First of all, I had such a blast writing this. Carissa is such a different and very complex character. And she's so different from Riley in so many ways! So I really went crazy writing this. My imagination was on fire. So don't be surprised if you see more Carissa inspired pieces in the future. That being said, I would really love to get some feedback on this particular piece! Enjoy this little glimpse into the origins of the gutter punk! And make sure to read until the end...because have you ever looked at Carissa and wondered...what is going on inside her head?
"Feliz cumpleaños, monster!" And the father will hug his thirteen year old daughter from behind, "Your mom made your favorite breakfast!"
Clad in a grey plaid skirt and a short sleeved white button down, socks that reach mid calf and mary-janes with an excessively messy ponytail, is Carissa, who's face is the epitome of ecstatic, "No way! Spicy eggs with bacon?! You guys never let me have that for breakfast!"
"That's right, Carissa." Her mother grins, "Come sit! You have to open your present from mommy and daddy!" The plate is nestled right on the table with a glass of water, "Happy birthday, sweetie."
She's already tearing into her breakfast with vengeance the moment she's sitting down. The starving preteen will wait for nothing. But when the box is placed in front of her, she'll wipe her mouth, and unwrap it with excitement. The moment the contents are revealed. It's obvious who picked the present. Mom. A curling iron and a set of nail polishes, the finest pinks and purples- finished off with a sparkly head bow. She'll do her very best to feign a smile in attempts to mask the disappointment, "...This is great, thanks so much!" I asked for a record player so I could play dads old vinyls.
But her father knows his daughter well and he can't in all good conscience let this slide, "Come on, Jo, you know she's not into that kinda' thing." He's calm in his tone. Though he's not looking for a fight, he knows the chances of one are pretty damn high considering the recent state of his wife's mental health, not to mention the state of their marriage.
"She's growing up, she's going to be interested in this kind of thing sooner or later, she'll thank me for it when that day comes." Already she's removing the presents from the table so her daughter can finish up her breakfast, "Besides, I know she asked for a record player, but the one she wants is a little too expensive for us right now." And with a smile she'll add, "But who knows? Christmas is around the corner, maybe Santa will help us out." She's certain by then they can manage it!
Carissa gives a weak smile. It's nice to know that if nothing else, her mother is trying. And Carissa doesn't mean to be so selfish. It's not about the fact that she didn't receive an expensive gift. It's about it being something that she's not interested in at all and her mom knows it. Hell, a pair of thrifted ripped jeans for two dollars would be nicer than some pink-a-fied crap that she'll never use. Whether her mother likes it or not, she's got a bonafide tomboy on her hands.
"But the point is even if one day she is interested in that stuff, she isn't right now. You don't think it's a little bit much to push it on her?"
His wife will eye him with daggers. The mood quickly turning sour, "Honey, your hair is a mess, let mommy fix it before school." Ah, the old ignore the elephant in the room tactic.
"No, it's too knotty. It'll hurt." She stares into her half finished breakfast. That head of hair likely hasn't seen a brush in over a month by now. She hates it when her mother pesters her. But after all, it is her birthday today...and maybe finally, "You know, if we got my hair fixed at a salon it could look really nice."
"Sweetie, we're not getting your hair cut. You want it really short and I told you already, I'm not sure I like that."
"But why?! I really wanna' cut my hair! It's no big deal and hair grows back!"
"Because."
"Because why, mom?!"
"Because it looks too-" She'll cut herself off, "...I just don't want you to cut your hair, okay? Maybe when you're older, but right now, you're not cutting it."
She'll sigh, "I have to get to school."
"Your father's taking you this morning. I'll be picking you up, okay?" She'll kiss her daughters head, "Have a good day, Carissa. Be good!"
She's quick to grab her backpack, hugging her six year old brother who's too busy camped out in front of the TV with a bowl of oatmeal for a proper goodbye before she's headed out the door. The mood may have been less than comfortable inside the house, but a car ride with dad always makes things better. At least he gets her.
