The God Box (9 page)

BY LUNCHTIME THE NEXT DAY ANGIE HAD STOPPED BY THE MAIN OFFICE AND

PICKED UP THE APPLICATION FORM REQUIRED TO ORGANIZE A SCHOOL CLUB.

SHE AND DAKOTA WERE TALKING EXCITEDLY ABOUT IT WHEN I GOT TO OUR

TABLE."You really think Mr. Arbuthnot will allow a GSA?" I asked, secretly hoping our principal wouldn't."He has to." Dakota shoved her curls behind her ear and explained: "According to the websites I researched, the Supreme Court ruled that GSAs are covered under the ... wait, I wrote it down ..." She opened her reporter's notebook to a page of scribbles. "Here it is: the federal Equal Access Act, created to allow school Bible clubs like ours. The act states that all public schools receiving federal funding must allow any school club to be organized, so long as the group is student-initiated.""I asked Manuel," Angie interjected, "to explain to us how they formed a GSA at his old school." She glanced across the cafeteria. "Here he comes."For the first time since Elizabeth ditched our group, Manuel once again joined our table. I gazed around the lunchroom to see if89anyone was watching. Even though I hung out with him after school, that was different; no one saw us. Now I ducked down in my seat.Angie noticed and gave me a puzzled look. "Are you okay?""Fine," I muttered, and tried to listen to Manuel."At my old school," he explained, "most of our GSA members were actually straight. Ironically, the gay and lesbian kids were too closeted and afraid to come to meetings--at least at first. But once they saw the support of straight students, they started coming out."Angie leaned across the table to show us our school's application form. It required at least four students to officially organize a school club.

One by one Angie, Dakota, and Manuel each signed their names to the form. I watched, sweat trickling down my back. Did I really want to put my name down?Manuel handed me the pen.I stared at the dotted line. "Um, I want to think about it."Angie and Dakota peered across their lunch trays at me."Why?" Manuel asked, a grin tugging at his lips. "You afraid people might think you're gay?""No!" I said it louder than I intended, wishing Manuel had never come to our school."Then what do you need to think about?" Angie asked softly.I folded my arms and slumped farther down in my chair. "I just want to think about it, that's all.""Well..." Dakota shrugged. "If you don't want to do it, we can find someone else.""Go ahead," I shot back. I didn't like being pressured. "I said I want to think about it. Okay?"The three of them were quiet, exchanging looks. Angie, ever the peacemaker, said, "Well, in the meantime we'll need to find a sponsor. Every group has to have one."90I thought about all the teachers who ignored the "that's so gay" remarks and silently turned their backs. Maybe I didn't need to be so worried about the GSA. After all, would any teacher actually be willing to sponsor the club? I doubted it.91

AS THE WEEK PROGRESSED,IN MY MIND I DEBATED WHETHER OR NOT TO SIGN

THE GSA APPLICATION. AND IN MY HEART I ASKED JESUS,PLEASE HELP ME.

EVERYTHING SEEMS SO CONFUSED. I'VE ALWAYS TRIED TO DO WHAT YOU

WANTED. WHAT SHOULD I DO NOW.' Meanwhile, Angie and Dakota began asking teachers to sponsor the club. During lunchtime the girls reported what had happened, and I listened intently, too anxious to eat much.Angie had first approached six-foot-three Ms. Lanier, the unmarried girls' gym teacher, who--rumor claimed--was a lesbian."No way!" she had told Angie.

"You want me to lose my job?"Next, Dakota had asked Mr. Oglethorpe, our ancient history and world civ teacher. He was one of the nicest teachers at school, but a little deaf and verging on senile."When I told him it was a gay-straight alliance"--Dakota rolled her eyes in exasperation--

"he thought I meant some sort of glee club. When I tried to explain the purpose was to combat homophobia, he said he couldn't support any organization that advocated violence. At that point I gave up."Angie proceeded to describe her encounter with Mrs. Lee, a92math teacher: "She peered over her little half-moon glasses at me and whispered, 'It's that new boy, isn't it? The one with the eyebrow ring? I knew he was trouble from the moment I saw him.'"Dakota told us how Mr.

