wasn’t watching, then winked at me as I smoothed out the page.
“‘I’m exhausted,’” I read. “‘I’m sitting in History…’”
When I got to the part about Sister Catherine “droning on,” she interrupted me with a crisp “That’s enough, Sharon.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
I snapped the notebook shut, but before I made it halfway back to my seat her voice cut in again. “Perhaps you ought to take over today’s lesson for me, since you clearly have a much more interesting perspective on history to share with us.”
I met her eyes, but quickly looked back down again. We’re supposed to be especially respectful of the nuns on the faculty. “I’m very sorry, Sister.”
“Oh, no, don’t apologize. Go ahead and deliver your lecture, please. Here, I’ll take a seat.”
She sat down in my empty chair, making a big show of spreading out her habit and clasping her hands across my desk. A couple of girls laughed. I probably should’ve begged for forgiveness then and there, but I was too tired and frustrated to think clearly.
“All we ever talk about is ancient history.” I dared to raise my eyes again. “Why does it always have to be about Charlemagne or Christopher Columbus or Henry the Eighth? There was a historic election yesterday, right here in San Francisco. Can’t we talk about that?”
“I doubt a historian would argue local politics are as important to the foundations of our world as Christopher Columbus discovering this country.” Sister Catherine raised one eyebrow. “More to the point—”
I interrupted her. That’s probably what sealed my fate. I knew what would happen, even while I was saying the words, but I said them, anyway. “We just elected the city’s first gay supervisor, but now they’re trying to pass a law that says gay people aren’t allowed to teach in schools, and—”
“That’s enough, Sharon.” Sister Catherine rose from my chair.
Oh, crap. My heart sped up as she slowly stood and turned her back on me.
“What about the rest of you?” She made her voice deceptively casual, but no one was fooled. “Do you prefer your classmate’s version of history to mine?”
“No, Sister,” the other girls, even Rhonda, said as one, their eyes trained carefully on their desks. No one was laughing now.
“If you’d like to discuss current events, that’s fine.” When Sister Catherine turned back to me, I knew that look on her face. In elementary school, if a teacher wore that expression, it was right before someone got whacked with a ruler. “There was indeed an election in this city yesterday, but Sharon is wrong when she says we elected that man.”
I didn’t dare speak, but the way she said “that man” made my blood boil. Sister Catherine didn’t know the first thing about Harvey. She hadn’t been there for that march.
“Our district has a new supervisor of its own.” Sister Catherine lifted her head, a soft smile spreading across her face. “His name is Dan White, and he’s a good Catholic. The man your classmate is talking about represents a different part of this city. A dangerous part. It’s up to all of us to stand behind our Christian leaders and hold firm against sin.”
I swallowed.
Sister Catherine looked at the clock over the blackboard. “We have twenty minutes left in class. Sharon, you will spend them kneeling before the Blessed Virgin and considering what sort of life you’re choosing for yourself. When the period ends, I’ll speak with your mother.”
My legs wobbled as I stooped next to the statue of Mary. At least this wasn’t a ruler lashing—the teachers don’t usually do those once your age is in double digits—but I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and Sister Catherine’s last sentence was hanging in my mind.
When Mom heard, how much would she piece together? Peter’s been hanging out in the Castro every weekend and sometimes during the week, too, but Mom thinks he’s been putting in extra hours at Javi’s store.
She won’t figure out the truth, will she? Just because I talked about Harvey Milk, and that new initiative on gay teachers?
I didn’t even mean to bring up the teacher initiative,