Bright Purple: Color Me Confused with Bonus Content (10 page)

“A different country?”

“Yeah, he’s Jamaican. He came over here on an exchange program with my mom’s parents’ church. He was studying to become a pastor, and my grandparents were his host family. My mom was in her second year of college and, according to her, she had changed a lot after leaving home. you see, her parents were Christians, but extremely religious and extremely conservative, not cool like your parents. So as soon as my mom got away from them she went a little wild.”

He chuckles. “That sounds familiar.”

“Anyway, she said she had this need to rebel against them so that she could find herself, you know? By her second year of college she was smoking pot and drinking and doing pretty much anything she could think of that they wouldn’t approve of, which didn’t sound too difficult since they pretty much didn’t approve of anything.”

Mitch laughs. “Sounds kind of like what my older sister did when she went off to college. Man, my parents freaked big time. But after a couple of years, she straightened up. She married a pretty nice guy, and now everyone seems happy.”

“Well, my mom never straightened up—at least not in the opinion of my grandparents. They’re still estranged.”

“Too bad.”

“Maybe. Anyway, it was Christmas break and my mom went home to visit her parents. And that’s when she met David, the aspiring pastor.”

“The Jamaican exchange student?”

“Yeah. She and David kind of hit it off. My mom said he was really handsome, and she was really pretty then. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, good figure, you know. And they were attracted to each other.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. She’s admitted to me that their little fling might’ve had as much to do with getting back at her parents as it did with liking David. But she also assured me it was mutual. Apparently she didn’t have to do much to lead the poor man astray. Of course, she had never planned on getting pregnant.”

“Her parents must’ve been fuming.”

“She didn’t tell them.”

“Never?”

“Not for a long time. She went back to school and got a job to support herself, got some kind of assistance, and then just kept plugging along until she got her counseling degree.”

“Wow, she must be a pretty strong person.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So have you ever met your father?”

“Nope.”

“Does that bug you?”

“Sometimes. Especially when I was about fourteen. For some reason I got totally obsessed over it. All I had of my father was this faded photograph that Mom gave me of this nice-looking dark-skinned guy standing in front of a Christmas tree. But he seemed like a perfect stranger. I told my mom that I had to meet him, and I almost talked her into letting me go to Jamaica that summer. But then she did a little research and found out that he had become a pastor after all, and he was married and had four children under the ages of seven. She helped me to understand that he hadn’t really abandoned me, since he never knew I existed in the first place. And since I was a Christian by then, well, I decided I had to just forgive him and move on with my life.”

“Wow.”

I shrug. “It’s no big deal, really. I mean it’s just the way it is. you get used to it.”

“What about your grandparents? Did you ever meet them?”

“Yeah. Mom took me out to meet them when I was eight, just before we moved to Greenville. I think she was actually hoping they’d welcome her with open arms, and maybe she’d find a job in her old hometown and we’d settle down there.”

“But they didn’t?”

“Not even close. It was pretty pathetic, really.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah, I think it’s too bad for them. They seem like they’re trapped in this phony-baloney Christian world. I mean I’m a Christian too, but I sure don’t want to be like them. you could tell they were embarrassed by us. Probably me mostly. Anyway, we couldn’t get out of there quick enough.” I take a final sip of my shake and glance at my watch. “Whoa, I better get back or I’m going to be late for French, and this time I don’t have an excuse.”

“Let’s go,” he says, standing quickly. “I’ll drop you by the east wing. If you run, you can probably make it.”

As I run in through a side door, Lauren spies me. She has French during fifth period too, although I was actually hoping to be late enough to avoid seeing her before class.

“Did Mitch take you to lunch?” she asks as we both jog toward the classroom.

“Yeah.”

“Must be nice.”

I glance at her. “Huh?”

“To keep people from thinking anything about you and Jess.”

But now we’re inside the class and it’s too late to respond. Still, I find it hard to concentrate on conjugating verbs as I replay her little comment. Like what did she mean by that? And was it as bitter as it sounded? Finally, class is over and I take Lauren aside.

“What’s up with what you said just before class?” I ask.

She glares at me now. “It’s like you’re just running away from everything, Ramie. And you’re leaving me all by myself, just holding the bag.”

“Holding the bag? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m the only one, besides you, who knows about Jess’s . . . you know, her lesbian thing. How am I supposed to feel?”

“I don’t know.” I stare at her. “How
are
you supposed to feel?” What I want to say is,
What does this have to do with me? Why is this still my problem?
I mean she can’t possibly think that I’m personally responsible for Jess, can she?

“I don’t know what to do, Ramie,” she says, her voice softening some.

“You don’t have to
do
anything,” I point out.

“You mean the way
you
haven’t done anything?” she says, her anger reigniting. “Like you didn’t quit the team, like you didn’t run out and get a boyfriend, like you’re not avoiding all your old friends now? Sheesh, why don’t you just change your name and assume a whole new identity?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, right.”

I really do not deserve this kind of abuse. “Well, I’ve got to get going, or I’m going to be late to health class.”

“You can’t get off this easy, Ramie,” she yells after me. And I wonder what that’s supposed to mean.
Easy?
Like who is she kidding? I feel like I’m walking a tightrope backward and blindfolded with both hands tied behind my back. How is that supposed to be easy?

B
Y THE END OF THE DAY
, I
AM DRAINED
. A
LL
I
CAN THINK IS THAT
I
WANT TO
go home. I don’t even care that I’m not on the basketball team, that I’m not going to practice. All I want is an escape. I don’t even mind that I’ll be riding the stupid school bus. Anything to get out of this place.

