I headed in the direction he had indicated. For a moment, the sound of our footsteps mingled, then his faded into the distance and mine alone echoed.

When I was fifteen, a high school sophomore, another girl, a senior, had seduced me. After I got over my initial shock, I discovered both the power and release of sex. Misty was head cheerleader, a popular senior, and she wanted something from me. Desire became a powerful connection between us. Misty would wait until I got off from my job at a burger place. The head cheerleader waiting for a skinny, dark bayou girl. It was a heady experience. Then, in the car her parents had given her, we would drive somewhere quiet and still, and eagerly fumble with each other’s clothes, both afraid of discovery, too shy and awkward to fully undress. Our hands would travel to the forbidden places. Our secret became delicious, whole and powerful, a hidden desire that we each gave permission for the other to explore. It became something that only we possessed.

Misty was, like a proper cheerleader, dating the captain of the football team, Ned. But Ned, too, had a secret. He and his best friend Brian were lovers. The four of us, with our shared secrets, gave me a power and closeness I had never known before. It was the first time since my father’s death that I felt I belonged somewhere. Finding out at fifteen that I was a pervert, a queer, was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Two secrets ruled my life. One was destructive, held only by myself and someone who simply used me; the other bound me closely to three people and gave me the profound freedom that would shape my life. The knife always has a double edge.

Misty and I occasionally talked of love, but there was no path, no way to protect those youthful embers. I couldn’t wear her class ring, go openly on dates with her, even hold hands in the movies. Fear of discovery was constant.

The school year ended, she graduated. We made no promises to each other. Then she was gone, off to college on the West Coast. I was left with a secret I could share with no one during those long school days. But I had learned of the bars in the French Quarter, and I was tall enough to get in. Sex is what connected me to Misty, and sex is what connected me to the women I met in those bars.

I came to the right turn in the hallway.

What conjunction of secrets had led me to connecting only through sex? Bayard, teaching me that caring and trust had no currency, that the only value I had was what I could offer physically. Add to that foundation the twilight world of bars and alcohol, an arena so small and confined for women to meet other women in. Sexuality and sex, hidden for so long in so many ways, became the focal point. Having sex isn’t that big a sin when you’re already queer.

I was finally, in fits and starts, beginning to get beyond those early lessons to a place where touching was a way to show love and caring and concern, wasn’t a replacement for them. Uncharted land is the most terrifying place to go. If I wanted a reason for not being able to call Cordelia, that was it.

But I wasn’t here to remember my past or solve the problems of my future. I knocked on the door to the principal’s office.

“Come in,” Warren Kessler called out. He had a large office, stacks of books and papers everywhere. Children’s drawings lined one wall. “Welcome to my chaos,” Kessler greeted me. He stood up, extending his hand.

“Chaos and I are well acquainted,” I answered, taking his hand. His grasp was warm, lasting just long enough to be friendly.

“Why did I suspect that?” he bantered as we sat down.

“Male intuition,” I replied, then said, “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Kessler?”

“Please, call me Warren. I’m not sure. Just…there are some things that have been nagging at me, and I thought you might be the one to help.”

“How so?”

“You were worried about Cissy Selby?”