Wendt, the English teacher, had told her, "I'd like to help you. Really, I would. But I have to choose my battles wisely, and frankly, I doubt this one stands a chance in Hades. I'm still getting grief for teaching Slaughterhouse-Five last year."I recalled how a group of parents had tried to get him fired for teaching a book that they said promoted sex and filthy language.Out of all the teachers Angie and Dakota had asked, not a single one would sponsor the GSA."So now what do we do?" Dakota gazed, droopy-faced, across the table at Angie and me."We keep asking," Angie insisted. "Till somebody says yes.""But what if no one will do it?" I asked.Dakota gave me a disappointed frown. "That's not what you're hoping, is it?""Um, no," I said, though I wasn't sure I meant it. My feelings about everything, including Angie, the Bible, what to believe, and especially about Manuel, were shifting every minute.Each time I saw him, I was aware of feelings growing inside me, unlike any I'd ever experienced. Even though he exasperated me at times, I couldn't stop thinking about him. And the more I tried to control my thoughts, the more they seemed to buck me.Adding to my confusion, it seemed like the antigay stuff at school was getting worse. One morning in homeroom, I noticed that Jude Maldonado had written on his desktop,

"Manuel Cordero is a fag." Crude stuff like that began to appear on desks in every class I had with Jude: "Manuel likes dick," "E-mail Cordero for butt sex."One day in the hallway, between classes, Cliff pulled me aside.93"We need to talk." His steel gray eyes drilled into me. "People are asking me why you hang out with that queer."I cringed, recalling Cliffs death-to-gays remark.

"So?""So ..." Cliff narrowed his eyes at me. "What am I supposed to tell them?""I don't care." Of course I really did care. But what could I do?That afternoon I was walking down the hall, when a group of guys passed me and coughed the word, "Faggot!" I pretended like I didn't hear them, but inside I churned with emotion: wanting to smack them, or hide, or scream, or cry...In the evening, alone in my room, I asked Jesus to guide me. "I'm so confused. Everything seems all wrong. Why is this happening?"Another day, Elizabeth cornered me at my locker. "I'm really concerned about you, Paul. I want you to know I'm praying for you." That came as no surprise. Every once in a while she'd gaze across the cafeteria, glaring at Dakota, and text me: I'm praying u in Jesus'

name.The following day at lunch I told Angie and Dakota, "I've decided to sign the GSA application."The girls exchanged a look, and Angie said, "Thanks, but, um ... we already got someone else.""Really?" My skin prickled with curiosity. "Who?""Stephen Marten," Dakota replied.I glanced across the lunchroom toward Manuel's table. The boy who since middle school had gotten called "queer" was now smiling and laughing."So, um, is he really gay?" I said.Angie shrugged. "I didn't ask.""It's a gay-straight alliance," Dakota reminded me. "As a ground rule, we don't ask people's sexual orientation."94"Even so..." I picked at my chicken salad. "People will assume anyone who goes is gay. I'm already getting flack just for hanging out with Manuel.""You are?" Angie's eyes grew huge with worry. "What kind of flack?"I pushed my tray aside, too frustrated to eat. "Like guys calling me names and saying stuff."Dakota squared her shoulders as if ready to defend me. "Has anyone tried to hurt you physically?""No." Her concern made me feel better.Angie sighed. "I think it's harder for guys than girls.""At least with girls," Dakota agreed,

"you don't have to worry as much about violence.""How can we help?" Angie reached over and laid her hand on mine.I shook my head in dismay. Even though I appreciated their offer, I knew I was on my own. Guys would view any sort of help from girls as only further reason to accuse me of being gay. "There's nothing you can do," I said.Later that week I was walking toward my car when a school bus passed and someone yelled out the window, "Homo!"I whirled around to see who'd said it, but they had ducked back inside the roaring bus. I kicked the sidewalk and resumed walking, feeling like Armageddon was approaching.95

WHEN THE LAST BELL RANG BEFORE THANKSGIVING BREAK, I BOLTED OUT THE

DOOR. BESIDES BEING EAGER TO GET AWAY FROM ALL THE SCHOOL STRESS, l'D

BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO ABUELITA COMING TO VISIT US FROM MEXICO. I

LOVED HER A LOT, AS MUCH AS I LOVED MY PA. AFTER SCHOOL, I DROVE THE

HOUR TO ABILENE TO PICK HER UP AT THE AIRPORT.As Abuelita shuffled through the gate, I ran up, stooping over her tiny frame and into her outstretched arms. She pressed her bony face against my cheek, and I breathed in her delicate rose perfume. Then she grabbed my shoulders, staring at me through the chunky glasses that magnified her charcoal-black eyes, making them huge and bright."Let me look at you, mi amor. Every time I see you, you're even more tall and handsome than ever." She always said stuff like that, making me blush and smile.On the drive home she asked me about Pa and his girlfriend, and about school and Angie.

