The Queer New Lawyer

Winning arguments is my middle name. Since I was little, winning arguments was all I cared about doing. The subject of the debate never mattered to me. All I cared about was beating my opponent. At least, that was until I began my lectures as a law scholar. Now that I've begun the study of modern laws, achieving the successful argument has lessened as the achievement I primarily thought it was.

As I emerge from my slumber, my roommate Chasey hops onto my bed. Still shaking off the effects of slumber, I gently blink in acknowledgment. Chasey smuggly grins, placing their hand on my knee. I groan, waking each limb individually.

"Have you finished the last paragraph of our closing statement?" Chasey chirps.

"I only have a few more words," I answered groggily. Chasey nods, their eyes traveling towards the door. They bounce back to their feet, their head snapping to face me once more.

"Do you want some pancakes?" Chasey asks. "They're still warm."

"Sure. I don't want to have to get anything from some random person." I state. "Did you make them, or did you force Abby to do your bidding?" Chasey giggles, placing their hand on their chin.

"I guess you'll never know," Chasey chimes. I laugh, letting myself return to the cozy blankets for a moment more.

As I rise from the comforting hug of my bed, joking tones and bouts of laughter erupt from elsewhere in the campus dorm. A small smile creeps onto my face, accompanying me as I prance to the living room.

A moment of lightness in my chest erupts as I turn the corner into the living room. Abby and Chasey, alongside Jeremy and Katherine, sit amongst the multitude of bean bags and folding chairs.

"Rebekah, grab a plate of pancakes and join us!" Jeremy cheers.

"Alright," I submitted, "I'll be just a moment." Grasping my plate with all my might, I place three pancakes on it and make a line for the first open seat I spot. Plopping down, I shove my fork into the top of the gold pancakes.

"Did you hear what Jamey did last night?" Katherine asks, her raven locks bouncing to frame her face.

"What happened?" Abby prompted.

"Apparently," Katherine whispered, "she hooked up with another girl. It's so disgusting, isn't it?"

"What's so disgusting about that?" I ask.

Katherine retorts, "It's two girls making out, doesn't that just sound unnatural to you?"

"Well I'm a lesbian," I answer. "Do I gross you out?" Katherine's jaw tumbles to the floor, her eyes stretching to match.

"You're one of those nasty queers?" she asks. "How could I ever be friends with you?" My expression falls as I shake my head solemnly. My heart cries as Katherine throws her plate down, and stomps out of the apartment.

"Just give her a little bit of time," Abby comforts. "She doesn't know how to react."

"She probably wanted to call me a slur," I retorted. "Katherine doesn't like queer people, you know that." Abby reclines in her seat, tears shouting their battle cries as they charge down her cheeks. Tears threaten me as well, as I wonder what prompted the outburst. Jeremy tries to say something to me, as expressed in him opening and shutting his mouth. My head continues to tremble, my vision blurring as my tears raged on.

Before I know it, all four of us have been sobbing our hearts out for the past hour. We've confessed our jealousies, and told the things we would force to be different. Our hearts have become tender with outcry and our minds tired with thought.

"Rebekah, we better get ready for class," Chasey states, scurrying to gather their books. I jump up and follow in their steps, gathering my law textbook, notebook, and pencil bag before hopping out the door. Chasey and I scurry across the campus, right on each other's heels to get to class. As the bell rings, our seats are filled as we jump into our seats. I sigh, content with being on time for once. Mr. Kinsley, our professor, stalks into the classroom. The teacher's copy of the textbook slams onto the front desk.

"Do you know how many failed tests I had to grade?" Mr. Kinsley asks. "Three hundred and four. That's how many of my law students failed the most recent exam. Only ten passed, and only three excelled. Rebekah Bronce, congratulations on being one of the three students that excelled." My peers turned to stare at me as Mr. Kinsley singled me out. He never seems to want to congratulate his students, and this was the first exception.

"Thank you sir," I respond, trembling as my stomach gurgles it's fearful lament.

