Page 4 of Gay for Pray (Arport Sacred Sacrament University #1)

Chapter Four

Theodore

THE RESULTS COME OUT over the weekend. I open them immediately, even though I’m sure I made it. I find my name easily enough, but my heart doesn’t clam down. I keep scrolling through the list, and don’t realize until I see his name that that’s what I’m actually looking for.

There it is. Jude Vaughan.

Of course he also made it. I left before his audition, but it figures I’m stuck with him not only in class but also in the liturgical choir. Maybe God is testing me. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve faced this peril.

There’s nothing I can do about it, so I try to forget about it and prepare for class on Monday.

We have some readings to do, but I supplement them with a bit of additional study.

The library has a ton of resources to help me deepen my understanding of the material.

I spend all of Sunday there reading and scribbling notes, ensuring I’m prepared for philosophy class on Monday.

It strikes me that this is exactly the kind of thing Jude would find so repulsive about me.

Good. If he’s disgusted by something I do, I’m probably making a smart choice.

I’m sure he’s spending his weekend doing things that violate the code of conduct, things I don’t want to think about.

The image flits through my brain regardless, but I shove it aside without acknowledging it.

I take a break for lunch, then go right back to the library.

By the time I leave for good, the sun is sinking toward the horizon.

I return to the dining hall for a solitary dinner accompanied by nobody and nothing except my textbooks.

Other students chatter on all sides of me, their frivolous, wasteful conversations flitting past me.

Are they more like me or more like Jude? Is Jude somehow the more “normal” college student out of the two of us?

I shake my head at that. It doesn’t matter. Even if everyone at this massive university thinks I’m a loser and a freak, it won’t change my path. I’ve known since I was a child where my destiny lay, and I’m going to follow it regardless of what anyone else in the world thinks of me.

I squeeze in a little more reading before bed that night. It helps lull me to sleep as the excitement of the next week of classes looms. If I didn’t have Jude to dread, I might not be able to sleep at all, so I suppose I owe him some thanks for tempering my enthusiasm.

When I arrive at my philosophy class on Monday, I make sure to glare at Jude on the way to my seat, but he must have seen the results as well because he grins in response.

My stomach plummets into my feet, but I try not to think about it and take my seat.

Maybe I can ignore him. The choir is huge, twenty members total, so maybe I can pretend he isn’t even there.

It will depend on how the director arranges us.

Suddenly, I wish I’d stayed for his audition so I’d have a clearer idea of where he’ll end up in the arrangement.

I’m on the deeper end of the scale, which sometimes means I stand right behind the mid-range in order to balance the sound.

I set those worries aside as Professor Demsky begins class. She launches into a lecture about our readings from the previous week. I distract myself by taking copious notes. A lot of it is a repeat of the notes I took on my own in the library, but I scribble as though this is brand new information.

My back itches as I work. Once, I dare to glance over my shoulder.

Jude is near the back of the class, smiling, his hands still.

He isn’t even pretending he’s paying attention or taking notes.

He’s just sitting there smiling at me. Is this some kind of mind game?

Is he trying to throw off my whole semester?

It sounds crazy, but could he have joined the choir simply to ruin my studies?

I look away, shaking my head at myself. I’m letting this jerk rattle me.

Even someone like Jude wouldn’t dedicate all his Sunday mornings to singing in a choir simply to mess with me in particular.

There must be some other reason, something I don’t see.

I rack my brain, but I can’t come up with anything…

Until I think about that one quiet guy who plays guitar.

And those two girls. And that other guy.

I don’t know for sure, but I have wondered if they’re…

like Jude. No one would dare ask. No one would kick them out of the choir if they confirmed it.

It’s one of those things that no one wants to talk about.

But what if it’s real? What if there’s some sort of code or language I don’t understand?

Now I really sound paranoid. There’s nothing in the code of conduct that says students can’t be queer.

I’m sure there are some queer students around, and it’s not like they speak in a secret code or something.

If they wanted to form a student organization, they could go ahead and do it.

They wouldn’t have to flock to the liturgical choir in secret.

This is all a series of coincidences and bad luck. As large as A.S.S. Uni. is, students tend to move in flocks. Two philosophy majors who are interested in singing are naturally going to end up in the same places at the same times.

Professor Demsky reaches the end of her lecture, but there’s still some time left in class, so I don’t relax yet.