In fact, the minute the car is started she's already feeling better. The breakfast fiasco becoming nothing but a thing of the past, "What's my monster girl feel like hearing today? Want some Aerosmith? Or how about Van Halen? We can do some Def Leppard too, found the old CD from our old back in Santa Fe house. Turns out it was in my guitar case this whole time."
"Van Halen! I want to hear Van Halen- pre Eddie's farewell." The minute the music starts, she'll crank up the volume and sing right along with the music, "OH YEAH! UH-HUH!"
He joins right in with a laugh, "JUMP BACK! WHAT'S THAT SOUND?" But he'll have to turn the volume down for a second, "Listen, I uh, I had a feeling your mom would gift you somethin' like that. So if you promise to tell her it's from a friend." He reaches into the back seat once they're at the first red light. He pulls a gift bag forward, dropping it into Carissa's lap, "aquí está su presente real (here's your real present). It's not record player, but I think you might like it."
"¡¿Que me trajiste?! (What did you get me)?!" Fingers tear away at tissue paper, immediately pulling the clothing item from the bag with both hands gripping the shoulders. It's held right in front of her face and her eyes widen with delight, as if she's staring at god himself, "Wooooah." A jean vest, frayed at the arm holes, studs gracing the shoulders, a few safety pins strewn about, "This is awesome!" Her smile is big enough to overpower everything else in that vehicle.
"Yeah, I picked that vest up at the thrift stop by my music venue! But I added the spikes and the pins. I know you've been collecting patches lately from all those shows and gutter stores you go to and you've had nowhere to put them. They're just piling in your desk drawer! I figured what better a place to put them than a vintage jean vest?"
"Dad, this is so kick ass!" Cursing at thirteen years old, it's not normally condoned. But the type of relationship this particular girl has with her father? It's deep enough that profanities aren't met with punishment or dismay." The minute the car comes to a stop in front of her school, she unbuckles and reaches over to hug him tight, "I love it so much! Thank you!"
"'Ay, no problem, monster. Now remember, if mommy asks-"
"I'll say Casey got it for me."
And the father will high five his daughter. But just as the door is shut, he'll roll the window down just to give a little parental advice, "Have a good day today! And don't draw pentagrams in the girls bathroom stalls! I won't back you up this time."
She'll turn around one more time, flashing her father finger guns, "No promises, dad!" But she's off like a firecracker, running into the school and right to her best friends locker, "Hey, gorgeous! Wanna' see something cool?" Her bruised knees only slightly bent with turned in feet. She's not one others would call graceful.
Her best friends eyes will roll, "I don't want to see your bra, Carissa." But it's a tease. Her best friend, clad in the same outfit (thanks to the private school's strict uniform enforced policies), has her hair in a messy bun, and the wisps of red hair compliment her cheeks. Her face is covered in freckles. Blue eyes hidden behind thick rimmed black glasses, "What's up? And happy birthday, by the by."
"Thanks. Look." She's pulling the vest right out of the gift bag, "Dad gave it to me in the car!"
"Oh, sweet!" Casey carefully strokes the fabric, "Your mom is gonna' totally freak when she sees it."
"Which is why if she asks, you gave it to me. She won't get mad at you, she loves you."
"Damn, that makes my twenty five dollar gift card look so crappy in comparison." She'll wrap an arm around her best friend, "So...you wanna' maybe...sleep over tonight? Y'know, to celebrate joining us thirteen year olds?"
Carissa nearly jumps out of her skin. Her heart is racing, "You mean...just you and me?"
But that smile, it's so genuine, "Yeah, just me and you." With a sigh she'll add, "You're my best friend and I feel bad because I know that we haven't really spent much time together since I joined the select chorus. I wanna' make it up to you! I even told the girls that I can't hang tonight because I made plans with me bestie."
