Chapter Text
i. she’s, like, the coolest
Camp ends abruptly the summer before sixth grade. Sterling sits in the back seat of her mom’s car, watching the trees and the river go by, feeling a finality she can’t quite name. In her hand, she holds a neatly folded envelope carefully between her thumb and pointer finger.
“Are you gonna read it?” Blair asks so quietly their parents can’t hear.
“Hmm?” Sterling turns away from the window and blinks at her sister.
“The last letter? From your pen pal or whatever? Are you gonna read it?”
Sterling holds the letter tightly. The thing is, she really really doesn’t want it to be the last.
It’s been a weird summer, the world feeling slightly off-kilter ever since in rapid succession that spring, Zayn had left One Direction and then April had stopped talking to her and it then suddenly it was the last summer of camp before they aged out of it. Now, the prospect of going back to school somehow more grown up than before looms over her, combined with the strange and gleeful anticipation of new classes and having a boyfriend waiting for her; the unwavering feeling that an era is over now, and it’s impossible to go back.
And it really didn’t help that Blair is still better than her at like, every physical and social part of camp.
The only part of the summer that felt peaceful was this little room with Jenny, one of the counselors who had a high ponytail and a wide smile and was very organized, something that Sterling found herself drawn to. Jenny had them write letters to the girls at another camp up in Clarkesville. It didn’t really matter what was in their letters, mostly just nonsense about their day, or what they wanted to do when they got home. Sterling thinks it was just Jenny’s way of looking out for the girls who didn’t want to go kayaking every day. Which Sterling really appreciated.
She found herself drawn to the anonymity of the letter writing. No one made her sign her own name, so she didn’t. Just like that. She wasn’t Blair’s sister or Luke’s girlfriend or the girl with the second highest grades in the fifth grade, she was just a person writing a letter. She signed it TS on a whim, because, well, she was still deeply in a Taylor Swift phase and ever since April had just - well, she just didn’t have anyone to talk to about it anymore. So she wrote letters to some random girl miles away, bent over a big wooden table with a curated variety of gel pens. It was fun, freeing, and something that was solely hers.
And then, even better, she got them back.
Whoever it was didn’t sign their name either, just a simple A, which Sterling was pretty sure was a reference to Pretty Little Liars, even though Sterling and Blair weren't allowed to watch Pretty Little Liars, but Sterling snuck a couple of the books from the library one time and was thoroughly scandalized.
Either way, Sterling liked A from her very first letter. Much better than anyone in Pretty Little Liars, that's for sure. A had a way of writing like she was far older than Sterling knew they both were, describing small things in a way that makes them seem important and dramatic. Sterling found herself grinning down at the letters more often than not.
There is this girl in my cabin named Kayetlin, A would write, and honestly I knew she would be annoying just from the spelling of that name alone. K-A-Y-E-T-L-I-N. Abysmal. Anyway, I caught her kissing a boy from one of the boys’ camps down the road and first of all, we all share a cabin, how thick-skulled can you be to choose a communal space to make out in? Secondly, I have personally witnessed her leaving in the morning without brushing her teeth, so I feel for the poor sucker. Though I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. Either way, now Kaytelin thinks I’m going to tell on her, which I easily could, but it’s more fun to dangle this over her.
Before I left, my mother asked me why I don’t have many friends at school, which I find is a terrible thing to ask a daughter. I think she expects me to make friends at camp, but if that’s the case, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint her, when the people here are girls like Kayetlin. This is so embarrassing, but probably the closest person I’ve made to a friend here is you, and you aren’t even at my camp and I don’t know your name. This isn’t me asking for your name either by the way. I think it’s fun to not know each other’s names, it makes it feel like we’re in a Jane Austen novel or something.
A
Dear A,
First of all, not brushing your teeth in the morning is gross to start with, and then to add kissing on top of that?? YUCK. They must be really desperate. The first time I kissed anyone I brushed my teeth, then chewed gum, put one of those listerine strips on my tongue and I was still nervous my breath smelled bad. I do not know where Kayetlin is coming from here.
