The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(24)

6


Thou Shalt Procure a Pseudo Suitor


I guess I don’t actually hate Slayton. I don’t love it either, but after about a month, I’ve gotten used to it. It’s not even October yet, but it feels like I’ve been here longer. I like the food. I like my friends. Cesar isn’t fighting. He even has tons of friends who would probably defend him if anyone tried to put a hand on him, which is a comforting thought. Plus, his grades are up despite his constant sleeping in class. I guess if I was that smart, I’d get bored enough to fall asleep too. I try not to let it get to me that he sleeps in class every day and still gets better grades than I do.

I can’t keep him from falling asleep in class, but the football lie is working out better than I expected. Mom’s more than happy to take the extra hour of work and pick us up after he’s done with practice—aka detention—and she’s way too busy to catch on. She’ll eventually want to come to a game, but that’s a problem for future Yami and Cesar.

As usual, Bo and Amber join me at a table in the courtyard and get out their textbooks. We make it a habit most days to sit here and do homework or draw after school. Since Cesar’s in detention almost every freaking day, I spend a lot of time here. I tried asking him why he’s always sleeping in class, but he shrugged me off. In accordance with the unspoken rule, I didn’t pry. I guess he has insomnia or something. With all the time I spend waiting outside for him (since Karen and her boyfriend are always in the library after school), I know I’m starting to get a gnarly T-shirt tan.

After a while of failing to understand my math homework, I switch to an art assignment that requires less thinking. The prompt is “insecurity.” Whatever that means. Ms. Felix says art is subjective, so as long as I have something to turn in, I’ll be fine. I could make a freaking earring and bring it in if I wanted to. But I don’t want to waste Mom’s supplies.

A fourth guest joins us. He doesn’t get any homework out.

“Hey, mind if I sit with you guys?”

“Hey, Hunter. Sure,” Bo says. She gives him a questioning look as he walks around the table to sit by me, even though there was an empty space next to Amber.

“Cool drawing. You’re really talented, Yamilet.”

“Thanks!” I grin. I’m not the most talented artist in the world, but I’m getting the hang of things. I’m sketching a picture of myself as a secret agent, Men in Black style. I love the idea of being a secret agent or a spy. I sort of feel like I already am one, with all the lying I do. Being a spy is a cooler way of living that life, though. I can present compartmentalized versions of myself to each person I know, and no one needs to know about my undercover identity.

Amber leans toward Hunter with her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand. “What did we humble peasants do to deserve your company?”

Hunter blushes for a second. I wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t so white, since he gains his composure real fast. He gives me a subtle half smile.

Bo raises her eyebrows at Amber, then winks at me when Hunter isn’t looking. I guess Karen and them aren’t the only ones who think Hunter and I are a thing. Still, I wish she’d stop winking at me, because it gives me feelings.

“Um, so Yamilet . . .” Hunter wrings his hands as he talks. “I like hanging out with you in art. I thought maybe we could hang out, like, outside of art sometime. Maybe you could come watch football practice instead of hanging out here? You know, if you’re bored.” Did I hear that right? He invited me not to watch a football game, but to watch him practice? That counts as hanging out? I swear I don’t understand straight people.

“Um . . . wouldn’t that be kind of boring, too?”

He laughs. “Oh, I mean, did I say practice? I meant homecoming.”

“What?” This is not happening.

“What? Shut up.” He’s red again.

“Did you just tell her to shut up?” Amber snaps.

“No! I meant, me shut up. I was just kidding about homecoming. Unless . . . you want—”

Bo covers up her laugh with a cough. I don’t know how this happened. It’s not like I know Hunter that well, though I guess that never stops guys from making moves.

Actually . . . maybe this is an opportunity for me. If Hunter is my date, no one will think I’m gay. But then again, wouldn’t it be messed up to use him like that? I can’t imagine how pretending to like someone who likes me could end well for anyone involved.

“Sorry, she’s got plans,” Amber cuts in. I must have taken way too long to answer, because she’s giving me a you’re welcome kind of look.

“Right. Yeah, I have plans. I’ll watch the homecoming game, though?”

“Oh, no problem! Sure, sounds awesome.” He bounces back from the rejection real quick with the promise of an audience for the game. In fact, I can almost feel his spirit’s fist pump. “Well, I’ll see you guys later.”

He salutes us and then literally runs away, but I’m hoping that’s just because he’s late to practice. I swear I don’t understand how he’s popular. Catholic school is a trip.

Cesar jogs out to us right when he gets let out and jogs in place by our table, probably trying to get sweaty before Mom gets us. Amber and Bo laugh. I already filled them in on Cesar pretending to be on the football team, so his random exercising is more entertaining than confusing.