The Fight (3 page)

I was too far to run and catch up with Dominic, especially with my schoolbag.

“Dominic!” I yelled. He didn't turn around, but I thought he heard me because he turned his head a little and hunched his shoulders. Maybe he thought I was another person trying to hurt him.

Our houses were the same direction from school, so I jogged behind him, breathing hard. I lost some time at the busy street by school because I had to wait forever to cross. By then he'd disappeared into the neighborhood.

When I got into the neighborhood myself, I couldn't see him ahead of me. The straightest way to his house was the street I was looking down, but he wasn't there. I kept glancing up the other streets as I walked by, but I never saw him.

T

hen it was Sunday. I was sitting in church with my mom, worrying about all my homework. Sundays suck like that.

My dad didn't come to church often. It was weird because my mom had converted to Catholicism when they got married. He didn't ask her to or care about it, but sometimes it seemed like she was trying to out-Latino him to prove she wasn't really white. She spoke Spanish to us way more than he did and wanted all our teachers and friends to call us by our full names, pronounced exactly right.

I also think my name—Isabel—sounds better in Spanish, so I just told most people to call me Bella, instead. Izzy is a stupid name, so I hated it when people tried to call me that.

My mom was kneeling and praying before the service. She was looking a little too devout. I wished I had Matteo there to roll my eyes at. I was flipping through the program thing they give you with all the songs and announcements.

Since there weren't any guys I cared about at church, I was wearing the kind of dressy clothes my mom liked. “Classy” she called them. Nothing that showed bra straps and “nice” shoes that matched my skirt. I drew the line at nylons, though.

While I was waiting for the service to start, I thought about how in every class and even in my lunch period there was a cute guy that I could keep an eye out for. Someone who made me care about how I looked just in case he saw me. Some of them didn't know I existed. Like the senior at lunch who was on the soccer team and always polished his apple on the waistband of his boxer shorts.

I started ticking through them all. English: Andre. Math: David. History: Ricky. Health…. Maybe because there weren't any interesting guys in health, I spent so much time looking at June's profile and long, shiny hair. But I didn't like her the way I liked those guys, did I? The things my body did when I saw her—blushing, clammy hands, pounding heart—it was how I felt with cute guys too.

Looking down at the part in my mom's hair as she bowed her head, I flashed on a memory from a long time ago. I had asked her what a lesbian was. She explained and then seeing something in my face, she said, “Oh, but I know you're not a lesbian, honey.”

“How do you know?” I asked. (Good question because I was, like, eight!)

“You like boys too much,” she said.

I turned my thoughts away as the choir started the first song and my mom pulled me to my feet.

W

hen I got a little bored during the sermon, I started reading the announcements again. Deaths, births. And this:

Join us next week at noon on Wednesday for the archbishop's prayer service for the sanctity of marriage—marriage between one man and one woman.

I elbowed my mom. She pulled her eyes off the priest and gave me an annoyed look. I pointed to the announcement in the program. She glanced at it and frowned.

“Later,” she hissed and turned her face back to the priest.

I was annoyed right back at her. Maybe it didn't seem like the laws around gay marriage mattered to how kids were treated in school, but it just seemed mean.

When everyone came forward for Holy Communion, I saw Dominic there with his family. I couldn't catch his eye. When the service was over, I told my mom we had to go have donuts at fellowship time. She raised her eyebrows but followed me.

First, I only saw Dominic's parents with his siblings. Then I saw him over by the wall, not talking to anyone. I grabbed a donut and said to my mom, “I'm gonna go talk to Dominic … about something at school. A … a project.” I'm not sure why I lied.

As I hurried over, I realized I had no idea what to say. Sorry you're getting beat up 'cause you're gay? Does our school have a GSA? I'm not gay, I'm just curious—about the GSA, not other stuff?!

He didn't look up as I approached.

“Hey,” I said, standing in front of him.

He looked up through his bangs. “Oh, hi,” he said softly.

“Good donut?” I blurted out. Wow, that was stupid.

He shrugged.

“Umm,” I said. “I just wanted to know if you were OK. I mean after Jay…”

Dominic blushed and looked really uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah, I'm fine,” he said.

“I couldn't believe Ms. Weller didn't take him to the office,” I said, feeling mad at Weller all over again.

Dominic shrugged. “Not a big deal,” he mumbled. Now I was getting annoyed with him.

“No, it was,” I insisted. “And I saw those guys throw stuff at you from the car. It was scary.” I looked hard at his face, trying to make him look at me.

