“Theo?”
Bex’s look confirmed Jil’s suspicions.
“You guys aren’t friends, are you?” she said, a little incredulously.
Bex shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Then why do you care what he thinks?”
Bex exhaled slowly and scuffed her toe along the floor. “It’s complicated.”
“What? Are you afraid he’s going to out you? Is he bullying you?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“If he’s bothering you, you should talk to Ms. Blake.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No?”
Jil heard footsteps coming down the hall. With an instinct she couldn’t quite identify, she knew to stop talking.
“I’d like you to keep that in mind,” she said, raising her eyebrows to signal Bex. “The more classes you miss, the more detentions you’re going to have.”
Bex snuck a look at the door and saw what Jil had already guessed: Theo lurked outside.
“Yeah, okay, Miss,” she said, looking at the floor again. “I’ll try not to miss anymore class. When do I have to come for detention?”
“Tomorrow. During lunch.”
Bex smiled a little, her back to the door. “I’ll be here.”
The next morning, Jil had barely come in the door at school when her name was paged over the PA system. “Ms. Kinness, please come to the office. Ms. Kinness.”
Jil sighed and turned toward the front office, knowing as she did that she was headed straight for Jess’s closed door.
Jess waved her in, as she hung up the phone. “Have a seat,” she said, standing up from her desk and joining Jil at the small round table. “Sorry to pull you in so early.”
“Sorry I have to be pulled in at all.”
Jess gave her a sympathetic smile, belying the gravity on her face.
“You have some idea why you’re here?”
“I can guess.”
“Theodore Ranieri has decided to file a formal complaint against you.”
“That sounds more serious than is warranted,” Jil replied mildly. “He’s in a World Religions class. We were discussing religions of the world, and the possibility of an ulterior motive existing behind Scripture.”
“Did you tell him that homosexuals aren’t sinners?”
Jil pursed her lips. “I don’t think those were my exact words, no.”
Jess sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair.
“I can’t in good conscience tell a student that gays and lesbians are going to hell,” Jil said. Her temper flared, but Jess didn’t take the bait. Nor did she agree with Theo. “Nowhere in the Bible does it say that,” Jil pressed. “And even if it did, I wouldn’t teach that.”
“Okay.”
“Are you going to tell me I have to?”
Jess sighed again. “This is a little complicated,” she said. “Seeing as it’s a senior class, and seeing that it’s a World Religions course, I think there’s a lot of room to debate. But, Julia, I think you need to remember that this is a Catholic school, and there are some fundamentalists in the room that you’re going to have to deal with. Ideally, we’re all supposed to be good Catholics. Which means that in the course of your class, you can’t be perceived as advocating for homosexuality.”
Jil snorted. “I’m hardly running a recruitment center. I’m simply arguing that the students should think critically about what they’re reading and what they believe. Don’t you think?” There was so much more she wanted to ask her. So much more she wanted to hear. But Jess only nodded and sighed.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could have more of that?” she said. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to teach. I’m also not going to tell you what you can and cannot say in front of your students. However…”
Jil watched Jess’s face flicker from slight amusement to fatigue. “Julia, Theo Ranieri is suggesting that you’re a lesbian.” She paused for a moment to give Jil an opportunity to jump in.
She said nothing. She was too angry. Too outraged that in this day and age, she would even be having this conversation. The investigation taking a backseat to her emotions, she let her eyes settle on Jess, daring her to say something.
“Oh, boy,” she muttered.
Jil said nothing. Jess was the principal. She’d obviously asked for this job. Let her handle it.
“Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?”
“I’m not asking,” Jess snapped. “It’s none of my business. I’m not interested.”
Jil swallowed hard. Her words stung.
“With regards to Theo,” Jess said tightly. “I told him, of course, that his suggestion was serious and inappropriate, and that I didn’t think it was a worthwhile use of his time to speculate about his teachers’ personal lives.”
Jil remained silent.
Jess exhaled, seeming to collect herself a little. “However, in this board, teachers sign a contract which holds them responsible for living a Catholic lifestyle.” Her voice was tense, and she couldn’t quite meet Jil’s eyes. Was it because she knew this conversation was ridiculous—backward, and wrong? Or because she felt like a hypocrite?
Jil snorted. “C’mon, Jess.”
“I didn’t invent the rules.”
“But you live by them, right?”
For the first time, Jess’s face registered real fear. A tense silence hung between them. Jil’s insides writhed, her indignation about this assignment and all the implications boiling over until she was sure she’d say something she’d regret. She tried to rein herself in. Jess wasn’t responsible for the hypocrisy of an entire school board.
“I have the Parents’ Association breathing down my neck,” Jess finally said, changing the subject. “DiTullio’s in here every second Friday wondering what I’m doing about promoting Catholic education. I’m sure you see why this…issue…would be a problem for me.”
Jil dropped her gaze to her lap and took a deep breath. “I signed no such contract,” she said flatly. “Nor would I.”
