“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.
“I told her not to,” says Lauren.
“Yeah, if anyone should quit, it should be Jess,” says Amy. “She’s the one who’s messed everything up.”
“That’s not fair,” says Lauren. “Just because she’s gay doesn’t mean she can’t be on the team. That’s wrong.”
“But won’t it feel weird?” says Amy. “I mean I sure don’t want to strip down in front of her anymore.”
I glance out to the locker room, where girls are in various stages of dress and undress, completely oblivious as to whether they’re being watched as they get ready for basketball practice. We take so much for granted.
“So, are you afraid that Jess’s going to come on to you, Amy?” Lauren teases her best friend.
But Amy just glares at her. “No! It just makes me uncomfortable.”
“I sort of know what you mean,” I tell Amy. “It kind of creeps me out.”
“Yeah, we probably all feel like that,” admits BJ. “But then it’s not like this is anything new either. I mean we’ve all been around Jess for a long time now. It’s not like she’s ever done anything weird to anyone.” Then she looks curiously at me. “Has she?”
“No!” I firmly shake my head. “She has never done anything weird to me. Well, besides telling me about this. That was pretty bizarre.”
“Yeah,” says Lauren. “Ramie told me that she was as shocked as anyone when she heard the news.”
“So, what are we going to do?” asks BJ.
“Do?” I echo. “What do you mean? What can we do?”
“I mean what are we going to do about Jess?”
“I don’t think she should be on the team anymore,” says Amy firmly.
“It’s not like we can kick her off,” says Lauren. “I mean just because she’s a lesbian doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any rights.”
“That’s true,” agrees BJ. “In fact, I think she could sue the school if she got kicked off the team for being homosexual. I’ll bet she could get the ACLU in here like that.” BJ snaps her fingers.
“Okay, so we can’t kick her off,” says Amy, “but we can make her want to quit.”
“Jess loves basketball,” I remind them.
BJ looks out the window into the locker room, peering around. “She might love basketball, but she’s not out there now.”
“That’s because she was traumatized,” I say.
“Yeah,” says Lauren. “She’ll probably be here. Maybe she’ll come out late.”
“Maybe we should get ready too,” says BJ.
So we all go back into the locker room now, but as my friends head for their lockers, I go straight for the exit.
“Hey, where you going, Ramie?” demands Lauren as she runs over to stop me.
“Home.”
“No way!” says BJ, as she joins us.
“But I quit,” I remind them. “I already told Coach and—”
“That was yesterday,” says Amy. “Before everyone knew about Jess.”
Now the locker room gets noticeably quiet, and we turn around to see that all the other girls have stopped talking and dressing and are tuned in to us. And it’s obvious that they all know what’s going on. But now they’re watching and waiting, like they want to see how we’re goin
g to handle this thing. I can especially feel them staring at me, like they’re asking themselves whether I, like Jess, am also lesbian.
“Come on, Ramie,” urges Lauren.
“Yeah,” says Amy. “Don’t let Jess ruin your life.”
“We need you on the team,” says Lauren.
“Your quitting isn’t going to help Jess anyway,” BJ points out. “Jess is going to have to sort out her own life.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I agree.
“Of course, we’re right,” says BJ.
“Jess is the one who’s messed up,” says Amy. “Just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean you have to suffer for her.”
And so I rethink yesterday’s decision to quit, and BJ offers to loan me her extra practice uniform, and we all hurry to dress down, joining the others as we jog out to the court where Coach Ackley starts to bark out some drill instructions. Then just as I get a ball, he yells at me.
“Get over here, Grant!”
I run over to where he’s standing on the sidelines. “Coach?”
“I heard about LeCroix.”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself, the whole school will know all about this business by tomorrow. This stuff happens, Grant. But you can’t let it stop you.” Then he slaps me on the back. “Glad to see you’re bigger than that. Glad to have you back.”
“But what about Jess?” I ask.
He shrugs, then glances down at his clipboard. “What about her?”
“Uh, some of the girls are, well, uncomfortable, you know? And it might be hard on the team.”