Secondly, I kind of like that I'm the closest friend you’ve made. That’s probably selfish or whatever, obviously there are people there who know your name and stuff who would be lucky to hang out with you, but I feel pretty lucky to write these letters to you. If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re the best friend I’ve made this summer too.
And I totally agree, it’s fun to not know each other’s names. It’s nice to have someone like me just for words I say, without any of the weird middle school social stuff. I feel like I know everything I need to know just from what you say and I hope the reverse is true too!
I’m excited to get back to school next month (I know, I’m a dork), but I will miss writing to you, however lame that sounds. If you need me to, I can write to your mom and tell her you definitely made a friend here :)
Love,
TS
That had been the last letter Sterling had sent before they had been picked up, and now, the final one from A sits in her hand, like a goodbye that Sterling doesn’t want to make.
“I’ll read it when I get home,” she tells Blair. Blair gives her a curious look but doesn’t press.
She waits until Blair has settled into a post-drive nap and her parents are downstairs. She isn’t sure why she needs to be alone, but it feels better this way, more private.
It’s sealed with a sticker, a light pink heart that Sterling makes sure not to break as she carefully opens the envelope and unfolds the piece of paper inside. She smiles at the handwriting, a precise cursive. Sterling never learned cursive in school, making it all the more exciting that she’s gets an insight into this other person, who must go to some other school where they actually do teach it.
Dear TS,
I will admit that I did not expect to enjoy our correspondence so much, but there is something thrilling about someone who knows nothing about you (besides the fact that we both have attended a Christian camp in Georgia, but truly, who hasn’t?). All this to say, when I go back to school, there will inevitably be new social hierarchies, but still old drama, and I fully intend to make the most of it. However, it would be nice to have someone to talk to outside all of that.
If you’re not interested, I fully understand, but if so, my email address is [email protected]. I think it could be fun to have a secret anonymous correspondent that no one knows about but us. No pressure or anything, but I’m here if you want to keep talking. Either way, I have thoroughly enjoyed writing with you over the past few weeks.
Love,
A
Sterling smiles, holds the letter to her chest, smiles again. It’s silly, she knows, to care about someone liking her just for her, her own words, enough to want to keep talking to her. She carefully folds the letter up and puts it into her third desk drawer, in the back so it's one else’s, just hers.
“Sterling! Phone!” her mom calls from downstairs. “It’s Luuuuke.”
Sterling grins, closes the drawer and basically skips downstairs. She has a new friend; she has a boyfriend; she’s home.
“Leia Organa is a Star Wars thing, right?” she asks Luke as soon as she gets to the phone.
“Uh, yeah, babe, duh,” he says, smile apparent in his voice, “she’s, like, the coolest.”
“Of course she is.”
“Why?”
“No reason, just wondering.”
She’s not quite sure why she doesn’t tell Luke, why she didn’t tell her parents, why the only person she told about A is Blair, and that’s only because she tells Blair absolutely everything. But it’s nice to have something for once that is just hers.
ii. common denominators
Tiffany Sanders. Tia Sanchez. Tamara Schmider.
April places her pen on the S’s of the school directory and scans through them, hunched over a library table, circling any others that have those particular initials. It’s silly, inane, there are hundreds of middle schools in the greater Atlanta area, who is to even say that TS is Atlanta-based, but still, there is a chance. A small chance that she’s here.
“Watcha doing?”
April starts, quickly covering up the directory with her textbooks, then glaring up at the too-cheery face of Sterling Wesley. She’s gotten a little taller this summer, and her hair is blonder, light streaks in her stupid French braids, but her smile is the same smile, big and hopeful, like someone who can ruin friendships at the drop of the hat and have a good time doing it.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” April responds smoothly, getting a small sense of satisfaction at the way Sterling’s shoulders slump.
Her satisfaction disappears when Sterling chooses to sit at the table across from her with no invitation.
