The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(60)

My house is on the way to Bo’s from David’s place, so I get up the nerve to ask him for a ride. I feel okay about David knowing where I live, since I know he won’t judge. It’s not that I think Bo would judge me, it’s just . . . different. David lives on the Navajo res. There aren’t many Bo-sized houses there.

David honks when his old blue pickup truck pulls up outside my house. I hop into the passenger seat and close the door. It’s a lighter door than I expected, so it shuts a little hard. David gasps.

“Be careful with Tootsie! She’s too old to be getting her doors slammed.” Apparently, his truck’s name is Tootsie.

“Sorry . . . why Tootsie?”

“She just looks like a Tootsie, don’t you think?” He smiles, patting the steering wheel endearingly.

“You know what, yeah, she does.” I can’t explain it, but it somehow makes sense.

We spend the ride listening to metalcore. Well, I’m more listening to David screaming and drumming on the steering wheel than the actual music. I have no idea how people get their voices to do that, but it’s pretty impressive.

When we finally get to Bo’s house, her dad opens the door and waves us both inside.

“Come on in!” He jogs back to the kitchen, leaving the door open for us.

“Hi! So nice to see you two!” Bo’s mom flicks off the living room TV and hops off the couch to greet us.

“Bo! Our friends are here!” her dad calls from the kitchen.

“My friends, Dad!” Bo shouts from somewhere upstairs. It’s only a few seconds before she comes scampering down the steps, wearing baggy denim overalls with one shoulder strap down. The white crop top underneath shows just a hint of skin on her sides. Exposed side torso skin = the sexiest part of the lesbian anatomy. Who the hell gave her permission to look this cute?

Bo’s dad doesn’t give me a chance to get all tongue-tied, since he immediately herds us toward the dining room table. After he sits us down, he dances his way into the kitchen, even though there’s no music playing. My mom would never have people over with no music on, so it feels like something’s missing.

“Don’t worry, kids, Rick’s pies are the best,” Bo’s mom says as we all sit.

“He’s so embarrassing . . .” Bo covers her face, but she’s laughing.

“Are you kidding? Your dad is the best!” David says.

Bo rolls her eyes, and her dad walks over, masterfully carrying three pies in his two arms.

The wait during the time it takes him to put down, cut, and serve the pies is excruciating. If it was my mom, we’d all be serving ourselves, which I prefer, since I can control when I stuff my face with beautiful pie. This is the “proper” way, though, apparently.

David, Bo, and I are shoveling pie into our mouths for a good minute before any of us are ready for civil conversation. While we’re eating, all I can hear is the sound of pie being cut and silverware clinking on plates until Bo’s dad breaks the silence.

“So, any plans for the rest of winter break?”

“I’ll be helping my dad out with work,” David says while chewing.

“That’ll be fun, I’m sure,” Bo’s mom says.

“Tile installation. Super fun,” he says with a smirk.

“What about you, Yamilet?” Bo’s mom asks.

I take a big bite of pie instead of answering. Classy, I know. Not a good solution, since I eventually have to chew and swallow, and answer the question.

“Um, I’m not doing anything.”

“What? No Christmas plans?” Bo’s dad asks, and her mom steps on him under the table. He jumps a little. “Sorry, holiday plans?” It’s refreshing, because they know we go to a Catholic school, but they still don’t expect us to celebrate.

“No . . .” I don’t have the energy to make up a lie, so I tell them. “My mom and Cesar are going to Mexico to visit my dad for Cesar’s birthday, but I didn’t want to go.”

Bo’s dad gasps out loud. “You’ll be all by yourself for Christmas?” Another kick under the table.

“Yeah. We do celebrate Christmas, but . . .” I have to be mindful with my breathing in order to keep from choking up. I can’t tell them about my dad without explaining everything. “I have a big project for chemistry, so I have to stay home and work on it.”

Bo’s head tilts like a confused puppy, and David looks at me like he knows I’m lying. Shit. They have the same teacher, so they know there’s no big project. To their credit, they don’t blow my cover.

“Oh, honey . . .” Bo’s mom reaches over the table and grabs my hand. “You’re more than welcome to spend break with us! I don’t want you spending your break all alone.”

“Really?” I look at Bo, not her parents. It’s her I want to make sure is cool with this. I’ve never stayed at anyone’s house for more than a weekend, and if she still has a girlfriend, things might be a little weird. I should probably ask about that at some point, but I’m afraid I’d sound gay about it. An unreadable expression flashes across Bo’s face, and her cheeks flush before she smiles.

“Of course!” both her parents answer. I raise my eyebrows at Bo, urging an answer out of her. I would understand if she didn’t want me at her house for two weeks straight.