Chapter 30|I'm a lesbian

"Shit, I almost forgot." Caleb reached to the table beside his bed. "Your birthday present."

He held up a blue, green and purple friendship bracelet.

I raised an eyebrow. "You made that yourself?"

"Damn straight. That's the real deal. You always complained that my friendship bracelet making skills sucked when we were kids, so I made it my personal mission to master the art. It's not like I was short on time or anything." He gestured for me to give him my hand, where he tied the string bracelet around my wrist.

I brought it closer to my line of sight, examining it. "Wow, it's actually pretty alright." I was impressed with his handiwork, and I knew it must've taken him a long time. I can say without a doubt that he screwed up more times than I can count in my fingers, and maybe my toes.

"Alright? That thing isn't alright, it's fucking awesome," he exclaimed.

I laughed, admiring it. "You're right, it is pretty awesome."

Caleb and I had this thing where when either of us had a birthday, we'd make each other something. It's not like we didn't want to buy each other anything, but it was just easier and more personal. Most years we were apart, and the present had to be sent in a letter, so it made more sense. Plus, depending where Caleb was, kind of dictated what he had to work with. He wasn't a magician, although he liked to think he was, so he couldn't just pull something out of thin air. I didn't mind though, in fact I liked it that way.

~*~*~*~

Art class was a struggle. The fact that I was once again a loner didn't make the hour go any faster either. Ryan wasn't there. I didn't know why because he wouldn't reply to any of my texts. He wouldn't even talk to Kyle which was saying something. I had decided not to worry about him because there was nothing I could do about it, and all I ended up with was a headache.

There was a light tap on my shoulder. Annie stood there in all her blonde glory, although she looked a little more flustered than usual.

"Can I talk to you?" She looked around at the other people in the room, who weren't paying any attention to us. But she seemed on edge. "Like, alone."

"Uh, yeah I guess," I said cautiously. Why did she want to talk to me of all people? I figured I was the last person she'd want to talk to.

"Good." She grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of the classroom. She dragged me all the way to the girls bathroom, looking under each stall door, making sure each was empty before she started talking.

"Okay, so you probably think I'm like completely, crazy but hear me out," she started.

I have to say I was curious at this point. When someone physically drags you to the bathroom, it's either for a swirly, or to tell you something extremely important. I was hoping it was the latter. "Okay, what is it?"

She looked around self consciously, closing her eyes for a brief moment and letting out a breath. "Okay, I'm just going to, like, get this over with."

"I'm a lesbian."

I blinked once, twice, three times. Her facial expression didn't change. I half expected her to burst into a fit of giggles and fall on the floor, but that reaction didn't seem to be on the cards.

"Right...so why are you telling me this?" I asked skeptically. Surely she'd rather tell someone she was actually friends with.

"Well I just, like, had to tell someone," she replied.

"Why me?"

"Well as much as I don't like you, I know that you won't, like, spread rumours or anything because you know what that feels like," she spoke truthfully. "You won't, like, tell anyone right?"

I shook my head. "No, of course not."

"Okay good," she said with a sigh of relief.

We stood in a moment of awkward silence. "So it's really true then?" I pondered.

"Yeah."

"So that comment you made the other day..."

She snorted. "Don't worry honey, you're like, definitely not my type."

I frowned. I didn't know if I should be offended or relieved about that.

"So you fawning over Ryan, that was all an act?"

She nodded. "I swear I almost gagged, like several times. He's so not my type."

"Lets be honest, dick isn't your type," I said bluntly.

She rolled her eyes. "No need to like, sugar cost it. What I mean is, if I wasn't into chicks, I wouldn't go for a guy like him."

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. "What's wrong with guys like him?"

She held up her hands in surrender. "No need to get defensive, I was just like, stating an opinion."

"I wasn't getting defensive," I denied.

"You so were."

Was I? Oh god I was wasn't I? Why was my conscience agreeing with Annie? Traitor.

"Whatever," I muttered, turning around and leaving the bathroom. Annie followed me out.