“April,” she whispers, maybe because it’s a library, maybe for dramatic emphasis, “are we really gonna be like this all year? I don’t know what happened to you-”
“What happened to me?” April snaps, a little too shrill for the library. “Nothing has changed with me, unless there is something about me that you just don’t want to be around.”
“What are you talking about?”
April grits her teeth. “Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not-”
“You know what, I don’t have to deal with this.”
April gathers up her things, still careful to hide her list of TS’s from Sterling. The only thing more embarrassing than a former friend who doesn’t want her, is a former friend who can see that the only friend she’s made since is a stranger who hasn’t actually met April.
She doesn’t turn around as she walks out of the library.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: “Friends”
Dear TS,
Sometimes I don’t understand how people can slip back and forth from being someone who wants to spend time with you and seems interested in what you say, to someone who doesn’t want to see you anymore. I know we were warned that entering adolescence wouldn’t be fun, but this feels ridiculous. My daddy says that 12-year-old girls are scarier than grown men at times, and I always thought that was a little unfair (I mean his own daughter is going to be 12 in a few months), but I think I get where he's coming from.
How do you find people who won’t, for the risk of sounding dramatic, stab you in the back?
A
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: “Friends”
Dear A,
Okay, I don’t know who you go to school with, but they sound like a lot of b-words, excuse my language. I do get what you mean, sometimes there are people who you thought you were your friends and then for no reason at all, they aren’t? Maybe some people are just mean, I don’t know.
But I do know that you deserve way better than them. I’m sure you’ll find your people, A, you’ve already found one here <3
Love,
TS
The Hannahs are fighting.
April perches on the picnic table next to them and watches, trying to decipher exactly where the conflict originated.
“So Hannah G. had a crush on Franklin,” a voice tells her to her left, “but he let Hannah B. copy his math homework and then Hannah S. told Hannah G. so now Hannah G. thinks that Hannah B. is trying to steal him or something.”
April turns to see Ezekiel Lewis nod his head toward the now very loud turn the Hannah fight has taken. He’s smiling a little, clearly amused at the whole situation. April’s never really talked to Ezekiel before, he mostly just stays quiet at the back of class, watching like he knows more than he lets on. Which he clearly does.
“All this over Franklin?” April says.
Ezekiel cracks a grin, and April feels a small burst of victory at it.
“The real problem here is that Hannah B. needs serious help in math,” Ezekiel says, “and clearly Franklin is not the person to go to on that.”
They laugh together as Hannah G. gets closer to Hannah B.’s face, until Hannah B. starts crying, and then it’s not funny anymore. Ezekiel’s words and TS’s last email stick in her head, and before she can overthink it, April calls out.
“Hey, Hannah!”
All three Hannahs’ heads turn to her at once.
“B.,” she clarifies.
Hannah B. looks confused, head turning to April, then back to the other Hannahs, before quickly scurrying to April. Good choice.
“So I heard a rumor-” April starts.
“I didn’t- it wasn’t-”
“-that you need help with your math homework.”
Hannah B. blinks. She looks from April to Ezekiel before smiling a tentative smile.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” she says, sniffing, “I still don’t get what common denominators are.”
April bites her tongue on how easy it is to use common denominators. She’s pretty sure Ezekiel does the same but he scoots over to let Hannah B. sit next to him and gets out his textbook. April smiles, looks back at where Hannah G. and Hannah S. are gawking at them.
April gathers up her anger over the past few months at people who feel like they can just turn on their friends at a moment's notice and channels it into her glare.
“Can I help you with something?” She says acerbically, raising one eyebrow, something she’s been practicing in the mirror.
She’s delighted when it works, and Hannah G. flinches away from their table, muttering something under her breath to Hannah S.
“Well done,” Ezekiel says quietly over Hannah B.’s head.
“Thanks,” April smiles.
“So if you’re adding a third and a half, the common denominator would be five?” Hannah B. asks.
“No,” April and Ezekiel say in unison.
April grins.
