The thing I’ve always hated the most about transferring to a new school is adjusting to the layout of the building. My old school was in a crowded, urban neighborhood, so to conserve space, the school consisted of just one big, gray, economical building that contained all offices and classes; most rooms, not bordering the outside, did not have windows, and I rarely left indoors during the school day. However, the school I recently transferred to on scholarship, St. Peter’s Catholic School, which is built in a wealthy area with space aplenty, has separate buildings for each department that are spaced apart by winding paths, gardens, and fountains. One day, when I got lost on the school’s extensive campus on the way to class, I rounded a corner and saw something shocking on the other side.

In a shaded, empty, outdoor, hallway stood two girls, one of which was being pressed up against the wall by the other. The trapped girl initially tried to fight against her oppressor’s hold, but the more aggressive girl held her in place. Eventually though, a sense of calm washed over the girls’ faces and they stopped fighting each other. They just stood gazing into each other’s eyes for what seemed like eternity, their staring so intense that they didn’t even notice me standing there silently at the end of the hall.

“Do something!” I thought, “Kiss. Hug. Embrace. Just do something!” is what my mind kept shouting at the girls. It occurred to me then that I had never seen a homosexual couple before. I knew they had to exist. How can a group of people be hated so vehemently by so many people if it didn’t exist? But I had never seen one before. My own parents are straight. All of my neighbors’ parents are straight. Every couple I ever see on television or in magazines is straight. Lesbianism also seemed like a rumor, something that only concerned other people, but here before me stood two lesbians, and they weren’t even doing anything!

I thought back to every boy I’ve ever kissed. There was never any passion between us. I never felt that spark of love that I’ve been told is supposed to occur when people become physically intimate with someone they love. I don’t even find boys to be that attractive. But I’ve never once pursued a girl, probably because I’ve never viewed being gay as an option. I thought back to a girl I met in my English class the other day. She had long, curly, strawberry blonde hair, clear green eyes, and perfect skin. I thought she was attractive from the moment I saw her. I’ve never fallen for a boy that quickly.

“Come on, do something!” I thought again at the strangers across the hall, “Darn it! Just kiss already! Make me feel like my desires aren’t wrong!” As if in response to my unspoken commands, the more aggressive of the two lesbians began to move in on the girl she still had pressed up against the wall, and her partner did not resist. I began to thank the school for its confusing layout, for if I had arrived on time to class, I would never have seen this. Their lips were almost together when two students, chatting with each other, turned the corner behind me. Upon hearing the noise, the two girls abandoned their affair and instantly separated to avoid being detected. Looking at them now, nobody would be able to tell that they were anything more than friends. Just friends…

I thought back to the beautiful redhead in my English class. Friends. That’s all we’ll ever be, if even that.