"It's so obvious that you like him you know." She said, hot on my heels as I speed walked back to art. I was trying to out walk her, but she just kept hovering around, like a fly.

Buzzzzzzz.

"It's not that obvious," I defended.

"So you do like him then?"

"What? No."

"Liar."

"Shut up."

I spent the rest of art class repeating in my head the conversation that went down between Annie and I, and continuing to have my mind blown. I just couldn't believe she was a lesbian. I don't think it was the fact that she could be attracted to someone of the same gender that surprised me. It was her. Annie of all people, she was the person I never would have guessed. I mean, she was always flirting with guys, making out with guys in the hallway, and guys were always talking about her too, so it was clear that they couldn't tell or didn't know. I had to hand it to her, she was a good actress. I guess everyone had their secrets right? I know I did. Ryan did, but I knew his were going to be harder to uncover, and he wasn't just going to blurt them out like Annie had.

I sighed, massaging my temples. Why did all my thoughts and mental conversations always end up in the same place? Ryan. I always ended up relating my thoughts to him somehow. I was obsessed. And maybe a stalker. I was an obsessed stalker. Jesus, that sounds so much worse when you see it written down.

~*~*~*~

Did I ever tell you how much I hate salad?

"Hazel?"

I think I did.

"Haaaazel?"

Oh well, I'll tell you again.

"Hello, are you alive in there?"

A lot. I hate it a lot.

"Hazel!?"

My head snapped up. "Huh?"

Tara cocked her head to the side. "Care to share what's going on in that noggin of yours?"

"My intense hate for salad," I replied disgustedly, dragging the soggy leaves around the bowl with my plastic fork.

"Of course, because that's just something that you think about all the time," she said sarcastically.

"Yeah, it is."

"You're so weird."

"Shut up, you love it."

"Of course I do."

Kyle cleared his throat, doing the classic yawn-and-put-my-arm-around-the-pretty-girl manoeuvre.

"How was art?" Kyle asked.

"It was..." How do I explain this in one word? "...eventful."

"Care to share?" Tara asked with interest.

"Nope."

She scoffed. "Well, that's rude."

I shook my head. "Sorry, it's confidential information."

Tara frowned, putting both of her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. She stared at me for a while, her eyes studying me thoroughly. "You're sad, what's wrong?" She finally asked, eyes wide as she waited for an answer.

"I'm not sad," I opposed. "I'm just..." What was I? Worried? Stressed? Obsessed? Well obviously. Was I having Ryan withdrawal symptoms?

"You're just what?" She pushed.

"I don't know." I didn't know how I felt. Maybe I wasn't feeling anything. Maybe my soul was gone. Oh my god, maybe Caleb would have to make a deal with death to put my soul back in place, and build the Great Wall of Hazel in my brain. Did that mean that I was going to become a coffee drinking insomniac too?

Okay Hazel, you are crazy. No, actually you're bonkers, which is like crazy times five. But technically if I was crazy, like actually crazy, I should have been in a mental hospital. You know what that means? I was practically Sam Winchester. Except I wasn't a guy...that would've been weird.

Tara snapped her fingers in front of my face.

I narrowed my eyes it her. "Is it illegal to daydream around here?"

She gave me a blank look. "You weren't just daydreaming, you were vacant for almost two minutes.

"I was not," I protested.

"Were too, I timed your little visit to Lala land." She held her phone up for me to see. Sure enough, the screen said one minute and fifty three seconds.

"Ugh, I hate it when you're right," I groaned, resting my head on the table.

Tara gasped, clapping her hands. "I have an idea."

I lifted my head off the table slightly so that I could see he properly. "What?"

"You can come to my house after school, we can have a harry potter marathon and eat as much junk food as we can without throwing up." She wiggled her eyebrows, nudging me across the table. "What'd ya say, am I a genius or what?"

Her enthusiasm brought a smile to my face, and I was about to agree when I remembered something. I groaned again, repeatedly smacking my head on the table. "I can't."

"Why not?" Tara demanded.