After school, she goes back to the library and logs into one of the computers that faces away from the door. She isn’t allowed to get a smartphone until next year and for some reason the idea of logging in to this specific email on her family desktop at home feels dangerous.
It shouldn’t, there is no reason to be scared. All she’s doing is emailing a camp friend. Her parents would probably be happy she made a friend in the first place. But the idea of them finding out about TS makes April feel sick in a way she can’t decipher. It’s the same way her stomach turns when her dad immediately changes the channel when Modern Family comes on; the same way she wanted to throw up a little when her mom gave her a knowing look before the school year started and told her sixth grade is when girls start to bring boys around.
She already knows that the sixth grade is not where she is getting a boyfriend. She doubts seventh or eighth grade either. Or maybe ever. The only things she feels toward boys is the occasional odd spark of camaraderie like she had with Ezekiel earlier today, and last year’s rush of jealousy toward Luke Creswell when he insisted that he needed to be the next to Sterling every single second of every single day. Mostly boys are people who are just there, background players who just happen less interesting.
She’s pretty sure that is not the kind of emotion that leads to having a boyfriend anytime soon.
Which is another thing she does not need to tell her parents. April’s too smart not to know that there is a connection between that and why she doesn’t want to tell them about TS or Adele or Rachel or Sterling or Nina, but she presses that thought down whenever it comes too close to the surface.
She has an email to send.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: “Friends”
Thank you for the advice. I think I did it. Found my people, that is.
A
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: “Friends”
I never had any doubt you would.
Love,
TS
iii. go to the mattresses part one
“You should audition,” Blair says, the tenth time she catches Sterling staring at the sign up list in the hallway.
Sterling jumps a little. Blair grins at her.
“Look, musicals are lame as hell-”
“Oh my gosh, Blair, don’t say H-E-double-hockey-sticks!”
Blair rolls her eyes. “-but they would be way less lame if you were in them.”
Sterling smiles down to herself, looks warily around the hallway.
“But I don’t - I don’t even know if I can sing, like in front of other people. You’ve always been better at it anyway.”
Blair takes her by the shoulders. “First of all, I am far too cool for this. But you can do anything, Sterl. Duh. Also like, people can never sing in these things. I still get nightmares from Seussical last year.”
Sterling looks at the list. There are only two other names on the list so far, Jessica and April. Sterling rolls her eyes at April’s name being in cursive, April would have gone so far as to self-teach.
Sterling takes a deep breath in as she grabs the pencil and carefully writes her name with it.
“Well isn’t this adorable.”
Of course. Sterling takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself.
“April,” Blair says, stepping in front of Sterling, arms crossed.
April ignores her, eyes focused on Sterling, raising one eyebrow effortlessly. Sterling doesn’t know when she learned to do that.
“Which part?” April asks, tilting her head to the sign up sheet.
“Uh, you know, Annie,” Sterling says, trying to be casual.
April scoffs. “The lead? Really? You?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Blair says, drawing herself up to her full height.
April grins. “Nothing, nothing at all. I think it’s… cute that you think you could get the lead.” She reaches out and pats Sterling condescendingly on the upper arm. “I’m sure the years of voice and dance lessons will really come in handy at the auditions, right?” April tilts her head, looking like she’s thinking. “Wait a minute, you didn’t have years of voice and dance lessons, did you?”
Sterling pulls her arm away and looks down, wishing she could fall through the floor.
“You’re just jealous,” Blair is saying, always sticking up for her even though Sterling would really prefer just to leave at this moment.
“Please,” April says, “me? Jealous? Of your sister?”
“Yeah, because unlike you, people actually like Sterling. If you got Annie people would wish she stayed in that orphanage.”
If Sterling wasn’t so focused on trying not to cry, she might notice how April flinches back a little at that, but instead she just looks at her own name on the audition and crosses it off.
“You can’t let her get to you like that,” Blair says as they sit in the back of their mom’s car on the way home.
“Let who get to you, hun?” Debbie asks from the front seat.