"...Um...yeah, yeah okay. I'd love that." Tonight. She thinks to herself, triumphant and prepared. Tonight I'm going to tell her.
"Awesome! Be at my house around seven, okay? Come on, let's get to bible study Before Sister Maria has a fit on us again."
The day is the same as always. Carissa's posture becomes the topic of discussion as always as sits with her legs spread apart. And every teacher tells her the same things day in and day out.
Close your legs!
You're in a skirt, do you want to look like a floozy?!
Stop distracting the boys like that! Oh that one always makes her laugh.
That's not lady like!
And stop slouching!
Then there's bible study- once every morning and afternoon. She asks controversial questions that upset every teacher it's presented to.
But what if god is a woman?
I don't understand why if we pray to him he doesn't answer us.
How do we know he's real if we can't hear him confirm our prayers?
But then why do wars and disease happen if we're all such good Catholics?
Mary was a whore, though, right? Like straight up. She slept with men for money?
You know, Jesus couldn't be white. He was from the middle east.
You say god doesn't like gays, but Jesus was 'the little guy' so he FOUGHT for the little guy. If you ask me, he'd fight for the gays.
If god loves everybody, then saying he hates gays is a contradiction.
Do you just make things up as you go in the name of your god?
It lands her in the principals office nearly every day. Often times it's because she poses good arguments. She's speaking truth and they don't want to answer her because they know she's not necessarily wrong. It's all routine. It's to the point that even the office shoos her away. She's just curious after all. There has been one incident with the principal, that to this day, remains the single reason as to why she no longer receives detention.
"I don't understand, Carissa, why do you push their buttons?"
"I'm not trying to!" She'll argue, "...Sister Maria says to always trust god and have faith in him. But I was brought up differently. My dad always said, you should always respect religion, but you can't know if it's right for you unless you question it. If there's something you're not sure about, you try to find the answers you need. Only then can you know if it's for you. And I can't follow someone who probably wouldn't like me!"
"...Well, can I know what the big question is that you need answers to? What do you mean by...he wouldn't like you?"
Her hands twiddle nervously in her lap. she can only fixate on the tiled floor, "I can tell you if you promise not to tell my parents or let anyone know."
He's suddenly very nervous. The look on the student's face fills him with concern, "...You can tell me, Miss Smith, I'll keep it between us."
"...If god doesn't like gay people, then why would I want to be a part of this faith?" After a brief pause, she'll finally look up at her principal, "Why would I want to follow someone so blindly if I know that deep down, he wouldn't like the real me?"
It nearly brings the principal to tears. So suddenly the room is heavy, "You know, I don't think he dislikes anyone for their sexual preference. For some reason, certain practices of this religion do believe that...but that's something I don't believe to be true. It's...all about interpretation."
"Which is...why I ask questions. The more I know, the more I realize it's...not for me. I'll quietly respect, but I can't practice it."
He'll sigh, "...I understand. You should get back to class, Miss Smith. I won't be giving you detention. Just...try not to be so...curious. Just like you said, quietly respect and no more questions." And he'll smile at her tenderly.
"...No promises, sir, but I'll try."
The day seemed to drag on forever. In truth, she'd been anxious all day over the sleepover plans for the evening. The nerves come and go, but the minute she's home, she gets changed into a pair of black leggings and a Flogging Molly over sized t-shirt. Just as she's finished packing for her little sleep over, she'll reach for her door, but the shouting is enough for her to pause where she stands. They're fighting again. And about her. What a shock. Instead, the duffel back is placed on the ground and she's left leaning against her bedroom door.
"I don't see what the problem is!" A father who loves his daughter would defend anything and everything about her.
"You know I'm concerned about her! And no matter what my feelings are about it, you don't seem to care! You don't care at all!"
"Tell me what you're concerned about."
"Don't do this to me, Mario, don't you dare!"
"Say it."
"Don't you dare!"
