Chapter 29

We checked in at the hotel we were staying at, 1 o'clock. It wasn't fancy, but it was nice. Our rooms were all on the 5th floor. My room is in between Tiffany and Asmaa's rooms. My room had a mini fridge with a counter. A bathroom with two sinks. And two beds separated by a bed side table. But my favorite was the view, I could see the ocean from the balcony. I love the sound of the waves it's so soothing. I love hearing it, especially when I'm going to sleep. I've only been close to the ocean once before, when I was twelve. When I was there I saw a lesbian couple holding hands walking down the beach. They looked so happy together. I remember thinking, "That's what I want."

I knew I didn't like boys at that time. While other girls my age were going boy crazy, I was crushing on the girls instead. I hated myself for it. In church, my pastor had gone over that topic multiple times. Talking about how homosexuality was shameful, disgusting, and how it was the devil's doing. That gays were children of the devil. My parents couldn't agree more. While I admired the lesbian couple, my parents were disgusted by them. But instead of feeling shame and guilt like I usually did, I felt hope, that if those to women can find happiness and love surrounded by all this hate. Then maybe I can too.

My father to me, "I don't want you associating with those kind of people. They're mentally ill, and will put those sick ideas into your head. It's disgusting, and when you're older, you'll understand what I mean."

I still don't understand, I don't want to understand. I understand that they're ignorant, intolerant, bigots, that's what I understand.

I'm mad at them. I love them but I'm mad at them.

But then again if it weren't for them I wouldn't have ended up at this great place. Full of people I love like Quinn, and Asmaa, and... Ti-n-y...

And they're all here with me for the interview. To be honest, I'm a nervous wreck I'm about to be on national TV. My parents are going to be watching. Some kids from school might see this. Random people l will meet in the future, might watch this.

I don't know, it's just weird to think about.

Quinn is more nervous than I am, and she's not even going up on stage.

"What are we supposed to wear? You can't wear that! It's too casual. The whole world is about to look at you and you want to wear a hoodie and leggings?"

"You're adorable." I kissed her on the lips, making her shut up for 3 seconds.

"Devin, how can you be so calm? What if you say the wrong thing? And wearing that," she looks me up and down, "Shows you don't care, because you didn't put any effort into it. I'm not girly, I don't care about fashion. I just care about how they will interpret your attire."

I get what she means. This interview will be seen by millions of people and we are representing our camp. A camp that many, many kids depend on and love dearly. We can't risk giving people the wrong image. We have to put in our best foot forward.

I kinda just walk out of the room with out saying a word. She gives me a look but decides to follow me. I knocked on head counsellor Dean's door, and give him my idea. He genuinely smiles at me and 2 minutes later I get a notification in my phone saying, "We're leaving in 5 get ready we're going shopping."

I'm back stage nervously picking out my very short nails. They're usually long and beautiful, but I've been having to keep them short for a while now. If you know what I mean. Wink. Wink. ( ;

I was wearing a burgundy off the shoulder, layered, short dress. Quinn picked it out actually, and she paid for it too, despite my objections.

Barbara Moore is currently on stage doing her intro to her live audience. The more she talks the closer she gets to calling us out on stage.

What if I freeze? Or say something stupid? Or what if I mess up so badly that people decide against the camp?

Sensing my nervousness, Quinn whispers into my ear, "Don't worry, you're gonna do great! And you look beautiful tonight." She leaned over and kissed my temple. "I love you."

Before I could reply, we got our cue and seven of us dispersed from the other seven.

We all walked in, and cheers erupted. Barbara Moore welcomed is with a warm smile and gestured for us to squeeze onto the sofa across from her. It only held four people so three of us would have to stand. Asmaa sat down closest to Barbara. I sat next to her and Tiffany takes a seat in between Mia and I. Tyler, Andy, and Keisha stay standing behind us.

"How about we get to know you first? Each of you say your name, name what part of the LGBTQ+ community you are part of, and um your favorite color 'cause why not?"

Asmaa starts, "My name is Asmaa Almasi. I am a lesbian, and my favorite color is forest green."

Andy goes next, "I'm Andy Smith, I'm non-binary, and I like red."

"Hello, my name is Tyler Shaw, I'm gay, and I love GOLD." Tyler speaks as if he were meant to be on camera, in front of millions on stage.

"Hi, I'm Keisha Wars," she flashes a flirty smile, "I'm bisexual, and my favorite color is purple."

"I'm Mia." She shrinks not liking the attention of all the eyes on her, "I'm a Transgender girl." there's a long pause,. "OH! And I like pink! "

"We can tell." Barbara nods at Mia's outfit. Which she looks stunning in by the way.

Tiffany begins ignoring Barbara's comment, "My name is Tiffany Johnson, I'm asexual, and my favorite color is yellow." She says very professionally as if she were a news anchor.