"And what about you?" She clutched my hand tightly. "Are you happy, Pablito?"96Abuelita was the only person in the world I let call me that-- the kid form of Pablo. I nodded earnestly in response. Sitting beside her, I was the happiest I'd been in weeks.When we arrived home, I carried her suitcase into the guest bedroom, but she only took a moment to get settled before heading to the kitchen. Abuelita took that room over whenever she visited, warming it with her presence and filling our house with sounds and smells that carried me back to when I was a little kid in Mexico: the sizzle of sauteed peppers, the steaming hiss of a pressure cooker full of beans, the bubbling boil of posole stew, the sweet smell of masa, and the slap, slap, slap, slap of Abuelita's hands patting tortillas ... Even though Pa and I got along okay batching it, having Abuelita home made everything better.At mealtimes she set an extra place, to remind us of those who didn't have enough to eat--and of the Lord's presence among us. To Abuelita, God was a member of the family--someone to talk to and reckon with.Oftentimes I'd come home and hear her in the middle of a conversation. I had to look around to check: Was anyone human actually there? Or was she talking to Jesus again? Her chats with God weren't like most prayers--at least not like mine. She could get into real arguments, nearly shouting at the Lord.As a boy I'd wondered what to make of Abuelita, but Ma had reassured me: "Don't worry, mijo. That's just how she is."Over the years I had gotten used to the quirkiness. I admired her faith, and I think she paved the way for my own relationship with Jesus.On Thanksgiving morning, I woke up early to help Abuelita make her best-turkey-on-earth recipe, mole poblano de guajolote, with the magical ingredient, melted chocolate. She knew how much I loved chocolate. My mouth watered the entire time we were making it.97Pa invited Raquel and some of their friends. And later in the day, after we'd finished our feast, Angie came over, bringing a pumpkin custard pie. The three of us sat in the kitchen, and Abuelita told us funny stories about growing up in her Mexican farm town: having to run away from snakes in the outhouse; how mischievous girls at her convent school secretly tacked their nun's habit to a chair to find out if she was bald, so that when the sister stood up, her headdress pulled off; and the cooking disaster when Abuelita became a restaurant chef and used too many chili peppers. I loved her stories and laughed so much that my ribs hurt.After Angie left, I was helping Abuelita unload the dishwasher when she abruptly asked, "Are you in love with her?"I almost dropped the cup I was storing. Why is she asking that? What should I answer? Am I in love with Angie? I want to be.Abuelita adjusted her clunky glasses and peered at me with her enormous eyes. "If you're not," she said sternly, "don't mislead her, mi amor. Be honest with her--and yourself."I swallowed what felt like a pumpkin-sized knot in my throat and looked away. Why was she telling me this?But she gently took my chin and turned my face back to her. "Have you ever been in love?"I hesitated, recalling Manuel's description of being head over heels about Bryan, and comparing it with Angie and me."Um, I don't know.""If you don't know," Abuelita said sternly, "then you haven't. When you're in love, you'll know."I quietly put away the last of the dishes, aching to confess to her all the turmoil bottled up inside me: my unwanted attraction toward guys, my fear of going to hell because of it, how much I wanted to be in love with Angie, and how confused I felt about the new boy at school named Manuel. I wanted to tell Abuelita all of it.98But I couldn't. It was too much to sort out. Instead, I changed my clothes and told Pa, "I'm going for a run."After spending the whole day inside, I breathed in huge gulps of fresh air, while the conversation with Abuelita dogged my every step. Had I ever been in love? Was I falling in love with Manuel?The thought tripped me mid stride; I nearly tumbled to the pavement.No way! I told myself, regaining my balance. I am not falling in love with Manuel.

Uh-uh. No, no, no!I ran harder against the cold wind, hoping to leave my thoughts behind. But in my heart I knew that my feelings for Manuel were growing. With each step I asked Jesus, Am I falling in love with Manuel? Why?And even though it was Thanksgiving, I felt more confused than thankful.99

THE SATURDAY FOLLOWING THANKSGIVING, ANGIE AND I WENT ON OUR

REGULAR DATE TO DINNER AND THE (S)MALL. WE WERE WALKING HAND IN

HAND TOWARD THE MOVIE WHEN ANGIE SUDDENLY SHOUTED, "DAKOTA!

MANUEL!""Angie!" Manuel yelled back, so loud that people turned to stare. Then he stretched his arms out, like in some corny romance, except he was laughing, and swooped her up off the floor, twirling her in a circle while she whooped.As I watched them, a feeling that I couldn't identify nagged me. Then I recalled Angie sitting beside me in the car and asking, "Are you jealous of him?" Except it wasn't Manuel I was jealous of--it was Angie, being swung around. I wished that it was me in his arms.I stood paralyzed by that realization as Manuel set Angie down, both of them still laughing."We're going to see the creature feature," Angie told Dakota, and gave me a look. After so many years with Angie, I knew what the look meant."Um, you guys want to join us?" I asked, coming back from my daze.100"Nah," Dakota replied. "We shouldn't barge in on you guys' date.""It's okay," I told them, meaning it. Between Thanksgiving and Abuelita I hadn't seen Manuel for three days. I missed him.As usual I paid for Angie's ticket, and she bought our drinks and popcorn. Dakota also bought a bag, and Manuel got their drinks.As the four of us walked into the theater, we talked and joked about the tons of food we'd eaten for Thanksgiving.