The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(4)
But she was more than just a leader, and I wasn’t just a follower. She was the superhero, and I was the sidekick.
Okay, maybe the sidekick is a little generous. I was more like the fangirl in distress who the hero constantly has to save. No one cares about that character. So really, I’m glad Bianca shattered that illusion, so I don’t have to play that role anymore. I’m my own hero now, and she’s the villain.
I guess I was pretty naive back then. I had seen Bianca’s mean side. How she would talk shit about anyone and everyone just to do it. How she looked down on anyone outside our little group. Under Bianca’s glow, I felt special. I should have known how easy it would be for her to turn and make me the target.
For a while, job hunting is a convenient distraction from Bianca. I don’t have to think about how much I hate her while I’m busy filling out applications and compulsively rewriting my résumé. I spend the rest of June and all of July job hunting, but after getting nothing but soul-sucking rejections, I’m still not having any luck. My résumé isn’t exactly impressive, no matter how I twist it. I’ve only had one job working as a barista, and I couldn’t even hold it a couple of weeks. And there’s only so many job openings within walking distance from our house.
Technically, I’m only supposed to use my phone for job hunting and emergencies, but I am allowed to stare at my notification-less screen between applications. My phone background makes me feel slightly better about not having any texts. It’s a picture of me and my dad doing our best America’s Next Top Model poses. I was eight, so Papi’s on his knees to match my height, and we’re both doing that weird pose with our hands on our hips and elbows inverted. I grin at the picture and consider calling my dad, but since I’m grounded, I just keep staring at my lack of notifications.
I hate myself for hoping to see Bianca’s name. I shouldn’t miss her. I should be pissed. I am pissed, and yet . . .
“Ugh!” I wander into my mom’s room and leap over all her jewelry onto the mattress to take comfort in her bed. She’d kill me if I stepped on any of her stuff. I pull the comforter over my face and think.
Since Mom can cover only half my tuition, if I can’t get a job to cover my part, I’ll have to go back to Rover. Alone. I’d have no way of looking after Cesar like Mom expects. She’s already annoyed that I couldn’t get into his genius classes—if he gets himself in trouble and loses his scholarship, it’ll be on me.
That’s what this is about. It’s not about me “running away” from Bianca. Never seeing her again is just another perk of this whole situation, if I can make it work by getting another job. But no one wants to hire a sixteen-year-old with no car and no experience. I have to think outside the box. I sit up and let the comforter fall off me. Think. Think.
The bed is too comfy to get any real thinking done, so I hop off and sit on the floor. But I can’t concentrate there because Mom’s jewelry is a mess. She leaves bits of half-finished pieces scattered all over and doesn’t even bother separating her finished pieces from her works in progress. I start organizing her mess to clear my head. Frankly, she could make a lot more money off this if she set it up a little nicer and actually put any inkling of energy into marketing her Etsy store. Out of curiosity, I pull up her online store on my phone.
It’s pretty embarrassing, honestly. The pictures are frickin’ blurry, and the jewelry is posed against the washed-out dark blue carpet in my mom’s room instead of literally any other backdrop. It hardly does the vibrant colors any favors.
Mom doesn’t know the first thing about social media or technology of any kind. That gives me an idea. . . . Maybe I can surprise her! Revamping her Etsy store and making an Instagram for it could be exactly what she needs. I carefully sift through all her work and pick my favorite of each style. She has some basic jewelry she sells for cheap, like beaded earrings or necklaces with a crystal on a chain. Her handwoven bracelets are always a hit at the farmers markets. But my favorite is her beadwork.
The colors she chooses grow more vibrant when they’re woven together, like the design gives a life to them that wasn’t there before. Her beaded necklaces, earrings, and bracelets all remind me of Mexico. I haven’t gone since I was little, but I always felt more at home across the border.
I smooth out the white sheet on the bed and lay Mom’s finished pieces on top. They look nice, but the sheet does no justice to how cute they look on. Good thing I’m always down for an excuse to give myself a makeover. After doing my nails, face, and hair, I’m ready to model some jewelry.
“Cesar! ?Ayúdame!” I call out.
“With what?” he calls back.
“Just come here!”
“Ugh, fine.” Cesar comes in and stares at me and the jewelry on the bed. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“Making Mami rich.” I smile. “You’re my photographer.”
“Only if you come with me to get Takis.”
Hmm. I swear I just heard him tell some girl on the phone he’s sick and can’t hang out. Cesar’s definitely using Takis as an excuse to get me out of the house. He never even shares with me, which I would be annoyed about if I actually liked Takis. I think he might be passing up opportunities to do stuff to make sure I’m okay.
He doesn’t know what happened, but he has to know something happened. I’m sure the broken mirror and Bianca’s absence tipped him off. I used to spend almost every day with her, either at my house or hers, ever since we were little, but summer’s almost over and she hasn’t been to our house once since before school let out.