"For what?" questions Mr. Kinsley. "You're the one who took it on yourself to ensure you passed."

"Sir," I managed, "I've never been singled out for doing well. I appreciate it." He nods, and begins separating the tests based on seating.

"People on the ends, when you hear your row, come get the whole rows tests. Rows one through ten," Mr. Kinsley projects. Ten people shuffle forwards, each snatching about twenty tests from Mr. Kinley. The system continues as I check over some notes.

Then, it hits me. Not my test, which hits my desk, but something else. If I continue doing well, I'll probably be one of the few actually graduating. I smile to myself, hopeful I've done something right.

"You're on the right path Bronce," Mr. Kinsley bellows. I jump, not expecting the sudden noise. Mr. Kinsley chuckles before proceeding in his process. Looking over my test, I notice the long answer essays I responded with make no sense.

Luckily, I didn't have to go straight to Mr. Kinsley. We have two law professors, so that more people are deterred from going into law. Unfortunately, the other professor, Mrs. Paton, doesn't tend to answer emails.

"Miss Bronce, stay after the second release bell," demands Mr. Kinsley. As the bell rings, all the other students prance out of the door. I march to Mr. Kinsley's desk, my legs buckling more than cooked noodles.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I ask. Mr. Kinsley tenderly places the lesson plans down.

"I have a case for you," Mr. Kinsley states.

"Excuse me?" I stutter.

"There's a case against the school," Mr. Kinsley explains. "I want you on the prosecuting court."

"Sir, with all due respect," I mutter firmly. "Don't you think the school wouldn't appreciate one of their students opposing them?"

"That's part of why you're needed to be one of the prosecutors," retorts Mr. Kinsley. "The school has decided to expel one of the accounting students, Jamey, for supposedly having intercourse with another female student."

"What does this have to do with me?" I ask, my stomach churning more than the sea.

"It has come to my attention that you want to graduate early," Mr. Kinsley says, "The school has agreed that any law student who opposes them and wins gets to graduate early."

"With your permission," I said. "I'd like to think over the case." Mr. Kinsley smirked, slapping his hand on the desk.

"Alright," Mr. Kinsley states. "You have two days, after class. That's all the time I'm allowed to give you."

"Thank you sir," I stammer. I stand up, my vision sparkling as I stand straight up. Pushing through my lightheadedness, I scramble out of Mr. Kinsley's classroom. Rushing back to the dorm room, I ignored Chasey and Abby to jump in my bed. Laying on my stomach, I press my face into my pillow.

"Rebekah," Chasey starts. "Are you alright?"

"No," I said, lifting my face from my bed. "I'm not alright." Chasey sits on the other side of my bed, placing their hand on my calf, messaging my screaming muscles.

"What's wrong?" questions Chasey. "Does it have to do with Mr. Kinsley?"

"Mr. Kinsley wanted to ask me to prosecute the school," I answered.

"Why would Mr. Kinsley want you to prosecute the school?" ponders Chasey.

"The administrators expelled Jamey. He wants me to defend her," I respond.

"Why did they expel her?" asks Chasey.

"You remember when Katherine said she heard that rumor about Jamey?" I ask, Chasey nodding rambunctiously. "That's why she got expelled." Chasey furrows their brows, as if they were contemplating their next words very carefully.

"What else did Mr. Kinsley say?" they ask.

"He told me the school is offering an early graduation to any of the law students who defy them and win," I retort.

"Haven't you wanted to be a lawyer since you were little?" ponders Chasey.

"I do, and I did, but not at the expense of defying my school," I responded. Chasey nods, furrowing their brows even further.

"You should do it. It will give your regard a boost," Chasey states. I shake my head, my heart panging in panic.

"I don't want to risk anything," I whisper.

"If you don't you won't be getting where you want to be," insists Chasey.

"Alright," I submit. "I'll email Mr. Kinsley that I'm taking the case."

Little did I know, that would be the beginning of my career as one of the proudest queer lawyers in New York. I would go on to protect the lives of multiple LGBT people, from minors to those walking close to their death beds.