When I had completed upchucking my partially digested lunch (yum), I went to the nurses office and was sent home. My mom wanted to take my temperature, but I refused. I knew it was nerves, and I didn't want to hear my dad go on about how I was skipping school. Which, in his defense, I guess I sort of was? It was totally warranted though.

I had just kissed my best friend. All the girls I had kissed by then had made me feel dirty. I knew I was having impure thoughts—being an adolescent boy wasn't a good enough excuse in my mind. Kissing a boy just solidified the fact that I would be sent to Hell.

Ruminating on my unsalvageable soul made me get sick—repeatedly. In a way all my puking was good. If they thought I was faking, all the noise I was making proved otherwise. At one point I went to the bathroom to piss, and I overhead my dad lamenting how I better not have the stomach flu because he didn't want it. As soon as the bathroom door was shut, I flipped him off.

I barely got any sleep that night, plagued with trying to figure out how to fix this. First off, I would apologize to Daryl as soon as possible. Then I decided I needed to confess my sins. That in it of itself sent me into a panic.

What if I went to confession and it wasn't good enough? What if the priest I spoke with had to tell the nuns who were my teachers everything? I already was getting shit for my struggling grades. Even though I was nearly graduated, would my high school life be harder academically because they knew that I had kissed a boy?

I didn't want that. For as long as I could remember, I went to church. I was in the choir. I was an alter boy. I had my communion. For all intents and purposes, I was deeply religious.

What was worse, I actually believed. I had spent the past two years wondering what I had done that God would be punishing me by giving me such a shitty family. This in turn made me feel even worse. God knew everything. Did He know I wasn't straight before I even knew? I also was fighting with myself if I cared or not.

If He knew my sexuality before I did, why was it wrong? Why did God care if I liked boys? Furthermore, if He had created us, wouldn't that mean He created the ability for us to feel those things? In all my studies, I had never found a definitive answer to that question. I couldn't understand why homosexuality and all its variations of queerness were sinful. No one could explain it to me, other than it Just Was.

And now that I had actually sinned...Did it matter? It seemed like I was preemptively being punished by God. If He was making my life miserable because I wasn't straight, was there even any salvation for me? It seemed a definitive answer; God was punishing me for not being straight, even though I still hadn't rightly muddled through all that myself.

I was a lost cause.

By the time morning came around I had a terrible headache. Even so, I put on a fresh uniform and made my way to the bus. It wasn't until third period did I fully understand how much shit I was in.

I was directed to the priests office, the one who served as principal. Even though logic told me otherwise, I was convinced that it had to do with me kissing Daryl. But that didn't make sense; no one could possibly know I had kissed Daryl, right?

Right?

However, once I entered the office, I wanted to die right there. My parents sat on one side of the office, while Daryl and his mom sat across from them. As I moved to the empty chair between my parents, Daryl glanced at me. When I sat he looked at me, red faced, before casting his eyes to his lap.

"Mr. Bauwens," the principle greeted gruffly.

I quickly made the sign of the cross, clasped my hands together, and gave a quick bow of my head to the priest. "Father."

The priest, someone whom I had always liked and looked up to, let out a long, slow sigh. Before speaking, he steepled his hands over his desk. My eyes flitted to the huge painting of Mother Mary, sitting perfectly in  her dark gold frame, behind the priest. I swallowed thickly and wiped my palms on my pants.

"Before we begin," the old priest rumbled, voice reminding me of thunder, "I assume you know why we are gathered here, Orion?"

I struggled to swallow again, casting my eyes down from the priests bespectacled face to the silver cross necklace hanging against his robes, before looking him back in the face. Then I glanced at Daryl, who still wasn't looking at me and was still horribly red. I wasn't stupid enough to look at my parents.

The priest held up his hand before I even spoke. "Remember, Orion, where we are, and that being dishonest is a sin."

I wanted to throw myself on the ground and prostrate before him, begging for forgiveness. As it was, I was trying horribly hard to not burst into tears. When I spoke, clenching my uniform pants in my fists, my voice cracked several times.

"D-does it h-have anything t-to do w-w-with yesterday?"

The priest looked displeased, giving a curt nod. I clenched the fabric in my hands harder as my vision became blurry with tears.

"In your own words, what happened on the playground?"

My stuttering became unmanageable, and the first tears leaked out of my eyes. I could barely understand myself; I only hoped they understood my words between the crying, my stuttering, and my cracking, high-pitched voice.

"I was talking to Daryl. We were smoking. He was trying to help me with some stuff. And, well, I was so grateful for his help that I—that I—that I—"

My lips betrayed me. I couldn't get it out.

"You what, Orion?"

I now clasped my hands at my chest, breaking down. "Please forgive me Father for I have sinned. I kissed Daryl."

"Do you admit to other impure thoughts?"

Why lie now? "Yes."

"Such as?"

I felt myself blush. "I—um—well, I have urges."

"And have you acted on these urges?"

Not wanting to throw anyone under the bus, I remained vague. "I've kissed a few girls in my grade. And I—"

I wasn't about to admit my self-exploration in front of my priest, my parents, and my best friend's mom. I prayed it was evident by how badly I was blushing that they would come to the proper conclusion.

"Was this the first time you kissed a boy?"

"Yes," I stuttered.

"I have already spoken privately with Daryl. With the evidence provided, I regret to say that I must expell you both."

There was a round of stunned silence. I had stopped crying abruptly, shocked.

"Why me?" Daryl squeaked.

"You admitted to having your own impure thoughts, and of acting on impulses. And while I thank you for your confession, I feel that you did little to dissuade Orion from kissing you."

I jumped to my feet. "What! No! It was me! I kissed him, that's not his fault! Punish me! Punish me!"

"Sit down, Orion."

I fell back into my chair, fresh tears coming in waves.

"Furthermore," the priest continued. "I would feel uncomfortable with the two boys attending St. Paul's in the fall."

"Where will they go to high school then?" Daryl's mom asked, sounding faint.

"But what about confession?" I asked desperately. "What if—is there a program we can attend or something?"

The priest was shaking his head.

"But—there has to be something I can do. I'll do whatever it takes—"

"Orion, I have made my decision."

"But—"

"Mr. Bauwens! You should have thought of that when you wanted to act on your homosexual thoughts, and when you gave into pleasures of the flesh!"

I wish he would have slapped me instead of saying all that. I was mortified.

"A sin is a sin! This church upholds God's will to the fullest. As such, I cannot in good conscience—nor in accordance with the oaths I have taken—allow sinners to continue schooling where they might corrupt other children!"

I could barely breathe.

The rest of the meeting was a blur. I felt like I had thick earmuffs on suddenly, and I couldn't hear anything properly. When everything was said and done, and Daryl's mom had stopped trying to weasel her son out of things, and I was trailing behind my parents as we walked to our car, one terrifying thought kept replaying in my head.

What the fuck was I about to go home to?