“Stupid April,” Blair grumbles.
Sterling just sinks down further into the backseat.
“Blair Wesley, that’s not a nice thing to say about anyone,” Debbie scolds, “aren’t y’all friends?”
“Old news, mom. She just one day decided to be a big old… jerk.”
“Blair…”
“She told Sterling she wasn’t good enough to be Annie.”
Debbie’s eyes find Sterling’s in the rearview mirror.
“Honey, is that true?”
Sterling nods, and watches her mother’s mouth turn into a frown in the mirror.
“Sterling,” Debbie says, voice tighter, “don’t you dare let anyone tell you what you can’t do.”
“That’s what I said!” Blair echoes.
“I know,” Sterling says, looking down at her hands, “but, I mean you’re my mom and Blair’s my twin, you, like, have to be nice to me.”
“We would say nice things to you even if that wasn’t true,” Debbie says, her voice sounding weird and scratchy for a second, before going back to normal, “so you go back there tomorrow and sign up for that musical.”
“Fine,” Sterling grumbles, though she has no plans to do that.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: UGH
Dear A,
Do you ever think that people only tell you good things about yourself because they love you? I wonder if there’s anything I’m actually good at, you know? My sister is better at sports than I am, my boyfriend knows more about movies than I do. I know I’m halfway decent at school, but there’s one person who is always just a bit better than me and she knows it too, which makes it worse.
The problem is, sometimes I think I believe her more than I believe people in my family. There is no obligation for this girl to be mean to me, right? But there is one for my family to be nice to me. So there must be something about me that she can see that she just knows isn’t good enough.
Sorry if this is super depressing, it’s just been a bad day.
Love,
TS
From: [email protected]
To:[email protected]
Subject: Re: UGH
Dear TS,
I’m trying to say this in the nicest way, but that’s ridiculous. Get it together. That may have been harsh, but I’m leaving it, because, trust me, even just from writing with you for a year and a half now, it’s clear that you are someone special.
You should know that I don’t pass out compliments often, but you are clearly in dire need of one from someone who is not related to you, so my moment has come. First of all, just because someone is related to you doesn’t mean they are necessarily going to be praising you. I constantly feel like I have to earn the respect and affection of my parents, so trust me, it’s not all unconditional.
Secondly, there have been many times over the past year where I have felt isolated, even from my friends, even from my family, and your encouraging words have brought me back. There is an intrinsic kindness that shines through when you write, and I am honestly sometimes envious of it. The fact that you blend that kindness with actually being funny and interesting is rare indeed.
So take that to your “super depressing thoughts” if you will. And as for the girl at school who made you feel this way, I bet she’s just jealous.
And, once again, get it together.
Love,
A
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: UGH
Wow, you really got me on this one. You just made me smile so big at my computer that my sister asked if I was talking to my boyfriend. Oops.
But seriously, thank you. I don’t know why this girl at school has the power to make me feel so bad about myself, but she really does. You’re like the opposite of that, I guess. Seriously, thank you thank you thank you. There’s something I wasn’t going to do, but you’ve convinced me! What would I do without you?
Love,
TS
P.S.: I don’t want to pry or anything - my momma says it’s rude to ask about people’s family stuff, but I think you’re pretty great too, and if your parents of all people don’t see that, then they are missing out! How can they not realize they have the best kid around? If you ever want to talk about family stuff, know that I’m around!
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: UGH
Well, I’m glad to see that you have had a change of heart. And for what it’s worth, I think you should find that bitch at school who makes you feel this way in the first place and show her that no one can mess you around.
Make me proud, TS.
Love,
A
PS: Thank you, but it’s really not that big of a deal. Family is family, you know. We’re all on the same team, striving for perfection. Mostly days, I would say were about ninety percent there. But I do appreciate your kind words.
When the day of the audition comes, Sterling is sitting next to April, because of course she is.
April’s hair is shinier than usual, perfectly styled to fall over her shoulder in waves. Sterling internally rolls her eyes; it’s not like hair will make a difference when the show makes you wear a dumb wig anyway.