"Say it, Jo. I want you to say it. I want you to say that you're worried she's gay."
"Stop it, Mario, just stop it!"
"And the only reason you're avoiding this is because you know how ridiculous you sound! You sound like a homophobic bigot and you don't want anything affecting your perfect little life! It makes me sick! You need to face facts and get help! I know what this is really about!"
"Alright, I'll say it! I'm worried she's gay! I'm afraid she's a lesbian and what that will do to her in this awful world we live in! That little harpy- Casey- she did it!"
"...The girl is thirteen. What could she possibly have done?! They're not even teenagers yet. Don't be ridiculous, you sound like an idiot." A sigh, "And so what? One day she tells us she's a lesbian! There's nothing wrong with that! Let her be who she wants to be! I'm so sick of you pushing a certain type of way on her! Everyone in this world has a right to be who they want to be and that's no different for our daughter!"
"I don't want a gay daughter!" It's as simple as denial and a toxic marriage. Deep down, she would love Carissa no matter what. But the marriage is loveless. It has been for years. A typical stay together for the kids mindset. In a way, Carissa's mother is simply jealous of the relationship between her husband and her daughter. It's clear they share more in common, they're closer. She tries so hard to find common ground with Carissa, but it never seems to work because she never quite understands her. And it kills her. Everyone pictures their child a certain way. Carissa is the opposite of what she imagined. Little does she know. Her daughter can hear it all.
And so she'll enter, looking nothing short of upset and mad, "I'm going now. I'm gonna' walk she's only down the block."
Her mother stands tall, takes a breath as if she's trying to push the negative energy out of the room, "If you decide you want to come home make sure you have your keys, angel. And if you need us, give me or your father a call, okay? We love you, be good- and remember please and thank you."
"I will." Only her father gets a hug before she leaves.
And he knows what that passive aggression means, "She obviously heard you, Joanne."
"Is that my fault? Since, you know, you were the one that initially brought this up."
"Yes. Yes it is, because you said it with her in this house! And no child wants to hear their parent talk that way! So why don't you say the real reason: you're unhappy, and you're just sick enough to take it out on your own kid!"
"Sick enough?! Who was the one his wife had to bail out of jail?! Who's the reason we're short on money- and why our daughter couldn't get a record player for her birthday?! You have to sell the venue because they won't even let you keep it after what you've done to avoid paying for it!"
"And you know what? I owned up to my mistakes and I set a good example because of it! But you? You just sit here and beat her down for every choice she makes! You don't like the way she dresses, you don't like her posture, you hate her music! You're raising our daughter to feel like everything she enjoys is wrong! It's disgusting and selfish! You better face facts! Your little princess? She's not a princess. She's a warrior. A warrior. She's her own savior! She takes after her father and you hate that!"
"I want a divorce."
The man will lean back. Hands raised in the air with an ironic chuckle, "Call the lawyer. I'll be out of her as soon as I find a place. But it better be joint custody. Or I'll refuse to sign the papers."
Poor Carissa, peeking through the front window of their home. She heard it all. She sees everything. I'm tearing them apart. This is all my fault. With fists clenched, she'll storm off, "Screw them. I'm tired of the fighting!"
This is the time it all manifests. The confusion. The anger. Tonight it's confirmed. She's laying in bed with her best friend. Casey, she's right beside her. Carissa is playing with her hair, "I like you." It's blurted out so nonchalantly. Even though it's been hidden for at least four months now.
Casey doesn't look up from the TV screen, "I like you too, Carissa, you know that. You're my number one."
"No...I mean. I like you. Like...I like you, like you."
Casey will sit up, muting the TV, "...Oh." It's a lot for her to take in, "...I think I might too."
And so Carissa will be bold. She doesn't hold back. Tenacious as ever, she'll sit up and lean right in. Hand pressed to Casey's cheek. A kiss, slow and soft to her lips.
