Chapter Two: From "A Good Pot of Red Sauce".

I made my way to Homeroom 110. The scheduling for the curriculum went alphabetically. So, I was not going to have one class with Marie for the next four years, because my last name started with an L and hers with an A. The only time I was going to see her was either in the hallways or in detention. More than likely, it was going to be in detention.
My homeroom smelled like mothballs, which reminded me of my Nanna’s hall closet. As I sat in my seat, I scanned the room. I did not know a soul. I, for some strange reason, decided to sit in the front row. This would also be my seat for the rest of the year, as our homeroom Sister informed us. To my horror I found myself seated in the row with a bunch of geeks. Behind us in the back were very loud Irish blondes with frizzed out perms, all were preps with their polo shirt collars turned up. There was only one black girl, Tonya, who introduced herself to me with a smile full of metal. I half smiled back. She seemed nice enough, but I was not in the mood to chat.
“Welcome new Susie Scholasticans,” Sr. Marybeth’s voice boomed over the PA.
I was to learn “Susie Scholastica,” was the nickname for all the girls who attended SSA.
“As you walk through these halls for the next four years, bellowed Sr. Marybeth, you will become a woman of the future.”
I felt like I was in an episode of the Twilight zone, waiting to be sucked through the coatroom and up into the cosmos.
I heard groans from the back: at least I was not the only one feeling that it was going to be a long four years, especially when I looked down at the class schedule that was staring back at me. I’ll admit (never to my mother) that I was no scholar in grammar school. I did not do very well on my entrance exams. Consequently I was placed in all remedial classes my first semester of freshman year. I looked around putting my hand over my schedule, now understanding why I got those pathetic looks from the bookstore cashier when I had bought my books for school. I felt like I had a scarlet ‘D’ on my uniform. My mother was right once again; if I had just applied myself at Bethesda maybe I could have gone to Lane Tech, instead of being at an all girls parochial school trying to relearn Basic English grammar and Algebra.
Marie was bubbling over with excitement when I ran into her in the hallway later in the morning. It just added to the nausea I was already feeling with my discovery that I just might be the academic reject my parents suspected me of being!
“How’s your morning going?”
“Hmm, I am heading off to religion class.”
I left out telling her it was my only non-remedial class of the year besides French.
Marie gave me a funny look.
“O, my gosh, she knows", I thought to myself.
But she only said, “Now, Gianna please don’t tell the nuns that you are an atheist and get yourself kicked out of class, like you did last year in Mr. Campton’s class.”
Oh, that’s right, I had almost forgotten about that one. Why had I not thought about that when I was screaming at my mother about why I should not be sent to a Catholic high school?
You see that’s another reason why I should not be attending this school! I started to doubt way back when I was in sixth grade, or thought I did. In reality, I just liked the way the word Atheist sounded. It was a cooler-sounding word than Lutheran, which seemed to get lodged in the back of my throat whenever I said it to anyone. Of course, I had no real clue what being an atheist meant, but I just wanted something to use against my mother to try and get out of going to Sunday school. I was getting sick of hearing the same old stories about Jesus and the Twelve Apostles, plus it was just a pain in the butt to get up at 7:30 on a Sunday morning.
This whole thing about being an atheist started when I asked my dad why he never attended church with us, and he said, “I just don’t believe in it.”
At first I was shocked, I thought, oh my god, my father is going to hell!
“What do you believe in?”
He said, “nothing, I am an atheist”.
So, the next morning, I announced to my mother, that I was an atheist, and because of this newfound knowledge, I would no longer be attending Sunday school.
“Have you *@#@* been talking to your father!” She screamed almost choking on her stream of expletives.
“Maybe,” I said as I scooped more Honey Grahams in my mouth.
“Don’t you maybe me, you little shit!”
I swear my mother was a sailor in her last life, and when she got going, there was no stopping until she ran out of words that I had never heard in my life. This is coming from a woman who cries when “Amazing Grace” is sung at church.
When she eventually did stop with the swear words, she told me that I was never to speak to my father about religious matters again. And yes, I was still going to Sunday school.

Making my way down the dimly lit hallway to the first religion class of my high-school experience, I thought to myself about how when I first said to Mr. Campton that I was an atheist, his jaw dropped so low you would have thought I said the word fuck to him.
Walking into Sr. Agnes’ class, I knew that there would be no rattling her cage. It was best to just keep my mouth shut. She glared at me from across the room as I took my seat. It was as if she could read my soul, or maybe it was just my body language that told her that I don’t give a shit about the whole idea of believing that some God was looking down on us from the heavens. But, I could feel the burn of her stare, and that just creeped me out.
Sitting there staring at the blackboard with the smell of mothballs invading my senses and thoughts I wondered why I was so full of angst? I heard a church bell ring twice. That meant one of the nuns over at the Nunnery next to the high school had gone and met her maker. This I heard at orientation from one of the seniors. I wouldn’t call this place a cheery learning environment. It was something straight out of a Dickens novel, hard backed chairs, wooden floors, grey walls; nothing inspiring to the budding scholar here, as if I fell into that category.
What was Marie so cheery about? Is this the same girl that procrastinated on deciding where she was going to go to high-school the whole summer, and then on the last day of registration decided on attending SSA due not to her religious beliefs, but because it was conveniently located in front of her house!
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