When he finally did look at me, the pain in his eyes made like an ESP connection between us.

“They've done other stuff too, haven't they?” I asked. “What did they do? Who is it? Jay?”

He shifted and looked away again. “I don't want to talk about it,” he said in a soft voice.

“Have you told on them?” I asked, squeezing my donut until it started to make crumbs. All kinds of scary pictures were going through my head of what a bully like Jay might do to Dominic.

He shrugged again. “You saw what happened with Weller. I did try to talk to the vice principal once. He just told me to try to stay out of their way. And maybe not act so…” He trailed off.

I squeezed my donut so hard a chunk broke off and fell on the carpet. Not to act so gay is what the vice principal said, I could tell. I knew what he meant, but what did that even mean?!

I don't know if I'd ever consciously thought about Dominic being gay until I heard Jay call him a faggot, but it totally made sense. I had known Dominic since junior high, and he'd never been like other guys. It didn't matter, but now I was pretty sure he was.

But the vice principal saying “Well, son, just try not to be so gay” (I could hear him saying it, the tool) was stupid. It was just how Dominic was. And why should he have to change for an idiot like Jay who was always trying to feel girls up in the hall and crap like that.

“What about your parents? Can't they talk to the principal?” My mom would be calling everyone from the superintendent on down if she thought me or Matteo was being harassed at school.

Dominic looked panicked. “No, and don't say anything. You can't tell your mom or anything. They don't know….They don't know.”

I guessed what he meant is that they didn't know he was gay. I guess his parents were kind of conservative and traditional. But still …

“Can't you just tell them that Jay and those guys are bugging you and won't stop? Just so someone tells them to leave you alone or something. Or they should totally get suspended for throwing a bottle at you. I can say I saw it.”

Dominic was shaking his head the whole time. “No, no. I can't tell my parents. They're—they're under a lot of stress right now.”

He stopped. I raised my eyebrows.

“Our house is getting foreclosed,” he added reluctantly.

“Oh, wow,” I said, stupidly.

“Besides,” he said quickly, “It wouldn't make any difference anyway with those guys. They don't care about getting in trouble. They'll … they'll stop soon,” he said, unconvincingly.

I didn't know what to say. I felt so bad for him. Then our moms both came over and said that it was time to go and that it was nice to see each other again. I mumbled to Dominic, “I'll see you in school.”

On the way home, my mom said, “What were you showing me in the announcements?”

“Nothing,” I said and put my head back and closed my eyes.

I

t took me a while to realize on Monday that there was something going on. I didn't really notice the T-shirts until third period. I was sitting behind Rachel, reading over and over again on her back: LET'S TALK! THE BIBLE HAS THINGS TO SAY ABOUT MARRIAGE.

I remembered I had seen similar shirts on kids in the halls, all with the same logo.

After class I asked her, “What's up with your shirt?”

“Oh, hey, Bella!” she said, all perky. “I thought your church participated. It's a day to spread the Bible's message about love and marriage and how God cares for everyone's soul. And that our actions, even when we're young and maybe confused, really matter.” She stared at me earnestly.

I just shook my head and walked away.

– – – – –

I threw myself down at our lunch table. “You will not believe what Rachel said to me,” I told my friends.

“She's wearing one of those T-shirts, right?” said Kim. “Someone else gave me a card on my way here, but I didn't read it.” She pulled it out of her back pocket. I grabbed it.

“Oh my God, listen to this,” I said. “‘The Lord has our best interests at heart when it comes to our sexuality.'” I threw the card down. “You know what that means—God hates gay people and so do we!”

Jenny and Keesha exchanged looks. Kim picked up the card to read it.

“You don't think the Bible says being gay is bad?” asked Keesha.

I stared at her. “I don't know what the Bible says about it. Or about a lot of other stuff. But this is BS! Why, do you think that?”

Keesha put her hands up. “Whoa, I didn't say that. I'm just saying that for some people who are really religious, it's just obvious. You should hear my grandma talk about it.”

I shook my head as I picked up my milk.

“Why are you so upset?” asked Jenny. “You didn't used to care so much about … political stuff.” She paused. “Is this about Dominic?”

“What about Dominic?” Keesha and Kim said. I gave Jenny a look.

“Jay was … harassing him the other day and calling him terrible things,” I said. “And Ms. Weller didn't do anything.”

Keesha shuddered. “I hate Jay,” she said. “He's always got to be messing with somebody.” Kim nodded. Then she moved on.

“Hey, did you guys hear about—”

I tuned Kim out. I wasn't in the mood for gossip about other people's love lives.