And Casey's lips. They'll curl into a smile only briefly. But when she pulls away, there's something about her face. It's enough to make Carissa uneasy.
"I-I'm sorry, should I not have kissed you?"
But Casey so suddenly returns the gesture with a very brief kiss, "Let's just get some sleep, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm pretty tired. Mom and dad were fighting again."
"Again?" She'll turn her light off before she's climbing under the covers, "Was it really bad?"
"...Mom said she wants a divorce."
"Oh no." Casey turns onto her side. Her eyes are sympathetic, "...I'm so sorry, Carissa."
"...Me too. Because, even if it's for the best. I'm gonna' wanna' live with my dad. And I don't think my mom will let me."
"That's not fair. Your mom can't just say no! Do you think if you talk to her about it she might let you?"
"...I don't know. But I might try."
The rest of the weekend had been miserable, in fact. They talked to each kid separately about the divorce. Just as suspected, Carissa's mother refused to allow her to live with her father. There had been a silver lining, "But you can stay with him whenever you want." She'll be there every weekend. She already knows that much.
Returning to school was a relief. Even if Casey seems...distant, but it's not entirely different than her usual self considering her recent popularity. That is until she comes to the realization that things are only getting worse. By the time they return after Christmas break (and that'd been months after they kissed!), she's being ignored at every turn.
[text: Carissa 01/17]: Hey! Mall tonight?
[text: Carissa 01/17]: Hello?
[text: Casey 01/18]: Sorry! My phone wasn't on me lol I went out with some girls from the select chorus! maybe another time? x
[text: Carissa 02/14]: Happy Valentines Day! Will you be mine? 3
[text: Carissa 02/26]: You free yet?
[text: Carissa 03/11]: Wanna' go to the St. Patrick's Day parade together next week?
[text: Casey 03/12]: You're smothering me lmao
[text: Carissa 03/12]: Okay lmao did I miss the memo? We're best friends and I haven't hung out with you since October for my birthday unless you count the five minutes you actually agreed to meet me at Taco Bell and then left?
[text: Casey 03/12]: I have a life now sweetie so I don't always have time on my hands sorry xoxo
But on that day, April 11th. Carissa, wanting so badly to see the good in this girl, gives it one more try. She enters the school building with a knot in her stomach. She's holding a bouquet of pink roses. Casey's favorite flowers. And stuck within them, is a birthday card. She'll spend at least ten minutes standing there, waiting for the crowd of friends to disperse from her best friends locker. But they've all decorated her locker as per the typical birthday tradition. They're showering her with gifts. If the crowd is there to stay, well then, tenacious Carissa will have to brave the storm. She strides forward confidently, "Um. Hey Casey."
The laughter and the smiles come to a halt. Every girl (who all seem as though they're the exact same person because, my god, in Carissa's eyes, they look like clones of one another), eyes her with enough judgement to bring her confidence down a notch. She'll feign distaste, masking the worry before turning to her best friend. Offering the flowers with a smile, "Happy Birthday. I didn't know what exactly to get you so, um. I thought this and maybe...a movie together."
Casey takes the flowers from Carissa's shaking fingers. And though she's smiling...it shouldn't be trusted.
Carissa is returning that smile, because to her, nothing is more satisfying than seeing your crush excited over a gift you've given them- and a potential movie date!
It won't last, "Listen, I get that you're into girls, even if you haven't really said it for real yet." And those flowers are gently shoved back into Carissa's heartbroken hands, "But I'm just not, okay? So I appreciate...all this, but no thank you. I'm not interested." She'll turn to the other girls with a laugh, "I know, she's like, in love with me, but it's rude to accept a gift from someone like that, right? I just don't wanna' lead her on."
They all nod in agreement with a, "Yeah." before all eyes are on her. As if they're waiting for a melt down. They want to see her cry.
But no. They won't get crying. Carissa is not a sad soul. She is a warrior. The bouquet is tossed angrily against the hallway floor, "That's so funny! I guess when you kissed me back on the lips at that sleepover we had months ago, you must've forgotten that you didn't have feelings for me."