“Look, Grant. A long time ago, I was in the army. Back when they still had that don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. you know what I mean?”
I nod.
“Well, that’s how I’d like to keep things here. Okay? you girls sort this trouble out among yourselves. I won’t ask. you don’t tell. Got me?”
“I guess.”
“Good.”
So we start practicing, and I keep one eye on the locker-room door, expecting Jess to slip out at any time, but she never does. And I have to admit this concerns me some. But maybe Amy was right. Maybe Jess just needs some time to chill. Missing one practice isn’t going to hurt her. It sure didn’t hurt me. I’ve been playing harder than ever today.
“I’m so happy you’re back,” says BJ as we head back to the locker room.
“Me too!” Amy slaps me on the back. “You were shooting about 90 percent out there, Ramie!”
“You keep that up when season starts and we’ll make it to state.”
I feel kind of surprised at how many other players are glad to see me back too. I mean, they could resent me or blame me or even think that both Jess and I are bad news. But that doesn’t seem the case. And suddenly I realize that quitting would’ve been a big mistake. Especially after Jess outted herself in front of everyone today. What good would it do the team to lose both of us? Not that Jess is not coming back. I’m sure she won’t be giving up basketball for good.
The yelling and teasing seem louder than usual in the showers tonight. I’m not sure if everyone’s just letting off steam after what went down with Jess or what. But, despite the jokes and craziness, I suspect that we’re all a little uneasy beneath the surface. And I wonder how it’s going to feel when Jess returns to practice. How will the girls act then?
“Need a ride home, Ramie?” asks BJ as she pulls on a sweatshirt.
I toss a pathetic smile her way. “I know it’s out of your way.”
“That’s okay.”
“Well, it’s that or the activities bus,” I admit.
“Not the dreaded activities bus,” says Amy in mock horror. “Is there anything worse that that?”
I want to say yes. Riding home with Jess tonight would be worse. But then Jess is not here. I don’t need to worry. Still, I wonder if she’ll ever offer me rides again, once she comes back. And, if she does, what will I say?
“Do you think someone should call Jess?” BJ asks as she drives me home. “I mean just to make sure she’s okay? She seemed pretty stressed today.”
“Yeah. I was kinda worried about her too.”
“Are you going to call her?”
“I, uh, I don’t know.” I twist the strap of my backpack. “It’s hard, BJ, it’s like I get all flustered and I don’t know what to say to her. And I don’t want to get into another fight with her, you know?”
“Maybe I should call her.”
“Would you?”
“Yeah. It’s not like I have the same history with her as you do. Besides, I think it’s the Christian thing to do, you know. Like Pastor Bryant says, love the sinner, hate the sin. I think I can do that.”
“Thanks, BJ.” She’s pulling up to my house now. “And thanks for the ride too. I’ll be praying for your conversation with Jess tonight.”
“Thanks. Want me to call you and let you know how it goes?”
“Sure,” I tell her as I climb out of her VW Bug. But as I walk up the steps to the townhouse, I’m wishing that she wouldn’t. I so want to be out of this picture, to be removed from anything that has anything to do with Jess. It’s like everything in my life seems to be revolving around her right now. Will I ever escape her? All I want to do is forget all about her, forget that she and I were ever friends, wipe away every old memory, and erase the creepy confession that she made in the hallway at school today.
I just want out.
eleven
WEDNESDAY, I HEAR PLENTY OF OTHERS TALKING ABOUT JESS AROUND school—mostly the school idiots who really should get a life. There is a lot of talk, a lot of speculation. But, to my surprise, not everything said is negative. Some kids are pretty understanding and accepting, saying that it’s no big deal and that everyone should get over it. I have to remind myself these kids probably aren’t Christians. Like my mom, they have a worldly way of measuring sin: If it feels good, it must be okay.
Thankfully I have Mitch to lean on. He is relieved, for my sake, that I changed my mind about quitting. I think he is also relieved that this thing with Jess is out in the open now, and it doesn’t seem to bother him that he’s dating a girl whose ex–best friend is a lesbian. I think this helps everyone else to accept that I’m not like Jess. At least I hope so.