I sit close to the door during English, my last class of the day, ready to bolt. Joey Pinckney is sitting in the chair opposite me, on the other side of the door, and he’s looking pretty uncomfortable. I suspect that he’s preparing to dash out of here too. Maybe it’ll be a contest to see who will get out the door first. I wonder if people have heard about him going to the gay alliance meeting too. Is he taking some heat about it? And does his going mean that he’s gay too? I look away, asking myself why I should care.

My main reason for wanting to make a quick exit is because Lauren and Amy are in this class too, and judging by the way they keep glancing at each other, then looking back at me, I suspect they plan to nab me if they can. But I’m a step ahead of them. I already stopped by my locker to get what I need so that I can make a fast break and get out of school altogether.

I keep my eye on the clock and as soon as the second hand goes straight up, before the final bell even starts to ring, I am up and
outta there, sprinting down the hall. Pinckney never had a chance. I can see the side door now, the one that I’ve already chosen to use for my speedy exodus, when I hear a familiar voice.

“Ramie!” she yells. Although I know it’s Jess, I’m surprised that she’s calling my name. Even though I’m slightly curious as to why, I just keep on going, making it almost to the door.

“Ramie!” she yells again, even louder. “Wait!”

Something in me breaks now. I mean Jess is going through some hard stuff right now. Maybe she’s even rethinking this whole thing. Maybe God is finally answering my prayers. So I stop and, catching my breath, I wait.

“We need to talk,” she says when she reaches me.

“Okay.” I hold my backpack in front of my chest, almost as if it’s a shield, and wait for her to say something.

“Why are you doing this?” she finally asks me.

“Huh?”

“Why are you making everything so hard?”

“Me?”

“And I know that you’ve told people.” Her eyes narrow in anger.

“I have
not!”

“Lauren knows.”

“But she—”

“And BJ acts like—”

“I never—”

“Why are you doing this to me, Ramie?” She’s using an overly loud voice now, one that’s sure to draw attention. “We used to be friends. And now you’re treating me like—”

“It’s not my fault,” I tell her. “You’re the one who—”

“I thought I could trust you!” she yells. “I thought you were my friend!”

I can tell that others are watching us now. I even see Joey’s pale, worried face off to one side, not really part of the crowd, but not leaving either. Then I glance to my right and see that Amy and Lauren are about ten feet away, and then BJ joins them. It seems like everyone is just frozen in time, like they’re all just waiting, as if they expect to see some kind of showdown.

“I
was
your friend,” I say quietly to Jess. “But you’ve changed. And that changes everything. Can’t you see that?”

“No!” she yells at me, her dark eyes bright with anger as she shakes her finger in my face. “You’re the one who’s changed, Ramie! I trusted you! And you
outted
me!”

I’m sure I look shocked now. Like does she know what she’s saying? Does she know that people are listening?
“Jess!”
I say in warning, like,
Think about this, think about what you’re saying here.

But she just shakes her head. “I don’t care what people think anymore. I don’t have anything to hide.” Then she turns around and looks at the spectators and yells. “Yeah, that’s right, I’m gay! I’m a homosexual! I’m a lesbian! There! I’m out of the closet! Are you all happy now? Is this what everyone was waiting for? Do you want to take me outside and beat me up now? Do you want to start throwing rocks at me? Do you want to—” And then her face just cracks, like she can’t control it, and suddenly she is crying.

“Jess?” I say in a shaky voice as she stands there, just a few feet away from me but all alone in the center of the hallway. She’s bent over and holding her arms around her midsection as if someone has just shot her in the stomach, loudly sobbing. I’ve never seen Jess cry like this before, and it’s kind of scary. I’m still clutching my backpack to my chest, but I know that I should just drop it, that I should go over and put my arms around her and that I should tell her I’m sorry and that I still love her and that I care about her. But
it’s like my feet are stuck to the floor. I can’t move, I can’t speak. I just can’t.

“Jess,” says Lauren in a compassionate voice, as she slowly comes toward her the way someone might approach a rabid dog. “It’s going to be okay—”

“No!” Jess looks up at her and then at me with a tear-streaked face. “It is
not
okay. It’s never going to be okay.” And then she takes off running in the opposite direction, toward the locker bay.

“Should I follow her?” asks Lauren.

“I . . . I don’t know.” I’m still trying to process what has just happened, trying to decide if it’s reality or just a bad dream.

“She probably just needs to chill,” says Amy, who has stepped up next to Lauren now, putting her hand on her shoulder in an encouraging way.

“Wow,” says BJ as she joins us. “I never saw that one coming.”

“I knew about it,” says Lauren.

“Those athletic girls,” says a girl from the group of spectators that’s just starting to break up. “I always knew they were a bunch of lesbians.”

“Watch what you say around the jock-chicks!” says someone else. “They might beat you up.” Naturally, this is followed by peals of laughter and several more crude jokes that I try to block out.

“You guys are total idiots!” yells Amy.

“Yeah, why don’t you get a life,” says BJ.

“And grow up while you’re at it!” adds Lauren.

“Come on, Ramie,” says BJ as she grabs me by the arm. The next thing I know they’re all herding me down toward the gym and then into the girls’ locker room, where they usher me through the door and into the small office that’s used by the PE teachers, who fortunately aren’t around at the moment.

“Maybe it will be private in here,” says BJ.

“Like it’s going to matter,” says Lauren.

The four of us cram inside, standing in a circle around the desk, and just look at each other. I can tell that we’re all still kind of in shock.

“So,
that’s
why you quit the team.” Amy is looking at me now.

I nod.