The horror on Casey's face says it all, as does the shock of her supposed friends, "Carissa!" Teeth gritted, she'll lean in, "Can we not do this? We'll talk about that later."
All she'll do is smirk. Chuckle with an, "Oops." She doesn't care anymore. About embarrassing her friend, or what anybody thinks, but one thing is certain. She is out of there and heading home. It's time to stop freaking hiding.
She's quiet all through dinner that evening. Her father, still at the venue- looks like someone's interested in buying it, isn't there to join them. Her mother attempts conversation, in between silly banter with her six year old who's all too fidgety tonight, "Honey, are you okay? You're unusually quiet."
"Just...thinkin' about the divorce." Not really, "Promise I can see dad every weekend?
"Every weekend. We're going to be moving as soon as we can. And we've both agreed to make sure we're as close to him as possible for you and Brendan's sake." She'll suppose now is as good a time is any, "Because, um, I know you love it here in SoCal, but just be prepared...it looks like your father found work. But it's in San Francisco. Within the next year, we're probably going to move there."
"Honestly? That sounds great. Under the condition I get to go to public school." Good riddance to everyone I know. I'm going to move and when I do? I'm not going to hold back who I am anymore, "Hey, mind if I turn in early? Had a long day."
"Of course, Carissa. We'll talk more tomorrow before school. I love you."
"...Love you too, mom." She'll excuse herself, drop her dirty dishes into the sink before she's headed to her room. It takes one glance in that full length mirror. She eyes her appearance from top to bottom. She has no idea who she's even staring at. Who the fuck is this cream puff?
So ridiculous. This girl so isn't us. We look like a cream puff, straight up. We ain't no cream puff! And on the bright side, moving to San Francisco means joining Crystal's band! That's where the right people are. That's where we belong.
I'm not going to hide anymore.
Down the hall and right into the bathroom. The door is slammed shut so forcefully, the painting against the adjacent wall falls right to the floor with a loud thud. I'm not fucking hiding anymore. I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm not.
It starts with a nice, hot shower. It's almost impossible to scrub through knotted hair. By this stage in her life, it reaches down right between her shoulder blades. She's quick in her actions, washing, shaving, contemplating. It's over as quickly as it begins. When she steps out, she'll towel off. And for the very first time, it'll begin. Months ago, she'd been sly in stealing a pair of boxer briefs from her local Target. Is she proud of that? No. But it's something she needed to do. They've not been worn once since the initial steal. Today? That changes, they're slipped on with ease, right along with a black bra. The medicine cabinet mirror is wiped down, "Goodbye, cream puff...hello Carissa."
Dad's electric buzzer. Right to the sides of her head without an ounce of regret. God, it feels so...freeing! She steps back, laughing at her own reflection. Currently, her hair looks like a crappily done mullet. Oh, not for long, though. Because next come the scissors. They snip away and snip away...and snip the fuck away. When it's all said and done, she'll blow dry it all, sweep up every bit of hair she finds about the bathroom. The sides of her head are officially buzzed, and the now short, thick head of hair atop her head is choppy and the absolute epitome of a boy style hair cut. Carissa Smith is in love. With a turn of her head from side to side, she admires her defined cheeks, "Damn, where was this gorgeous dyke face hiding?" That word: D Y K E. Some people hate it. But Carissa? Oh, she adores it. Because that's who she's meant to be. It's who she wants to be: A dyke with a beautiful face.
