Chapter 11
I sat in our living room, trying to read a stupid French book. I had a test on it come Monday, but I really didn’t give a care about D’Artagnan and his musketeers. I’d been cooped up in the apartment since Tuesday and today was Saturday. Nick had come around twice, but each time, my mother had yelled at him through the window in the door and scared him off. I couldn’t blame him. There was no arguing with Dolores O’Reilly.
Bored out of my mind and restless, I tossed the six-hundred-page book on the coffee table and stood. I was bleary-eyed and my head felt heavy on my neck. I needed fresh air. I crept down the hall, checking my mother’s bedroom door. She was in there watching a movie. “Mom,” I said very quietly so that she couldn’t hear. “I’m gay. And I’m gonna have s*x with Ni