They all look at me, I'm the only one who hasn't introduced themselves. I'm sweating right now, and I don't know if the words will come out. They are all look at me. The camera, the audience, Barbara, the group.

"I'm Devin Chase...I'm lesbian, and I like teal," I say a little too quickly.

I turned my head to Quinn, she smiled at me and gave me thumbs up. Tiny was there too, she was looking straight at me, but instead of acknowledging her I looked past her and smiled at Quinn.

"So, tell us about your camp." Barbara smiled.

I slowly became comfortable with the setting. I ignored the camera and audience as best I could, and I didn't have to talk much. The rest of the group was happy to respond to everything.

A few minutes had passed when Barbara changed the topic. "Asmaa, I heard about you on the news. I'm so sorry to hear about what happened to you. How are you doing?"

"Oh, why thank you and I'm doing a lot better. There's lots of people like me, kids with very religious parents who won't accept them."

"Like Muslims?" Barbara said it more as a statement rather than a question. I don't think I like the tone she used.

Asmaa was clearly cut off guard, "Oh um well yes...b-"

"We've all heard many, many stories about your people, the terrorists."

I nearly broke my neck tying to turn my head to look at her. Asmaa didn't say anything.

"The United States of America is still having problems trusting your people. And they're not too fond of the...LGBTQ community. Don't you think it's asking to much to be accepted as a Muslim AND a lesbian?" She laughed as if what she was saying was funny. "If anything, your father's violence proved that you people are dangerous and shouldn't be allowed into our country."

Asmaa paused, but finally said, "My father's actions do not represent the Muslim community."

Barbara laughed again, "Oh, honey, I think it does. You people are known to be very violent."

Anger built up inside me, I didn't care about the cameras anymore or the audience. "If you're so worried about how violent they are, why did you let Asmaa into your studio?" I rose my voice.

Barbara seemed shocked that I spoke up. "The Muslim girl can't do anything to me. I have security guards of she tries anything."

"The Muslim girl? She has a name, her name is Asmaa. As-ma. I'm sure you can pronounce it. 'Cause you have no problem spewing words like TERRORIST OR SAYING THE WORD MUSLIM AS IF IT WERE GARBAGE IN YOUR MOUTH."

"Well, her people have proved to be terrorists. They have done many horrible things. They fit into the stereotype, just like you. You fit into the angry black girl stereotype." She smirked. I can see why people don't like her.

"Oh, no, she didn't," Tyler gasped.

"I have a reason to be angry, you are being extremely rude to my friend. Apologize."

She looked at me as if I were crazy, as if telling me there is no way she is going to apologize in front of the United States.

"Look, kid, I'm just asking questions. You don't have to get mad. It's just that her people have a reputation."

"You know what I find funny?" She shut right up. Because most of the time when a girl uses that phrase it usually means she doesn't find it funny at all.

"I find it funny how nobody thinks the KKK is an accurate representation of Christians. But everybody thinks Terrorists are an accurate representation of Muslims. Muslim does NOT equal terrorist. Some people who just happen to be Muslim caused 9/11. Now I'm not saying that wasn't a horrible event. But once it happened EVERYONE freaks out. But a when white Christian guy blew up an abortion center, nobody bat's an eyelid. There were, 154 mass shootings last year. And not ONE was caused by a illegal immigrant or a black man."

"Well, I don't think you understand the severity of 9/11."

"Oh! I understand it! PLENTY. 2,996 people died. One of which was my biological father. My mother was pregnant with me at the time."

"Well, that man who blew up the abortion center wasn't really Christian. If he were REALLY Christian, he wouldn't have done that," She stated, completely ignoring my last comment.

"That's the same case for the Muslims. You may not realize this but their religion is very similar to Christianity. It's just a little different. There are many gentle, and amazing middle easterners out there. More than there are bad ones"

"Well, the news-"

"The news," I rose my voice, "Wants to make money. Nobody cares if a there is a gentle, loving human being living across the street from them. People care about the big traumatic news. So obviously that's all you are gonna hear."

Asmaa joined in. She looks mad. "There are statistics showing that in 2015, 30,215 lives were taken by guns. That adds up to 10, 9/11's put together. Way more people have died by guns. But we do nothing about it because it's white men with guns rather than Muslims."

She knew she was losing but she kept going, "Well, your culture is very oppressive towards women."

Asmaa smiled sweetly, "So is yours."

"Yeah, but you have to where that." Barbara gestured at her hijab.

"I wear it because of what I believe with my religion. It's the same thing as nuns. Why can they be covered head to toe but not me?"

Barbara finally gave up, "As interesting as this subject is, we're here to talk about you camp."

"Oh! Great!"