Mr. S!" Cerise quipped, channeling Groucho Marx with a playful waggle of her eyebrows at James.

  “Thank you, Groucho. Places, everyone!” Cal’s command sent the cast into a flurry, scurrying to their positions for the ballroom dance scene. Cerise took her place stage left, measuring a few inches taller than James, who took stage right.

  Mrs. Clooney, a dedicated community volunteer, perched at the old piano, rifled through the score until she found the right page, and poised her fingers above the keys, awaiting Cal’s signal.

  Cal lifted his baton with a shared glance, and with a decisive “And!” he launched the her into the waltz’s opening bars.

  Cal had been working with the kids daily for a full week to prepare for this scene. The young actors’ movements were awkward at first, but they soon found a rhythm. As Cerise and James moved towards center stage, their eyes locked. They assumed the dance position and began to waltz with unexpected grace, their eye contact never wavering.

  With excitement and admiration, Cal watched as one of many little moments, like a cut of a sculptor's chisel, was forming the figure of this young man. His transition was not some masquerade or phase. This was James. This was his nephew. But as accepting as Cal was becoming, he was unsure if others were ready for the fast-approaching kiss.

  "Ok, let's stop there. We'll get to the kiss another time," called Cal.

  The pianist stopped and the kids broke character and began to disperse, but James and Cerise did not. In full view of the entire cast and whoever might lurk in the auditorium, Cerise kissed James full on the mouth, leaving him dazed. The room erupted in a mix of gasps and giggles, with a chorus of ‘oohs’ savoring the unexpected display of romance. Others broke into excited whispering and chatter, but Jared, off to the side, couldn’t contain his disgust. “Eeeeewww!”

  Tory's voice was the first to break the stunned silence, her words sharp with disbelief. "Dude-uh!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

  Perhaps feeling the weight of the room's disapproval, Jared nervously touched his ear before defensively retorting "What?" Then he crossed over his chest. "Come on! It's weird!"

  The class erupted in outrage in support of their Cinderella and Charming.

  Anger and embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he stood alone. “Whatever! I’m outta here. I’m not gonna be in some sick, perv play. Later!” He stormed off the stage, footsteps echoing through the auditorium, ending with a hard door slam.

  The tension that had built up in the hall seemed to follow Jared out. Cal turned back to the stage, his eyes searching for his nephew. But the spot where James had stood moments before was empty—Cerise remained, a solitary figure under the spotlight, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

  The bell rang signaled the end of the day’s drama. Cal, with a heavy sigh, addressed the remaining students. “Class dismissed."

  They filed out in a flurry of chatter. Cerise lingered for a moment on the empty space where James had been, before she, too, grabbed her backpack, and up the aisle.

  Cal’s first instinct was to check the boys’ room for James, but it was deserted. Unsure of his nephew’s schedule, he went to the office, hoping Josie would have the answer.

  The office was unsettled with a storm of intensity, and Josie, a phone pressed against her ears, was at the center. Her voice rose and fell in heated waves against the wall of a parent’s obstinacy. “Yes! Fine! I’ll make sure she gets the message!” She slammed the receiver down, but it missed its cradle, skidding across the desk with a clatter. Her hands were a blur, fumbling to set the phone right, and when she finally looked up, both fury and hurt emanated from her eyes, a reverberation of the clatter of her phone conversation.

  They stood there, Cal in the doorway, Josie behind her fortress of a desk. Their eyes locked, and he realized he had never seen anyone treat her with kindness the whole time he had been at BMS. The kids took her for granted; Dot was a nightmare, and the parents were frequently awful to her. For a solid five seconds, they were frozen in a stare until he became full of compassion for her, which changed his expression and hers simultaneously.

  "Rough day, huh," he said, stepping close and tapped a finger on her desk.

  She grunted lightly, closed her eyes and shook her head. "Buddy, you don't know the half of it. What can I do for you, Mr. Stevens?" she asked, taking her seat.

  I have a student—my nephew—”

  “James.”

