Silver Silk

Lesson Two: I'm Not Just Gay Or Just Straight

Don't Be So Ignorant

Even though I just wanted an excuse to escape Joe, I did actually have Religion. I grabbed my bag from my locker and made my way to my Religion class. My school requires us to take a Humanity, and I chose Religion. 

"Say!"

I turned around. It was my best friend, Rachel, with her thick black dreads and full purple lips. She was autistic, and she knew I was bisexual.

"Hi Rach," I grinned. "Hug day?"

"Mm, go on," she said. We hugged.

That was the great thing about Rachel. She didn't get weirded out when I hugged her or attempted to do her hair. She didn't think Oh, Sayaka's gay, so she must be hitting on me. No, with Rach it was more Sayaka's gay. Cool. And then moving on.

Now, I wouldn't say that my Religion teacher was homophobic, but she was homophobic big time. She'd 'preach' against gay rights, but subtly, so she couldn't be fired because we had no proof. She'd once caught two lesbians kissing in the toilets and invented a story to get them expelled according to school legend.

I slid into my seat. Normally, I sat next to nobody, so I had plenty of room to spread out my colours and biros and pencils across the whole desk. And I'd just started doing that when somebody I didn't recognise immediately walked into the room.

And then I did.

Fidda Claes, the popular girl who'd be remembered for tearing down the Islamophobic teacher who tried to get her to remove her hijab (he was fired). Curvy and gold-skinned, she walked straight up to the teacher as I'd never seen anybody do before.

"I've just been transferred from Mr. Gibb's class," she said in her sweet accent. It was a mix between something that resembled a French accent and an accent I didn't know. "May I have a seat?"

Damn.

"Sit next to Sayaka, then." I waved at the teacher's words and nearly knocked everything off my desk - sorry, our desk now - as I hastened to make room for her.

She placed a pile of multicoloured journals onto her desk, next to a bright, metallic pencil case and a clear, plastic tomb of gel pens. I looked at them jealously as she opened up her exercise book, got out a sparkly indigo pen and wrote the date in neat, calligraphic letters across the top of her page.

"Um, hi," I said quietly. "I'm Sayaka. You're Fidda, right? My, uh... my friend knows you, I think. Or's in one of your classes."

"Oh, right," said Fidda, giving me a slightly strange look before going back to setting out her page.

Great impression, Say. You dumbass.