“Now that we’ve gotten into the material,” she says, “it’s time for your first big assignment of the semester.”

Everyone around me tenses. A few people groan before they can stop themselves, and I imagine one of them is Jude, though I don’t turn to confirm that suspicion.

“You will have some time for this,” the professor continues, “but don’t put it off and try to get it all done at the last minute. We all know that doesn’t work.”

A few nervous chuckles ripple through the room. Most of these people will put off the assignment despite this warning and then scramble to finish it right before the due date. I won’t have any such troubles, however, partly because I won’t be wasting whole weekends recovering from parties.

“I want you all to develop your own thesis,” Professor Demsky says.

“This can be any topic that’s covered in class.

If you’re concerned your topic isn’t on the syllabus, come talk to me and we can figure out a way to make it work.

It has to be related to the subject of the course, but I’m willing to afford you all some wiggle room there.

The important part here is the practice of developing and defending your own argument.

“Near the midterms, you’ll all present your topic to the rest of the class.

You should be prepared to do more than just read your paper out loud in front of everyone.

Think about how you can present ideas and arguments in a way that helps other people understand this information.

Sometimes, that means making it interesting and not just informative, but I’ll leave that determination up to each of you.

I want to see what you come up with without me telling you what to do. ”

I try not to scowl. It would be better to get straightforward instructions instead of having to guess what she wants, but it’s not that different from delivering a sermon, I suppose.

You have to do more than present the information.

You also have to make all your parishioners want to listen to you for half an hour on Sunday morning.

“One other thing,” Professor Demsky says, cutting through the bubbles of chatter that sprang up in response to the first part of the instructions.

Then Professor Demsky says something that turns my stomach into a lead ball.

“This will be a group project.”

A hush sweeps through the room. Everyone hates group assignments, and few people as much as me. If I had to rank the things I hate the most in the world, group projects would probably fall one rung above Jude himself.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Professor Demsky calls above the din that greets this news.

“Relax, it’s not that bad. You can divide the project however you want.

Each group of two simply needs to give me a completed paper and a completed presentation.

One of you can write and one of you can present.

You can both do half of each. I don’t care how you divide the work.

“The point here isn’t to have two people do one project.

The point is to learn the value of collaboration when it comes to philosophy.

A lot of us have this image of the lone philosopher sitting in his armchair smoking a pipe and issuing kernels of wisdom as they strike him, but in reality, philosophy is a collaborative practice.

We learn by sharing ideas, by working together, by arguing—politely—with each other to develop new theories.

You and your partner need to do more than divide up the work for the assignment.

You also have to find common ground and a common thesis to collaborate on.

You can do that however you see fit, but I will expect to hear what your topics are by next Monday. ”

She goes into the schedule for the project, when each step will be due and the checkpoints we need to meet along the way. Then she releases us to go find our own partners.

I hate that she leaves this part open as well. Professor Demsky does not value structure as much as I’d prefer, and that’s evident in the chaos that follows when the entire class is suddenly on their feet trying to figure out who will partner with whom.

I stand as well and scan the room, but I don’t know most of these people.

I’ve had class with a few of them, but I never bothered to remember their names or anything about them.

As a sophomore, I’ve theoretically had time to get to know a few of them, but in practice I’ve kept to myself, assuming the other students can only hold me back.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and do the project on my own.

I count out the class, trying to determine if we’re an odd or even number of people, but it’s too hard with everyone moving around.

I edge toward the back of the class, hoping to figure out who’s left over in this process. Whoever it is is probably a weak student. I’ll have to carry them through the project, but that’s fine by me. Hell, I might even tell them to leave the whole thing to me so they can’t hurt my grade.

I search the room. People are already clustering together, moving desks around, exchanging phone numbers and contact information. I can’t spot anyone who seems to be alone.

Then Jude appears at the back of the class looking just as alone as me.

Our eyes lock as a horrible inevitability passes between us.

I search again, desperate to find any way my worst fears might not come to fruition, but the class is settling down, leaving us more and more isolated.

The truth becomes clearer with every second that passes.

A guy in the back of the class, catching me obviously freaking out, smirks and chuckles.

Even he knows how disastrous this is, and he’s just some random frat bro stranger.

He’s the only one left.

He’s the only one without a partner.

Not only am I going to to be stuck with him in choir, I’m going to be stuck with him as my partner for this project. Jude is going to occupy every moment of my sophomore fall semester, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to get away from him.

God help me.