Jess recovered quickly. “No, because you’re a contracted employee. You technically don’t have to even be Catholic to work here for a semester. However, I would ask you to consider the climate of the school you’re working in. This is a very conservative community. Your relationship status is nobody else’s business, and it’s doubtful anyone would ask you about it. But it would probably be in your best interests to act as if you abided by the Catholic code of conduct.”
Jil had to look away. It was just too ironic. “I understand,” she said.
“There are ways to redirect people’s questions,” Jess continued gently. “I think you’re a skilled teacher. Your students seem to have respect for you; attendance in your class is good, considering incidences earlier in the year; Buck has no problems with you that he’s identified to me. What you teach is largely your own business, but unfortunately, the repercussions land on my desk, and I prefer that they don’t. If it’s possible to steer clear of these issues, maybe you could consider it.”
Jil let that sink in. She didn’t understand why this riled her so much. Jess was entitled to her own opinion—her own methods. She was the one who had to do this job and live this life, day by day. What did she want her to do? Go blaring up to World Religions to tell that idiot Theo to stop being so goddamned homophobic? To publicly condemn Christianity and all the various ways people twisted it for their own purposes? She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that and keep her job; that was for damn sure.
Even if Jess did seem to agree with her on a fundamental level, why would she risk her job over an incident like this? She’d worked hard to get here.
Just shut up and do your assignment, then get the hell out of here, she told herself.
Still, she realized it had gotten personal now. Theo irked her. The entire Catholic code of conduct irked her. Who the hell were they to tell her that homosexuality was punishable by an eternity at a burning stake?
“What would you
like me to do?”
Jess shook her head. “I’d like you to use your best judgment,” she said, emphasizing “best.” “I think you’ll make the right choices.”
The phone rang, interrupting. Thank God.
“We can talk again next week,” Jess said as she went to answer it.
Jil quietly closed the door and kept her chin held high as she walked through the main office to the atrium. Everyone pretended not to stare.
During second period, Buck Weekly unexpectedly showed up in her class. “Just here to observe,” he said as he took a seat in the back. Theo had returned again and made no eye contact as he slipped into his chair.
Jil had no intention of playing “excuse me for interrupting” with Buck, or of capitulating to Theo. This class was taking up way too much of her time. Having no patience for any of Buck’s lectures today, she turned out the lights and turned on a video. A video that Buck, in fact, had given her. Seeing that nothing exciting was going to happen, he rose quietly and left the room, glaring at her as he passed.
She let another five minutes pass and switched the film off. The class groaned.
“I’m sorry,” Jil said. “Were you all enjoying the wisdom of the Dalai Lama?”
“Yes!” Joey answered, wiping crumbs from the corner of her mouth as she yawned.
“Yeah, whatever,” Kyle said. “You were just enjoying your nap.”
“I thought his point of view on violence was interesting,” Brianna said. Two participation points in two days. It was a new record.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your upcoming test.”
“Test! What test? You never told us about a test!” A chorus of protests erupted.
“If you’ll refer to your syllabus,” Jil said calmly, leafing through her binder to find her own copy. “You’ll notice the test is scheduled for one week from today. That gives you plenty of time to study. Now, what I’d like to do for the rest of the period is to discuss the topics that will be covered.”
For the next half hour, that’s what they did—Jil keeping a close eye on the door in case Buck made another surprise visit.
When the bell rang, Bex stayed in her seat. Theo also lingered as the rest of the students left. “Bex, don’t forget your detention with me,” Jil said, keeping her face grave.
Bex nodded soberly. “’Kay, Miss,” she said. “Do I really have to do three days in a row?”
“Well, if you missed three days in a row, don’t you think it’s fair?” Jil countered, seriously.
Bex shrugged. “Guess I don’t have a say anyway. Is it here?”
“No, I think we’d better go down to my office. I’ve got my extra work assignment for you there.”
Bex said nothing, but the way she followed closely behind Jil told her that Bex’s fear was physical as well as emotional. Jil knew she would talk when she was ready, and in the meantime, if she preferred detention to whatever she faced in between classes, so be it. She didn’t mind staying an extra forty-five minutes every day to help out a kid. Gave her extra time to investigate, anyway.
When she’d closed the door, Bex relaxed into a chair, exhaling audibly. “So what’s the extra work?” she asked, smiling shyly.
Jil smiled back. It was nice to see a lighter look on Bex’s face. She always looked so serious. Way too grave for such a young kid.
“Well, I guess you might as well use the time to catch up on what you’ve missed,” she said. “A few chapters, some homework assignments. I’ve made you a folder.”
Bex opened the blue folder on the table. “This isn’t so bad,” she said. “Maybe I’ll even finish early.”
“Oh yeah? You’re that good, eh?”
“Sure, when I put my mind to it. When I’m not distracted.”
“By what?”
“I like Wii,” Bex said, running a hand through her cropped dark hair. “I play it almost every night. I love the ski jumps.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. I’m dead serious. We have it on in the residence common room. Gideon and I play almost every night.”
“Gideon? Little Gideon?”
“My little brother Gideon?”
“Little brother? Gideon’s your little brother?”
“Yeah, Miss. He’s the whole reason I’m in this hole to begin with. No offense.”