“What are you staring at?” April asks, arms crossed and mouth turned down.
“Your hair looks pretty,” Sterling says cheerily, watching with satisfaction as April’s face channels through surprise, confusion, something indecipherable, then back to a default anger.
“Whatever tactic this is, it won’t work,” she hisses.
Sterling shrugs, smiling to herself. She still can’t get over the fact that A, ever grammatically correct and polite A, who always writes like she is a teacher, deigned to use the word bitch about April. It makes Sterling hold in a laugh.
“Why are you smiling so much?” April presses.
“Just thinking,” Sterling says.
April glares. “About what?”
Sterling leans a little closer, emboldened.
“About how I’m going to get the part.”
iv. pardon my language but fuck it
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: boys
Dear A,
My sister has suddenly decided she wants a boyfriend, now that we’re about to start high school. Which is totally fine, she’s literally the best person I know, she deserves a boyfriend more than anyone, if that’s what she wants. But, oh my gosh, the guys she has chosen are questionable at best. And whenever I call her on it, she reminds me that I don’t get it because I’ve had a boyfriend for forever.
I still think she deserves better. Does that make me a bad sister?
Love,
TS
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: boys
Dear TS,
In my humble only child opinion, I don’t think it makes you a bad sister at all. I think 14-year-old boys are perhaps the worst kind of people on the planet. Hopefully the one you’ve found is better than the rest. The same guy since camp, right? Unless there is a rotation of TS men that I haven’t been informed about.
If that's the case, I will withhold my judgement, but I doubt they are good enough for you. Just like how I’m sure those boys aren’t good enough for your sister.
Love,
A
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: boys
Okay, definitely no string of boys, the one is fine for me. I feel very lucky to have found one of the only good 14-year-old boys out there.
How about you? I feel like in the three years (omg!!!) we’ve been talking, you haven’t mentioned any guys or crushes. Which is totally cool or whatever, I doubt there are any boys worthy of you honestly, unless your school has better pickings then mine. But anyway, just wanted to let you know that you’re free to chat about any of that stuff with me. Only if you want to though. Duh.
Love,
TS
April sucks a deep breath in, lets it out slowly, counting to ten. Her hands hover over the keyboard. She clenches them and then unclenches them. The silence of the house weighs on her. She knows Daddy is away on business and Mom is out on one of her Publix trips that takes at least two hours, but still, the idea of either of them walking into her room at this moment makes her turn around and face the door.
Ever since her daddy gave her a laptop for her thirteenth birthday, April has been careful. She lives in incognito windows, makes sure Chrome doesn’t save her passwords, especially to this email address. She had created it three years ago simply to talk to TS, but it’s gotten to a point over the past year of her using that email to browse YouTube videos that are exclusively 18+, scenes from movies that make her flush red only when her door is locked and her parents are gone, creating a kindle account to read Bible Trouble (which had some thought provoking essays and others that she felt disrespected the text a little too much, but either way, being able to read the word queer so many times in relation to the Bible filled her with something she couldn’t quite name, but made her want to cry and celebrate at the same time).
It’s been a long few years of analyzing each thought that crosses through her head, storing it away to cross reference when she is alone, with her private browsers and private email account, clearing her history as soon as she gets answers. She’s never put anything in writing before, a fear still rising even after searching JStor for the word “lesbian.” She knows, logistically, that she is being as safe as possible, that her parents aren’t even technologically savvy.
April looks back at the email from TS. She’s gotten too good at this, looking at herself in a magnifying glass, able to name the small rush of jealousy when TS talked about her boyfriend, not that it’s anything new; TS’s boyfriend has been a constant in the past few years, a constant reminder that anything even adjacent to a crush on a girl whose face she has never seen and name she will never know is hopeless.
