She shrugged.
“What?”
“You’re not gay.”
“Yes, I’m not gay, that’s what I said.”
“But if you were, there’s nothing wrong with that,” she pointed out.
“Obviously,” I said. “I’m not saying thereisanything wrong with that.”
“You’re kind of acting like there is,” she said, gaze resting on my father’s crucifix dangling from my neck.
“I just don’t want to be called something I’m not,” I said defensively. “Is that so wrong?”
Ava said nothing, which meant itwaswrong, and she was annoyed.
The truth was, I knew I couldn’t really talk about this with her. For one, she was a lesbian. Being insecure about my new nickname sounded like I thought being queer was wrong, which wasn't how I felt at all. And two, when Ava first came out, she’d endured a lot worse than a stupid nickname. The boys in our year made jokes about ‘turning her straight’ while the girls distanced themselves, telling her not to flirt with them.
Now, she wore her badge proudly, the lesbian flag all over her social media. But I’d been there during her struggles. And now here I was, practically making a scene because I was labelled gay for not hooking up with a girl the second I had a chance. She probably thought I was such an asshole.
“Look,” I broke the silence, “I’m sorry. You’re right. There’s nothing wrong with being gay and I shouldn’t care if people call me some stupid nickname. I just…” I ran my fingers through my hair, searching for the right words to accurately explain the thoughts and feelings fluttering wildly in my head. It was hard to voice the things I usually buried deep down. “…I’m just not."
“That’s fine. I get it.” She smiled, though it seemed forced. “I mean, I’d be horrified if someone called me straight.”
She entered the classroom ahead of me and I followed, hoping that I could amend the rift I’d caused between us. During our lesson, I tried to think of a way to start up a conversation, but every time I opened my mouth, words lodged in my throat, silencing me.
At lunch, Ava told me she was going to study in the library with Eden. She invited me to join her, but I knew she didn’t really want me there.
Eden and Ava were officially dating—Ava had asked her out on the school excursion—and they’d gone out to dinner over the weekend. They were keeping things on the down low, but Ava had updated me every step of the way. I could tell Eden made her happy, but I wasn’t thrilled about sharing my best friend.
For the first time since Ava and I met in the art studio in year seven, I was eating alone amongst the scent of wet paint and damp brushes.
This is it, the Devil drawled,she left you. Just like your mother did.
***
Augustus the Gay. Roman Emperor of the Queers. These titles chased me through crowded corridors, narrow staircases, and across the vast school yard. There was nowhere the whispers did not follow.
Elysse and her friends were going out of their way to make my life miserable, to punish me for fracturing Elysse’s ego. But they weren’t the only ones. Alexander seemed intent on punishing me too, but I had the sense it was for an entirely different reason.
He found me in the art block, snatching my paintbrush out of my hands to wave in front of me like a wand. Dark circles decorated his green eyes, his expression empty despite the laugh that poured from his lips.
My lack of response seemed to anger him more than any word I could utter. He wanted something from me. I just wasn’t sure what.
“Are you gay, then, Saint?” he drawled.
I resisted the urge to slam my fist into his face. It seemed our temporary truce was over.
“No,” I said.
“You were looking at me when you were kissing her,” he murmured, “did you want to kiss me instead?”
Heat flamed my cheeks, mouth void of all saliva when I swallowed. “No.”
He leaned closer, fingers playing with the crucifix hanging from my neck, my breath catching in my throat when he flicked it back in my face.
“Too catholic to be queer, too queer to be catholic,” he spat as he backed away, leaving me alone in the empty art room.