  “Yes, well, he left musical rehearsal early… there was a little thing… he may have been upset.”

  “Little thing?”

  "Well, yes, one of the boys—"

  "Jared. Yes, I'm well aware. That was his dad on the phone… Little Turd, Sr.," she added under her breath with a scoff.

  "His father called?"

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  "Ohhhh yes. I get the pleasure of speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Conner regularly. It seems Mr. and Mrs. Conner are unhappy with your choice of Prince Charming."

  "James?"

  "Your nephew."

  "Someone has a problem with James playing Prince Charming?"

  "Mr. and Mrs. Conner."

  "Yeah… well, I got that. Because he's related to me?" He knew that wasn't the reason even as he asked, but he was not ready to reach that conclusion.

  "That is on the list, but not at the top. At the top, Mr. Stevens, is that James used to be Jamie, and he was on stage as Prince Charming, a beloved and apparently sacred literary figure to Mr. and Mrs. Conner, and his arms were around a girl, and his lips were on her face."

  "What? That's ridic—"

  "Ridiculous, yes. But Mrs. Conner, as you may know, is the president of the PTA and is concerned about the image our play might be giving."

  "The image. Huh." Cal sat down across from her. "That's the same word Jared used. Look, James was hands down the best for the part. I know it's an adjustment for some folks, but come on."

  "Listen, you're preaching to the choir, Mr. Stevens."

  "Cal."

  "Cal, you have to understand something. This is not Seattle. Oklahoma is not the only state with small-town thinkers. Groups like school PTAs and Rotary clubs run this place, and when a family like the Conners raises objections, people tend to either rally around them or stay silent. You're playing with fire, Cal, and maybe that's not a bad thing. You're the outsider, you know? You'll be gone in a few weeks. You can afford to be the big city interloper. What do you have to lose?"

  "Big city," scoffed Cal. I suppose Norman is big for Oklahoma, the university and all. Look, I'm not trying to create some sort of social upheaval here; I want to put on a good show and raise some money. What class is he supposed to be in now?"

  "Who."

  "James."

  "Your nephew."

  "Yes."

  Josie quickly swiped, made a few clicks with her mouse, and then made a few keystrokes. "Third period. Math. Mr. St. John." Then she tilted her head and squinted. "You really mean that, don't you?"

  Mean what?"

  "You really care about this musical."

  Despite himself, he did care. Except for James, he had spent his adult life avoiding anything to do with middle school and middle schoolers. He, like so many, was glad to be an adult. He thought about Jared and Hunter. Didn't every school have a couple of kids like them? His school certainly had. He pooched out his lips, raised his eyebrows, and blew out a quick nasal puff. "Yeah. I guess I do."

  Dot's door opened abruptly with a startling clunk, alarm written on her face. "Josie! I-oh, it's you," she said, seeing Cal. "Well, I need to speak with both of you anyway," she said rapidly. "Come into my office and close the door!"

  They entered Dot’s office and took their seats as Dot shut the door with a decisive click. As Josie and Cal took their seats, she moved behind her desk, rested her hands on the back of the chair, and looked down for a moment. “I just got off the phone with Mr. Jansen, Hunter’s father,” She looked up at Cal. “He was very upset, Mr. Stevens, about your casting decision for Prince Charming. It seems the both the Connors and Jansens have a moral objection.”

  A bolt nearly brought him to his feet. "Moral objection? To James?"

  "Perhaps Benville just isn't ready for a trans Prince Charming," she said, mostly to herself as she began pacing. She turned her back on them to face the window. Josie and Cal looked at each other, waiting to know whether to be outraged. Then she whipped around and said, "Is this a hill you're willing to die on, Mr. Stevens?"

  He sprang to his feet and stepped toward her.

  "I would die on any hill for James."

  With resolve, Dot looked him hard in the eyes. "Okay then. I'm going to stand with you."

  Josie leapt up, her hand extended, palm down. “Me too!” But her enthusiasm was met with blank stares. She thrust her hand forward again. “Bring it in, guys!”