“Don’t worry about it. What do you mean, though?”
“We’re in the Pathways program because our case manager couldn’t find a decent foster home for us both to be in. She said she might be able to get us into the program here, even though Gideon is technically a bit young, and I’m technically a bit gay.”
Jil smiled. “Well, I guess it worked.”
“Yeah. And practically the only time I get to see him is when we’re both sitting in front of the TV screen. Mr. Weekly has him marching around on Outdoor Education trips every weekend, and in some study program during the week.”
“And that’s the reason you don’t do your homework?”
“Umm…well, yeah. Not a lot of spare time, you know? Well, maybe you don’t know.”
“I do.”
Bex looked up at her, surprised. “You do?”
Jil nodded. “I was almost in this program myself, but I got placed in my fourth foster home instead. At eighteen, I left there and moved straight into a dorm room. Not a lot of privacy there either.”
“Wow,” said Bex. “We only had two homes before this one. Our parents are addicts.”
Jil bit her lip. “That’s tough.” She looked up at the clock, and when she looked back, Bex had her head bent over her textbook. Jil smiled and opened her own book—a fundamentalist Catholic view on life. She lost no time in skimming through it, trying to figure out if she’d missed a rule. So far, she figured she had the basics: no adultery, no sex, no homosexuality, no sex, no theft, coveting or murder, and no sex. Lots of rules…and lots of guilty staff members. She wouldn’t have any difficulty writing this report at all. If she left her conscience out of it.
Talking to Bex reminded her how long it had been since she’d talked to Elise. If Padraig knew, he’d say she was deliberately avoiding bad news.
She took out her notebook and made a few jots. For the moment, she left out her conversation with Jessica Blake. That, she wasn’t quite ready to put in.
Chapter Ten
Her stupid trouser socks had left a dent around her left calf, as usual, and the mud on the bottom of her pants meant they’d have to be washed—and ironed—again. Five for five this week, she thought.
Standing topless behind the curtain, her backlit profile probably visible for everybody in the street below to see, she hurriedly rooted through her drawers for the cami and long-sleeved T-shirt she wanted.
Ducking low, she hurried out of the closet and through the bedroom to the side hall where she’d left a basket of clean laundry for the past three days. At the bottom was her pajama top. And another open window. And two neighborhood geriatrics out walking their dog.
Jil ducked back into her bedroom, on her knees behind the bed, and quickly put on the shirts. Then she ran around, shutting every set of drapes in the loft before heading into the kitchen for some peanut butter crackers.
She arranged the saltines in a circle on the plate, took out some strawberry jam from the cupboard, and searched for the peanut butter. Of course it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She’d been so distracted lately she’d probably put it in the freezer—or the car.
When she opened the fridge for some jam, she saw it, staring at her from beside the milk.
Grumpily, Jil took down the soft plastic jar and carried it over to the counter. She turned the lid, expecting it to come off smoothly in her hand. Nothing happened. She turned it again, harder. It was stuck. Very stuck. Stuck as tight as Theo Raneri’s Christian Fundamentalist convictions.
How the hell could the peanut butter lid be impossible to open? It was plastic, for God’s sake. On a plastic jar. This never happened. Tomato sauce? Occasion
ally. Pickles? Often. But peanut butter? With determination, she turned the lid again, grunting with the effort. The ridge left a long red dent in her left hand.
She took the jar and ran it under hot water—because that’s the only thing she could think of to do. And it didn’t work. She banged it with a spoon. Which made her feel marginally better, but did nothing for the jar.
Her frustration was mounting. How the fuck can you not open a goddamned jar? Surely it can’t be that difficult! Is it the underlying gene of sinners? Everything you touch goes to hell? She had visions of herself on Just for Laughs, a camera hidden in her pantry while she struggled with this trick jar, and that made her angrier.
With a grunt, she banged the lid of the jar against the counter. Over and over. It dented the faux wood, but did not release. She threw the jar hard against the tile. The lid shattered. Peanut butter sprayed upward onto the table and chairs, streaking across the floor.
Gingerly, Jil picked up the unharmed plastic jar and fished out bits of green lid. Then she mopped up the peanut butter on the table legs and the little puddles on the floor.
Then, when the mess was cleaned up, she very calmly put her knife into the jar, scooped out some peanut butter, and methodically covered each cracker with the thick brown spread.
There. She’d managed. She wasn’t a complete loser. Even if she never would understand why that lid hadn’t come off. Once her tantrum had faded, she felt sheepish. She smiled ruefully to herself as she licked her fingers.
“Very good for you,” she chastised herself, speaking specifically to her hips. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend…”
Upstairs, she pored back through her notes, making adjustments to the master chart. This was her new Friday night ritual—transferring all the scribbled cryptic data from her journal to the master chart. J.B. still stood blank—as blank as Buck Weekly—though Jil was sure she wasn’t half as virtuous.
“Divorced” at least should have been checked off. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain” too. But Jil couldn’t bring herself to foul Jess’s character. She couldn’t believe Jess had done anything to warrant losing her job. Her livelihood. The respect of the community.
UnCatholic Conduct Page 11
