The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(62)

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that! I was just curious.”

“You’re good.”

Now we’re sitting in awkward silence, and I can’t figure out how to change the subject. Bo’s whole mood changed when I brought Jamie up. She must really miss her. I’m totally not jealous. The silence between me and Bo right now makes me completely not jealous of how she probably doesn’t have awkward silences like this with Jamie. I miss my mom’s cumbia music filling the quiet. I even miss Do?a Violeta’s weepy music. How am I supposed to cheer myself up if there’s no music?

“Don’t you guys ever listen to music?” I ask. Bo listens to her headphones sometimes, but there’s never music playing out loud. I don’t have headphones, so I sort of hate when she has them on instead of sharing her music with me.

“What? Of course we do.”

“Do you have a rule against playing it in the house or something?” I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I genuinely don’t know if there’s some bigger reason they don’t play it.

“Um, no?”

“Well then, do you have a speaker or something? I’m having withdrawals.”

“Yeah! One sec.” Bo hops off the couch and goes to her room. She comes back out with a Bluetooth speaker. She puts it on the table and sets it up with her phone. “What do you want to listen to?”

“You can pick. I just need some noise in here.”

“You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“Promise.” I doubt her playlist could be cheesier than mine—a random mix of Disney music, reggaetón, cumbia, and musical soundtracks.

“Actually, you know what? If you can honestly tell me this doesn’t make you want to dance, then you can make fun of me. But that’s not gonna happen,” she says. I don’t know how, but she got me feeling better before even starting the music.

She presses play and starts dancing. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“Disco?”

“What’s wrong with disco??”

“Nothing, it’s just not what I expected.”

“Fact: the fall of disco is the direct result of homophobia and racism. As a Gaysian, I take full offense to that.” Bo flops on the floor in what looks like an attempt at a shablam to emphasize her point. Then she gets up and starts jumping and spinning in circles.

I don’t know why I expected Bo to be a good dancer. She seems perfect in every way because she’s such a badass at—I thought—everything. But this is one thing I definitely have her beat on. I’m not sure why she asked me not to make fun of her. She’s clearly not afraid of my judgment.

She points at me as if to invite me to dance with her, but I’d rather watch. Then she swings a fake lasso and pretends to reel me in.

I have no choice.

I’m pulled off the couch against my will, and just like that, I’m bouncing and twirling around with her. I feel like we’re in a nightclub in space—that’s the vibe I get from disco. It seriously needs a revival.

Bo grabs my hands, and for some reason the music keeps me from overthinking it. We start spinning around each other until everything but Bo seems to whirl around the room. Like she’s the only constant thing around. She throws her head back in laughter and holds onto my hands tighter to compensate for the picked-up speed. Then I trip over a clump of air, sending both of us toppling in opposite directions, giggling hysterically over the music.

I like how Bo can make me forget about stuff. I don’t have to worry about what other people think, and I can enjoy being around her without thinking about everything else going on. I don’t think about my dad or Cesar until the sun goes down, when I check Marco Polo to find nothing. Cesar hasn’t watched my video yet, so at least he didn’t leave me on read like Dad did. I sent him another video for his birthday earlier today, but he didn’t respond to that one either.

The sound of the garage door opening brings me out of my sulking. Bo and I go downstairs to say hi, but her mom doesn’t look too happy.

“Rick, can you please do the dishes? I’m working all day and I don’t appreciate coming home to a dirty sink.”

I want to disappear. I feel like I shouldn’t be witnessing anyone’s family arguments, but they don’t seem to mind that I’m here. Rick, who’s watching TV in the living room, doesn’t answer.

“Hello?? Did you not hear me?”

He still doesn’t say anything, and this time Bo steps in. “Dad, Mom’s calling you.”

“Relax, babe, I’m on it,” Rick finally calls out as he turns off the TV.

“You could at least answer me so I’m not talking to myself.”

“Well, I’m so sorry I don’t respond well to nagging.”

Bo clears her throat, which seems to remind her parents that they have an audience. Bo’s dad turns red and gives a quick apology and gets to the dishes while her mom seems to notice Bo for the first time since she got home. She holds her arms out for a hug, and Bo runs into it, holding her mom tight. It’s not like a regular hi, Mom hug, but a real one, squeezing and everything. I always thought Bo wasn’t really a hugger, but I guess she is? Maybe it’s just with family. I haven’t had a hug since Mom and Cesar left. I miss my mom’s hugs. I might be touch-starved at the moment. Ugh. Guess I’m not done sulking.