The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School
Sonora Reyes
Dedication
To my mom. Mi otro yo.
Author’s Note
This book deals with issues of racism, homophobia, immigration, and the suicidal ideation and hospitalization of a character. I have done my best to depict these topics with sensitivity and care. If these are difficult subjects for you, please take care of yourself and know that your mental and emotional well-being comes first.
1
Thou Shalt Not Trust a Two-Faced Bitch
Seven years of bad luck can slurp my ass.
It’s been way too long since I punched something, and that vanity had it coming. Stupid mirror. Stupid Yami.
Whatever. Mirrors are overrated, and punching them is underrated. I’ve never liked looking at myself anyway. Not because I don’t think I’m cute. I mean, I am cute—objectively—but that’s beside the point. I like this new reflection better. It’s cracked enough that I’m hardly recognizable. Splintered in all the right places. I did that. With my fist. Who says I’m not tough?
I don’t run from a fight—as long as it’s with an inanimate object. I didn’t punch the mirror hard enough to shatter it, but the pulsing in my knuckles tells me I hit it pretty hard. My chest swells at the accomplishment, and so does my hand.
Shit. That’s a lot of blood.
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. My hand is shaking and starting to drip, but I’m stuck. All I can think about is Bianca, and the other thing I really shouldn’t have done.
Who quits their job just to avoid the possibility of running into an ex? Not even an ex. An ex-traordinarily two-faced bitch. An ex–best friend, who I’m ashamed to have ever had feelings for.
Bianca’s never been good at keeping secrets, so I don’t know why I thought she’d keep this one to herself. It’s my own fault for trusting her. Last time I saw her was when she outed me at the end of sophomore year. I was happy to never see her again, but today she just had to walk right into the coffee shop I work at. Worked at.
She has some nerve trying to confront me at work. It’s not like I could defend myself. I never could, against her. Because of her, I couldn’t even make it a couple weeks into my summer job.
So you’re running away to Catholic school now? Are you that desperate to avoid me?
Yes. Desperate enough to quit my job, too. Anything to keep from seeing her. Anything.
“Yami?” Cesar knocks at the door but doesn’t wait for a response before cracking it open and peeking inside. “I’ll call you back,” he says to whoever he’s on the phone with. He must have heard the mirror break. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of my fist, so I jump in before he can say anything.
“Was that your girlfriend?” I tease.
“Something like that.” He shrugs.
“You’re such a player,” I say, shaking my head.
“Anyways, you okay?” My brother stares at my bloody knuckles and the mirror, waiting for an explanation I don’t give. I should be the one worried about him, not the other way around. His knuckles are freshly scabbed like mine are about to be, and he has a black eye. Just another variation of the usual.
“Are you okay?” I throw the question back at him. His eyes flick to the mirror and back at me before he walks in. He hops over the dirty clothes on the floor and onto my bed, grinning.
“I got all As!” he says. Okay, so I’m not the only one deflecting. Cesar and I have an unspoken rule: you can ask personal questions exactly once. If the question is avoided, you don’t pry. That’s how we keep the peace. I give Cesar a high five with my good hand, then go to our shared bathroom to wash off the blood, leaving the door open so he can hear me.