The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(86)

I don’t get out of bed for anything except to go to the bathroom. And I can’t use the bathroom Cesar and I share. I can’t look at that bloody poem. So I use my mom’s bathroom instead. The landline rings, but I ignore it. I throw myself on my mom’s bed. All I want to do is sleep, but the damn house phone keeps ringing. It’s probably my mom calling to yell some more, so I pull a pillow over my head and pray for the ringing to stop.

When she calls a third time, I throw the pillow and stomp over to the kitchen to answer it.

“What do you want?” I shout.

“Yami, it’s Jamal.” He’s crying. “Please tell me Cesar’s okay. He’s not answering his phone.”

“He doesn’t have it.” I sniffle. I have no idea what to say. Because no, he’s not okay. I don’t know what Cesar would want me telling Jamal, either. Would he be mad if I told Jamal he went to Horizon? I kind of wish I did look at Cesar’s phone now, so I’d have an idea of what to say to Jamal. But Jamal is the one Cesar called, not me.

“But he’s okay? Is he in trouble? Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” is all I can say. I find myself wandering into Cesar’s room. It feels so empty. The whole house does. I see Cesar’s promise ring from Jamal on his nightstand. I’m surprised he still has it.

“Where is he? Can I talk to him?” Jamal sounds so desperate, I can’t leave him in the dark.

“He’s at the behavioral hospital, so he’s only allowed to talk to family right now. I’m sorry.”

“Can you just tell him I’m not mad at him? And I could never hate him. Tell him that for me, okay?”

I close my eyes, pushing out a small, dehydrated tear. “I’ll tell him. Thanks, Jamal.”

“And that I love him,” he blurts out.

“Oh . . . I don’t know if that’ll help him right now. . . .” I want to tell Cesar that, but honestly, with where he’s at, it might not be a good idea for him to be missing his ex right now.

“Just tell him the other stuff, then. Thank you, Yami.” He hangs up.

I lie down on Cesar’s bed, and finally fall asleep.

I don’t want to test my luck with Mom, so I get up when my alarm goes off the next morning. I put on one of Cesar’s oversize school hoodies so the sleeves hide my mutilated knuckles. I use eyedrops to make my eyes less red, and I take extra time doing my makeup. My hand shakes, but it has to be perfect. Perfect eye makeup is the only motivation I have to keep my eyes dry today. They look too good to ruin with tears.

Mom drives me to school, and neither of us acknowledge what happened yesterday. Or the day before.

Bo sits next to me in first hour, and I smile like everything is great, but she’s looking at me all confused.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and I instantly feel guilty.

“Mhm!” I smile again, avoiding her eyes and the subject. I feel like if she looks me in the eye, she’ll just know. I can’t deal with her brujería right now. I might be a little short with her, but it’s only because I don’t want to cry. I’m mostly tight-lipped smiles and nods today.

Hunter, David, and some of Cesar’s other jock friends keep asking me where he is. I tell them he’s sick. I get his homework from his teachers so he doesn’t fall behind. Homework could keep him busy while he’s at Horizon. The classes I have with Bo are the hardest. She’s the only one who seems to notice that anything’s off.

I stare at a blank canvas for most of art class.

“Hey, can we talk, Yami?” Bo touches my shoulder. She should know not to touch me when I’m about to cry, because all I want to do is turn around, get a hug, and sob. But I can’t, so I smile and nod, like I’ve been doing all day.

She steps closer now, so only I can hear her.

“Are you avoiding me?”

I can’t think about Bo’s feelings right now. I can’t deal with any more feelings. I know it looks bad. I know it looks like I’m ghosting her after our kiss. I know it looks like it has something to do with Jamal, my “ex.” But I can’t think about it. I can’t think about Bo being mad at me on top of everything else.

“Yami.” She touches my shoulder again, and I can’t handle it. I shake her hand off and bolt. I grab my bag and run straight to the bathroom without asking Ms. Felix.

First thing I do when I get to the bathroom is take out my makeup.

“No, no, no . . .” My eyeliner is starting to drip. I get a paper towel and wipe the edge of my eye so it doesn’t smear down my cheek. The door starts to open, so I rush into a stall and lock the door before anyone comes inside.

I see rainbow Vans under the stall door. It’s Bo. An ugly sob escapes from the back of my throat against my will. I can’t cry quietly anymore. I hear the stall door next to me open, and the sound of Bo sitting down. It feels like confession. But a priest could never absolve me of my guilt, and neither can Bo.

She reaches under the stall with a literal white flag in her hand: a wad of toilet paper, just like the first time I came in here crying. Of course it was Bo. It’s always Bo. I want to laugh, but I can’t stop crying. I take the toilet paper to blow my nose. Her stall door opens, and she knocks on mine.

I open the door and fall straight into her arms. She stumbles back a little but catches me.