The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(49)

“These are really pretty. . . .” Jamal eyes my creations, and I take the opportunity to do so myself. The friendship bracelets all have different color palettes, from desert sunset to cotton candy to jungle flowers. The angular patterns feel like they belong in a Mexican calle being sold to anyone passing by.

“Thanks.” The thought makes me grin. These look legit.

“Do you need any help?” Jamal asks.

I put down the strings I was tying and stretch out my cramped fingers. It would take me way too long to teach him how to make the friendship bracelets, but maybe he can help me make some extra things while I catch up.

“Can you start cutting these threads for me? Ten inches each.” I try not to grin too hard when he picks up the ruler and gets right to work.

“Sorry about the other day,” he says as he measures out a thread. “I thought you knew Cesar told me. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad for not being out.”

“I don’t feel bad,” I say, too quickly. Almost defensively.

“Okay, that’s good. You shouldn’t. It’s all on your own timeline.” He stops for a moment to look up at me. There he goes again getting all serious. “And you’re not a coward, okay? I don’t think Cesar meant it like that. You’re smart.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re smart for being guarded. I was stupid to come out.”

I immediately feel bad for snapping at him. Here I am, sulking about the possibility of getting kicked out, while Jamal is living it.

“I’m so sorry. . . .” I don’t know how else to comfort him. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not that smart. I came out to my dad.”

“How’d he take it?”

“He still hasn’t responded . . . if he tells my mom, I might get kicked out, too.”

“Nah, let me stop you there. I don’t know your dad, but your mom is way too nice. She wouldn’t do that to you.”

Except Jamal doesn’t know that.

Before I can say anything else, Cesar squishes himself between us.

“Food’s ready,” he says, grinning proudly.

“That’s my boy. I’m watching you two!” My mom points two fingers at her eyes, and then at me and Jamal. It’s funny how completely wrong she is.

After dinner, Cesar reluctantly agrees to help me since Jamal wants to, and with the three of us working, I don’t even have to stay up late to meet my productivity goal before school tomorrow.

On Monday, my luck seems to continue. We have a half day of classes to celebrate the sacrament of Confession. Once a year, almost the entire student body has to confess their sins to the priest. While some kids opt out, they still have to go to the assembly. Those kids get to sit in the back and don’t actually have to do anything. My mom would die of a heart attack if she realized we opted out, so Cesar and I participate. The upperclassmen are the last to go to church, so we had shorter classes through the morning before getting let out.

My teeth chatter as I walk to the chapel, and I wish I’d gone for the pants instead of the skirt this morning. It’s finally starting to get cold. Well, cold for the desert. It’s the beginning of December and the leaves are barely starting to change colors. I’m always complaining about the heat, but I was definitely not built for cold weather. Hunter finds me right after class as everyone walks to the chapel and jogs over to me.

“Hey, Yamilet!” I pretend I don’t hear and keep walking. He catches up to me, like I’m sure what happened at the party will catch up to me. I’ve been successfully avoiding him for weeks now. But I didn’t see him coming this time.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks.

“No.” Lie. Obviously.

“Okay, good. Well . . . um . . . I wanted to talk about . . . um . . .” He throws an arm around my shoulder and starts whispering, “You know, what happened at the homecoming party . . .”

I squint at him.

“I know I promised you I wouldn’t say anything, but—”

“Who did you tell?” I stop walking and shrug his arm off my shoulder. I knew I couldn’t trust Hunter.

“No one! I was just gonna say, you know one of my secrets, too. And . . . I would really appreciate it if you also didn’t tell.”

“What?” My memory of that night is a little blurry.

“That I’m a . . . you know.” He whispers the last word. “Virgin.”

“Oh!” A grin pulls at my lips. He won’t tell anyone about me because I have leverage on him. Not that I would ever tell anyone, but the fact that he thinks I might calms my nerves. It means I’m safe, at least from Hunter. I grab his arm and pull it back over my shoulder. I could use the extra warmth. “Yeah, I got you.”

We sit next to each other in the chapel, and it doesn’t feel like he’s just being nice because I have potential blackmail material on him. It feels like he’s being nice, period. Maybe I need to stop thinking of secrets as leverage. But it’s hard to get out of that mindset when my biggest one was used against me.

Not just the gay thing, either. Bianca knew everything about me. Looking back, it was always a matter of time before she got mad and let it all slip. Bianca is a special breed of evil. The kind of evil that preys on trust, on vulnerability, on something real. The kind of evil that makes you love them first.