"Jasmine has her parent teacher conference tonight."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"I have to go."

"But you're not her parent."

I rolled my eyes. "Obviously, but dad's working late and can't get the time off."

"But..but that's not fair," Tara spluttered. "You're not her parent so it's not your job."

"Yeah, well life's not fair," I muttered. "I don't even care that I have to go, someone has to. It's the fact that I know I'm going to get judged by all the moms who sit around gossiping while their perfect children take turns pushing each other on the swings. I'll be sitting there by myself, trying to act older than I am, and Jasmine will probably be pushing the other kids off their swings."

"I could go with." Tara suggested.

"And then what would they think?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked down. "Oh."

"Yeah."

~*~*~*~

I was right. They were looking at me like I'd committed a serious crime or something. Jasmine was climbing up the slide like the little rebel she was. It was going just a I had predicted, maybe I should've made a career out of predicting stuff...

I had been sat outside Jasmine's classroom for about five minutes when

a woman emerged, giving me the stink eye as she walked away. She must've been one of the mothers. A second woman emerged after her, this one had a kind face, and didn't look the least bit judgmental which was a relief. She was young, like maybe in her late twenties. She smiled when she saw me.

"You must be Jasmine's sister, she talks about you all the time."

I frowned. Uh oh, there must be another Jasmine that she was confusing with my sister. There was no way that Jasmine talked about me.

The teacher looked at my face. "You are Jasmine's sister, aren't you?"

I blinked. "Uh, yeah."

She smiled. "Then come on in." She held the door open for me, gesturing to a comfy looking seat on the opposite side of her desk. "Take a seat."

She took a seat behind her desk. "So, Jasmine. Where do I start?"

"That's a good question," I laughed.

"Well she's exceptionally intelligent, but I'm sure you already knew that."

I nodded.

"She's well above the average level in all areas, so you really have nothing to worry about. That's really not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well recently I've seen a change an Jasmine." The teacher said, somewhat reluctantly.

"What kind of change?" I replied wearily.

"Well she stopped participating in class for a start, which I found strange because I know that she knows the answers. I just put it down to her being tired or something. Then she stopped playing with her friends. She started staying inside at recess, and sitting by herself. Then, a while ago, it was Mother's Day and the kids were writing letters to their mothers. I didn't find it particularly strange when I saw that she was writing to you, quite a few of the kids were writing to their dads, grandparents, or siblings.

But then I read the letter."

She handed me a sheet of paper with Jasmine's handwriting scrawled across it in sparkly pink pen.

I started reading;

Dear Hazel,

I hate Mother's Day. I don't understand why I have to do nice things for mom if she doesn't love me anymore. I don't know what I did to make her leave. I tried to be good. So I'm writing to you instead because I don't think dad loves me anymore either. He's never home anymore and when he is all he does is sleep. I hope you don't leave me too.

Love from Jasmine.

"Oh my god." I mumbled to myself. "She thinks it's her fault."

Of course she thought it was her fault. She didn't understand.

I looked at the letter again. The pink own was smudged in several places, and the paper was crinkled like it had been wet and dried.

"She cried writing this?" I asked.

"No, I cried reading it," the teacher replied.

"I never knew she felt like this," I said distraughtly. "She doesn't like to talk about it at home."

I couldn't help but think it was my fault that she felt like this. If I hadn't been so self absorbed, then maybe she could have a normal childhood. The childhood that I never had.

~*~*~*~

Okay so I have a bone to pick with you guys. I have recently realised that some of you guys are really easily offended. I can appreciate that. I don't appreciate a long ass comment about the seriousness of bipolar disorder every time I mention it. You act like I wrote it to personally offend you. News flash, I don't know who the fuck you are and frankly, I don't aim to please you. I write because I like writing. So do me a favour and if you're sensitive to swearing, occasional racist comments, excessive hate for salad, arguing, overwhelming cuteness, and clichés, then don't continue reading.

And if I haven't scared you all away please vote, comment, and follow.

Until next time.