BJ is the only one who’s talked to her since Tuesday’s disaster, and BJ says it was pretty much like talking to a stone. But she says she’ll keep trying. I’m trying not to feel guilty for bowing out. That’s how it feels. Like I’ve totally stepped out of Jess’s picture. If I see her at school today, though I haven’t caught sight of her yet, I’ll just look the other way. I am so grateful this is Thanksgiving week. A three-day week!
“Want to come to midweek service with me tonight?” Mitch asks me before he leaves at lunchtime.
“Sure,” I say with surprise. “I didn’t know that you usually went.”
“I don’t. But I promised my mom that I would. It’s a special Thanksgiving service, you know, a family time.” He kind of laughs. “Maybe your mom would like to join us.”
“Yeah, right.” Just the same, I decide to ask her anyway. And I decide that it’s time for her to meet Mitch.
I’m not surprised that Mom politely declines my invitation. But she does want to meet Mitch, and when I invite him in, she seems to hit it off with him, and I think she might actually approve. Not that she would tell me if she didn’t. It is, after all, my life. Still, it’s kind of nice that she likes him.
“Have fun,” she says as we head for the door. “If you can, that is.” She laughs. “Church and fun existed in two different universes when I was a kid.”
“You’ll have to give it a second chance someday,” I tell her.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.” She waves and we leave.
The first people I see when we walk into church are Jess’s parents. They’re standing by the door that leads to the sanctuary, and it almost feels as if they’re waiting for me. I tell myself this is ridiculous,
not to mention slightly paranoid. But as I get closer, they keep standing there, looking at me. At least Mrs. LeCroix is looking at me. Mr. LeCroix keeps his eyes on his shoes.
Now, I am totally unprepared for this. I suppose I have just blocked the possibility of this kind of encounter out of my mind. In a way, it feels like I’ve divorced Jess, and like I want to divorce her family too. But when I get close enough to really see their faces, I feel their sadness, and I can tell that they know.
Mrs. LeCroix forces a little smile for me. “Hello, Ramie. How are you doing?”
“Okay.” I glance around, curious as to whether Jess is here.
“She’s not here,” says Mrs. LeCroix in a quiet tone. “Oh.”
“We know,” she tells me.
“I’m sorry,” I say in return, unsure if that is the right response. It almost feels as if I’m at a funeral, like Jess really is dead and no one knows what to say. It’s weird.
“This is very hard,” she says.
“I know.”
“Did you . . . did you know about this?”
“You mean before just recently, when she decided to come out—out of the closet, I mean?”
She nods. “Yes, did you know?”
I shake my head. “I was just as shocked as you.”
Then she reaches over and takes my hand. “So, you’re not like that then?”
“No!” Then I lower my voice. “Not at all.”
She reaches into her purse for a tissue and then blots a stray tear.
I have no idea what I should say, what I should do, but I can feel others waiting behind us, and I suspect we’re causing a traffic jam. “Maybe we can talk later,” I tell her.
“Yes. Maybe after the service, if you have time.” She dabs her nose with the tissue, and Mitch and I move on.
Mitch’s hand slips beneath my elbow as we walk down the center aisle, and it’s such a comforting feeling. Then, to my surprise, Mitch leads us all the way to the front, where he guides us into the pew next to his mom and family. They lean over and smile at me and say hello, and not for the first time I think, Thank God for Mitch!
It’s a good service, but I’m afraid that most of it is flying right over my head. I’m too focused on that unsettling conversation with Jess’s mom and the knowledge that it’s not finished yet. And then there is Mitch sitting next to me, occasionally reaching over and giving my hand a squeeze, with his family right here too. I can’t help but wonder what they think of me. I wonder if they’ve heard about Jess. Does the whole church know, and if so, what do they think? Do they assume the worst about me? I am totally on emotional overload just now. I wish I could sneak outside and just chill.
Bright Purple: Color Me Confused with Bonus Content Page 8