The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(29)

I roll my eyes and change the subject. “Remember that guy who is apparently my boyfriend? Mom wants him to come over for dinner Friday.”

“Oh . . .”

“I got you. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend’s girlfriend, but only if you tell me everything.” I sit cross-legged on his bed and rest my face on my palms, ready for story time.

“You can’t just put me on the spot! I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Ask me a question or something.”

“Fine. What did he give you?” With Cesar’s track record, I’m still not 100 percent convinced it was something innocent, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Seriously? How long were you watching us?”

“Like two seconds, chill! I was trying to warn you that Mom was coming.”

“Yeah, thanks for the heads-up,” he mutters. Ungrateful little asshole.

“Excuse me, I just saved your ass. You’re welcome.” I get up to leave, hoping he’ll stop me before I have to commit to pretending to be mad. I want details.

“Wait, no, thank you. It was a promise ring.” He sucks in his bottom lip to hold back a grin. I drop my jaw in a wide smile, hopping back on the bed.

“Let me see! Are you gonna wear it?”

He pulls a ring out of his pocket. It’s a black-and-silver band with a jaguar symbol on it. Perfect for Cesar.

“I can’t wear it. I’m not out. . . .” He rubs the ring between his thumb and index finger and looks down.

“Did you tell him?”

“He knows. He said he wants me to have it anyway, and I can wear it whenever I’m ready. He’ll be waiting a good minute for me to put it on, though.”

“Aww!” I hold back an excited squeak. Jamal is a sweetheart. “How long have you been together?”

“A year today.” Cesar doesn’t do so well hiding his grin this time.

“A YEAR?” I never pictured Cesar as a committed relationship type, but a year is a long time. I can’t believe how oblivious I’ve been. Or how good at hiding it he’s been.

“It’s an anniversary present.” His cheeks flush.

I resist the urge to pinch them because I want him to know I’m taking this seriously. Inside I’m all rainbows and happy squeals. “What’s he like? Is he good to you?”

Sheesh. I sound like my dad.

“Yes. Don’t be weird.”

“Okay, okay.” I throw my hands up in surrender. “Just know if he hurts you, I’ll tell Mom he hurt me and we’ll tag-team him for you.”

“Yeah, I’m not worried about that.” He laughs.

“You should be! I’m serious, I will fight him.” I know Cesar thinks I’m a weakling because I’ve never been in a fight. But he’s wrong. I could kick some serious ass. Probably.

“No, I mean that wouldn’t happen. You don’t have to worry about Jamal.”

“I better not.” I give him my best I love you but I mean business look.

“You’re too much.” Cesar rolls his eyes.

I want to keep joking with him, but now I’m getting this sinking feeling in my gut.

“Cesar, is that why you got . . . um, picked on?” I don’t want to say “jumped,” because it feels too heavy for the moment. “Because of your sexuality?”

Cesar sighs. “I mean, I’m not out, but some dudes got ahold of a note I wrote for Jamal. Thankfully, they didn’t know it was to him. But I don’t want to get into it right now. It’s really no big deal. It’s not like the whole school knew or anything.” He looks away, avoiding my eyes.

I can’t believe Cesar and I both got outed at Rover, and neither of us had any idea. I guess it’s nice that rumors die fast there, but at the same time, I wish we could have been there for each other. I want to shake him and tell him it is a big deal. I want to yell that it’s not fair, and he deserves better. Instead, I say something I rarely ever say.

“I love you.”

“That’s gay,” Cesar whispers. Touché.

School on Friday goes by way too fast. All I can think about is Jamal coming over for dinner. Now that I’m home, I’m even more nervous. Mom has to buy it.

She makes me clean up all our jewelry supplies before he gets here. I guess having wires and beads and crystals everywhere is too messy for guests. She turns on her cumbia playlist while I clean and she cooks. The smell of chicken and the slight hint of chocolate in the mole feel as much a part of the music as the drum.

It’s just Jamal, but Mom always wants to have background music when we have people over. I like having the music to loosen the mood a little. Jamal shows up at six p.m. on the dot. Mom gives me an impressed look before she dances over to the door, then goes into scary mom mode. She stares at Jamal for two excruciatingly long seconds. He pretends not to be fazed, but he has to be. He holds out his hand and smiles.

“Hi, Mrs. Flores. How are you?”

“Mijo, we don’t do handshakes in this house.” She pulls him in for a hug. So much for the tough mom act. She tries, but she can’t resist letting all her love overflow. She’s not the best at pretending to be hard. I take after her like that.

Jamal keeps giving Cesar goo-goo eyes whenever my mom isn’t looking. I try not to notice that they’re playing footsie under the table. It’s almost like they want Mom to catch them. Jamal is the worst at pretending to be straight. They’re in luck, though, since she has a notoriously terrible gaydar, with a very low success rate so far.