  "We don't do that, Josie," said Dot dismissively, moving swiftly around her desk. "Get out there and man the phones. I suspect we're going to get a few more calls. We are standing our ground with young James." She then stopped at Cal and searched his eyes. Her voice was low but not unkind. “This kid better be good."

  ##

  The phone calls did continue throughout the day, and Dot's email inbox grew. They were not all to express their dislike of a trans boy playing Prince Charming in the school musical; many wrote or called to show their support. What was clear, however, was that word had gotten around Benville and its surrounding towns, and Dot was getting nervous. She knew what was coming: a call from the superintendent.

  "Ms. Frazier? "said Josie, popping her head in as if on cue. "I have the superintendent on the line. Should I send him through?"

  Dot's chest tightened, and her mouth immediately dried out. She began to speak, but the words halted in her throat. She cleared it and tried again. "Yes, of course," she said, trying to sound composed and in control.

  She stared at her phone. Line one was blinking. She imagined what kind of voice and what kind of feeling was on the other end of the phone. This wouldn't be pleasant. She closed her eyes and remembered a workshop in which a lecturer advised them to take a deep breath and count down from ten. But with each breath, her anxiety rose. She gave herself a quick nod and picked up the phone.

  “Hello, this is Principal Frazier. How may I assist you?” she answered, her voice teetering between authority and apprehension.

  "You don't have to tell me who this is," came Superintendent Korahan's nasal tenor voice. "Look, I have a lot of concerned parents contacting my office regarding your musical. Do you understand we are trying to raise money, not take some sort of political stand on LGBT - whatever rights. This is not the time or place for this. You are an employee of this district, not some sort of activist who can just do whatever the hell she wants."

  "I'm sorry. Are we breaking some sort of school policy? " said Dot, her nerve hardening.

  "This isn't about policies or values or personal beliefs. You are free to believe what you wish. Hell, I have a gay niece. It's not about any of that. It's about what this school represents!"

  "Excuse me? And what does this school represent?"

  "The community! And you know who we need to keep this school running?"

  "I'm gonna say community? "

  "I gotta say, Ms. Frazier, I don't care for your tone. You know there are those who would rather see someone else in this position at BMS. You are running out of allies here."

  All of her life, she had played it safe. She knew the rules, and she played by them to a fault. Despite what people might think about her, she cared deeply for the children under her care. It was a thankless job. She had seen more than one principal lose control of a school by being nice -- being the cool principal. Without control, there would be no order, and without order, there could be no safety. And without safety, there could be no education. But when she pictured this young man's face, James, she knew a principle was at play here. Whatever rules or morays she was breaking were more important to her at this moment.

  Dot rose from her chair, a slow, deliberate motion that carried the weight of her conviction. She stood tall, her posture unyielding. "With respect, Mr. Korahan, we are not talking about communities or fundraisers. Yes, I agree, it has to do with what this school represents. And right now, we represent James Chin and any student who needs our support. This young man, according to Mr. Stevens, was the clear standout in his audition. If he says that James is the best candidate for the role, then he is. And I trust him on this."

  "Cal Stevens…the uncle of this James? Are you telling me that he would not show his niece... ahem... nephew preferential treatment? What do we even know about this man? Is he even a teacher?"

  "Mr. Stevens is a world-renowned singer with more teaching talent than all of his predecessors combined."

  The line went quiet. Had he hung up the phone? Was he so furious that he could not speak? She began to doubt herself. She wondered if what she had said -- how she had spoken to her boss -- had been reckless. What had she been thinking?

  "You must feel very strongly about this, Dot,” his voice a lower temperature.

  "I do, Bill.”

  "You should know that the PTA has called a special meeting tonight. They do not get to decide school policy, but some of our parents have deep pockets, and without them, we are in trouble. This is not one-sided, but the loudest voices right now are the dissenters, and you can guess who they are. I recommend that you attend. And bring that Mr. Stevens along with you. This is his doing."