The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(50)

Bo catches my eye from the pew across from me. She widens her eyes and sticks out her tongue, making me giggle. Then I notice her backpack has a new pin on it. Next to her rainbow one is a heart-shaped pin with the lesbian flag’s pink stripes. I can’t believe I ever doubted she was gay. I wonder if Jamie got her that pin. God, I’m annoying myself with my fixation on Bo and Jamie.

For once I’m happy to hear the priest’s confession spiel, because it distracts me from my thoughts, even though I’m not particularly looking forward to telling all my secrets to some old guy I don’t know. Why does some priest have to be my middleman?

If there’s a God, I would hope I could keep my business between the two of us. Still, I’d prefer not to be damned to hell just because I skip out of formally telling my sins to a priest to pass it on to the all-knowing entity he worships. I start thinking about all the sins I’ve committed since my last confession. Being gay. Drinking at a party. Flicking Cesar just because I feel like it . . . Being gay.

Mom has made us go twice a year ever since we were seven, but it’s not like I can stop being gay after confession. I wonder how the rules work when your “sin” is a constant thing. If confession is supposed to absolve me, it’s not working. The day after every confession, I’m always gay all over again. Based on the way the rules have been explained to me, that means the only way I can get into heaven is if I spontaneously die the moment the priest absolves me.

I guess I wasn’t paying attention, because I somehow missed whatever the priest said that made Bo stand and argue with him. That’s right. Bo is arguing with a priest in front of half the school. I knew she had balls, but damn.

“I just don’t see why I have to apologize for being exactly the way God made me,” she says.

“The sin lies in the action and the thoughts. Because sex outside of the sacrament of marriage is a sin.”

“But gay marriage is legal. So it’s not a sin if you’re married then.” She crosses her arms. Everyone’s heads dart back and forth from Bo to the priest as they argue. I guess they’re all as surprised as I am about this. I can feel Hunter’s eyes on me every now and then, like he’s trying to gauge my reaction. I look for Cesar in the crowd so we can have a little telepathic solidarity. I find him, and I almost laugh at how sweaty and pale he looks. He looks like he ate a moldy Rover chicken nugget. He didn’t seem sick this morning, but he definitely looks it now.

“It may be legal in the eyes of the United States, but not in the eyes of God.”

Cesar isn’t looking back and forth between the priest and Bo like everyone else, so I can’t get him to make eye contact with me. His eyes are shut and his lips are moving as he silently mutters what I assume is a prayer. How he can find prayer more interesting than Bo telling off a priest is lost on me. He eventually crosses himself and opens his eyes, but he still looks miserable as hell. He really does buy into the whole religion thing. Good for him, I guess. I go back to watching Bo.

“Why?” she snaps.

The priest pauses for a minute.

“Because the Bible has written it so.”

“Where? Don’t cite the Old Testament at me, since our uniforms are made from mixed fabrics. Another sin, according to the Old Testament.”

“Romans 1:26 and 1:27. ‘For this reason God gave them—’”

“‘Up to vile passions,’ blah blah. I know the passage.” Someone gasps when Bo interrupts. “It’s about adultery, not homosexuality in the context of committed partners. You can’t put us through a year of scripture class and expect us to learn only the convenient parts.”

I wish Bo had a mic so she could drop it right there. I clap my hands for two seconds before I realize what I’m doing. Bo catches my eye and sucks in her lips like she’s trying not to laugh. Then my stomach drops as I realize everyone’s looking at me now. Hunter claps a few times, and I think since we’re sitting so close people assumed it was him who clapped first. Bless Hunter. I’ve never wanted to hug someone more.

“Ms. Taylor, you have five seconds to sit down, or you’ll be escorted to the principal’s office,” one of the teachers on the edge of Bo’s pew scolds as he stands up.

“You don’t have to escort me.” Bo walks out of the church on her own.

“You okay?” Hunter whispers when the priest starts talking again.

I nod. I’m better than okay. Bo knows how to contextualize things for me. She’s right. The Bible says a whole lot of things that the Catholic church kind of just ignores. Why get so hung up over this one detail? I can’t explain why, but I feel like I’m floating.

We start lining up by the confessionals, one pew at a time. Some people leave looking relieved, and some leave crying, which is super intimidating. It tells me I’m not the only one here who’s carried their body weight in shame. I’m done with that, though. When Cesar comes out, he looks like he’s about to throw up, and I wonder if he’s sick today. He hasn’t been looking too hot since we got to the chapel.

When it’s my turn to confess, my legs don’t even shake as I walk inside the confessional.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I start. “This is my . . . um . . . I don’t know how many confessions I’ve done. But it’s a lot.”