The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(16)

“It’s my third day ever. I know nothing.” It comes out snappier than I meant it to, and Bo looks a little thrown. I guess the stress of not having friends is getting to me. I’m actually glad she’s still sitting with me. I smile at her to let her know I’m 100 percent approachable and talk-to-able. I look down to see a pin on her backpack that has Homophobia is GAY in rainbow letters. I have to actively stop myself from clutching my chest to keep my heart in place. I want that pin. I want the unapologetic self-confidence that comes with having a pin like that.

Of everyone I’ve met here, Bo’s my favorite. Rainbow Vans, rainbow pins, khakis. I think it’s safe to say she’s one of my people. I shouldn’t make assumptions, though. Not when everything at this school is as weird as it is. Maybe she’s an “ally”?

I want to comment on the pin, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m not supposed to feel any kind of solidarity based on that pin. So maybe she’s gay. That’s great for her. Not me. As far as Bo is concerned, I’m straight as a pencil. Straight, straight, straight.

We don’t have time to talk about gay pins anyway, because Mrs. Havens is ready to start.

“We’re going to be practicing our debating skills this week!”

She picks six people and has them debate random subjects, on the spot. Bo is in the first debate group. Karen happens to be debating the opposite side of Bo. So, naturally, I’m all about the US abolishing daylight savings time, or whatever it is Bo is supposed to be arguing for. I don’t understand half of what they’re saying, but that doesn’t mean it’s not entertaining.

Bo claps her hands with each word. “Daylight. Savings. Is. Arbitrary!”

“It saves energy!” Some guy slams his hands on his desk to emphasize his point. People get into it, and I don’t blame them. I’m as competitive as anyone, so I’m sure I’ll be the same way. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the “right” way to do an academic debate, but Mrs. Havens didn’t give any instruction, and she’s not correcting anyone.

I’m in the next group, and honestly, I’m a little pumped. Bo killed Karen on that daytime savings shit. At least, I’m pretty sure she did. Emily’s in the group I’m arguing against, so I’m about to follow Bo’s example and go in on whatever topic Mrs. Havens gives us. I sit tall in one of the desks in the front. Let’s go.

“This group’s topic is”—Mrs. Havens drumroll-slaps her thighs—“should gay marriage be legal?”

I try not to visibly flinch. This is a topic I refuse to get up in arms over. Not here, where they’ll clock me over it.

“Are you serious? It’s already legal.” Bo stands from her desk before I know which side I’m supposed to be arguing.

“Ms. Taylor, sit down, please.” Mrs. Havens sighs, like this is a normal occurrence.

Bo stands firmly in place. “I’m not going to sit down while you argue about what rights should or shouldn’t be denied to an entire group of people. There are more appropriate topics to debate.”

“Speaking of what’s appropriate, Ms. Taylor, sit down.” Mrs. Havens is glowing red, instead of her usual orange. It’s glorious.

“Choose a different topic.” Bo crosses her arms.

Please, please choose a different topic.

“It seems to always be you who has a problem with the way I teach my class, Ms. Taylor. I don’t see anyone else complaining.” Mrs. Havens gestures to the rest of the class, but I feel like she’s pointing directly at me. I can’t look at her, or Bo. “If you refuse to participate in class, you can go to Principal Cappa’s office.” She points to the door.

“Fine.” Bo grabs her bag and storms out. I want to leave with her. I’d rather go to the principal’s office than stay here, but I still can’t seem to move.

The other side is arguing for separation of church and state. Like the only way they can accept me is through excommunication. The Catholic church has no problem taking all my money, but they don’t really want me. I’ll never be able to get married through the church, like my mom’s always wanted.

I don’t know if I even want to get married. I mean, I’m only sixteen, so I don’t exactly spend a lot of time thinking about it. But one day, who knows? I’d like to think it could at least be an option. Today, I’m supposed to be arguing against that.

If I’d eaten breakfast, it would be making its way back up my throat. I feel like everyone’s staring at me. Like they all know I want to run away. Like they know I’m gay.

I’m hyperaware of every part of my body. I have to look unbothered. I stay sitting upright and try to focus on breathing without looking like I’m trying to focus on breathing.

Chill, Yami.

My throat is unusually tight, which makes that a little difficult. Is it normal to be able to feel your pulse in your ears? It doesn’t matter. I’ll take hearing my pulse over hearing my peers argue about whether I’m an abomination. Somehow, I’m hearing both.

Homosexuality is sin.

It’s not natural!

A child needs a mother and a father!

What’s next, we legalize bestiality? Pedophilia?

I don’t want to think too deeply about what that last comment means. That they see me as an animal. A predator. Even someone who I called my best friend felt that way. I can’t think about it, or I’ll crack in front of everyone. I let the argument fade to the background and focus on the corner of my desk, where someone drew a bunch of little hearts. They make my face hotter. If I had my pencil, I’d scribble over them until the whole corner was nothing but a vortex of gray.