But, God, sometimes it’s the little things, the I doubt there are any boys worthy of you comments, that make half of April’s mouth turn up in a smile before she can stop herself. It’s silly, deeply unfounded, but it’s nice. To have this anonymous person say sweet things to her with no motivation but to simply say them. April wonders if those nice things would go away if April told her. Probably. The only things based on factual evidence she really knows about TS are that she went to church camp, has a boyfriend, and has a good relationship with her family. None of those exactly scream “ally.” She lets out a long breath before replying.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: boys
Good to know re: chain of boys. Happy for you and this boy who I assume is actually someone who can string more than two words together.
As for me, I’m afraid there is not much to report. My mother calls me a late bloomer, which I find remarkably condescending as someone who can have more academic conversations at fourteen than she could ever dream of. But maybe she’s right, that romance is just something that will be in my cards later. As for now, it’s a big chasm of nothing.
A
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: boys
You know what? Pardon my language, but fuck it. I lied in that last email. Yes, there are no boys in my future, but I hope someday, someday far away from here, far away from my parents, there will be romance.
With a girl. Because I’m gay. I’m a lesbian.
I’ve never said that out loud before. Well, I still haven’t. But writing this is more than I ever thought I would. It helps that I don’t know who you are, and more importantly, that you don’t know who I am, where I live, who my family is.
This is just like releasing it into the void. So, void, I hope that this is not the last time I write to you. I hope that this does not make you think any differently of me. If it does, well, that’s between you and God, honestly.
It’s been a nice three years, TS.
Love,
A
April quickly logs out, clears her history, closes the window, shuts down her laptop. She looks down at her knee, sees that it’s shaking. That won’t do. As quickly as she can, she throws on gym shorts and sneakers and practically sprints down the stairs, before quite literally sprinting out the door.
She makes it five blocks in the summer Georgia heat before stopping to lean over, palms on her knees. Sweat drips from her face onto the hot cement and her breath comes out in short bursts.
She told her. She told someone. A real person. She may have ruined the, embarrassingly, most consistent friendship she’s had in her adolescence so far, by telling her the closest kept secret to her chest, but she told someone. April thinks she might throw up, but she pushes past it and keeps running.
There’s an overlook about a mile from her house, a bench and a patch of grass that looks out over the city. April collapses onto the bench, lying down on her back with her feet dangling off the edge, not caring that her white t-shirt is probably getting dirt on it, not caring that she is most likely severely dehydrated.
It feels good to have her blood all rushing to her face, to have the cool wooden slats of the bench against her arms. It feels good to know that she typed the words I’m a lesbian and nothing happened. No smiting. She blinks up at the blindingly blue sky.
“You got me, right?” She asks out loud. The sky just stares back at her. Figures.
April never checks her email, never checks that email, on her phone. But today is not a normal day. It’s been only ten minutes, she reminds herself, but she continues, shakily logging into a new browser. There is one unread email. April inhales sharply, sending up a quick prayer before opening it.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: girls!
Dear A,
Okay first off, don’t EVER think that I would stop talking to you for any reason. Especially not because you’re gay. You’re amazing, no matter what. This even makes you more amazing. And besides, I was totally right, there IS no boy worthy of you.
I know that parents can be hard and I assume from where we both went to camp that it’s not the most accepting place, but I want you to know you have someone in your corner here. And I’m sure that your parents will come around someday. They have the best daughter in the world, remember?
And I know that someday, you are going to make some girl so happy. How could you not? You make me happy whenever I get an email from you and I’m just your pen pal. Someone out there is the luckiest girl in the world and she doesn’t even know it yet.
Thank you for telling me. I’m here if you need anything <3
Your friend ALWAYS,
TS
April’s not proud of it, but she cries. The sun sets over the Atlanta skyline and April cries big messy tears over someone saying “always,” over there being evidence in writing that telling someone didn’t destroy the fabric of her world. She cries with relief but also a gnawing pain in her, the knowledge that no matter what sweet, innocent, TS says, her parents won’t ever come around. Not really. But she has someone on her side now, she told someone and they responded with nothing but kindness. And maybe, right now, that’s enough.