That night it'll be so easy to drift off to sleep. She'll wake up early, strategically getting herself ready in the bathroom before her mother wakes up. It's done like this on purpose. She knows there's bound to be a fight, she'll likely be shocked to the core. Because today? Farewell to the girl's uniform. It's time for the grey dress pants, the white button down with the collar popped, the three buttons will remain unbuttoned. And when she's finished brushing her teeth and gelling her hair just right, once again she'll smirk in the mirror, "Well, there you are. I've been lookin' for you." A little pep talk before the big reveal is just what she needs, "Do you know that you've been stuck in there for what, two years now? You're way hotter than I thought you'd be." She'll cover her face with her hands, laughing proudly before she's eyeing her reflection again, "And I'm tellin' you, now that we finally did this? We're unstoppable. So, let's go out there and unapologetically be...me." The black docs are tied tightly, and with one final check in the mirror, she'll brave the first reveal.
Her mom is fixated on the TV in the kitchen as she's preparing fresh toast, and Carissa will sit down at the kitchen table as if it's the same as usual, "Ay! Morning, mom. What's for breakfast?"
"Morning, angel, I actually have to meet your father at the venue." And just as she finally turns around, "So I only had time to make you some- Jesus Christ on the cross." The look on her face- mommy dearest is livid. With her hand pressed right to her chest, she'll waste no time, "Carissa Smith, are you out of your fucking mind?! You're dressed like a boy! And you cut your hair after I've specifically told you time and time again not to!"
Feeling bold, Carissa decides to reach for her book bag, "Y'know what? I can just grab a bagel on my way to school. I'll walk since you need to calm down. We can talk later okay? You're obviously not ready to face the reality."
"Are you kidding me? No! We're talking about this now! And how about you're grounded for disobeying me!"
The laugh is sarcastic in it's presentation, "You don't get it! Do you? You really don't get it! Are you really that much in denial about this?" She'll pause, gripping her backpack tightly, "I wasn't disobeying you when I did this. I was finally being myself. I'm not gonna' pretend anymore."
"Pretend?! Pretend?! You sound nuts- what are you-" She knows, deep down, that she can't play dumb much longer, "What the hell's wrong with you!?"
Because that warrior isn't going to let her do that anymore, "I'm a lesbian, mom."
And she's left her mother speechless.
"...So the daughter that you don't want is gonna' go to school now. And maybe after you take the day to think about it...we can sit down and talk about it. Just me and you...without dad." She's already backing up towards the door, opening it with such precision, "I'll see you later, okay? I love you. And I really hope you still love me too. I'd hate it if I couldn't watch Brendan grow up."
School is as brutal as expected. It seems every fifteen minutes or so, a classmate walks right up to her with no shame and asks the exactly same question every time, "Carissa? What the heck happened are you like a lesbo now?"
"And proud of it, so if you think any gay jokes are going to bother me, let me assure you they won't with a little message! Kiss my dyke ass."
The most shocking moment of the day is when she's exiting ninth period, anxious about going home and waiting at her locker is...Casey. She'll take a a moment to compose herself before striding right over, "Can I help you, closet case?" She's a little proud of that clever nickname.
"Listen...my friends are not like...you know, they're popular girls."
"And you're not ready to come out, I get that, but that doesn't excuse what a bitchy thing it was for you to do what you did to me in front of them."
"You're right and I really am sorry about that, but there's something else." She'll sigh, looking sympathetic, "...I think I just got nervous and said I liked you too. But the thing is...the kissing? I didn't...like it. I don't think I like girls."
Carissa will shut her locker. She'll swallow hard, hand sliding down the metal door, "Ouch."
"I'm really, really sorry. I gave it a shot, but it just wasn't for me. So if maybe you could just put that stuff in the past and pretend it never happened and we can move on."
"I already have."
"...I'm sorry?"
Carissa will meet her former friend's gaze, "You're a shitty friend, Casey. And we're done. You have nothing that I want."
"C-Carissa-!"
"No!" She's already stepping away, "We're done, Casey." For all eyes to see, all ears to hear, "We're done."
It sucks, in a way. Going home isn't easy. She stands at her front door for thirty solid minutes. After this morning and knowing all of the things her mother has said, for all she knows, this could be it. Her life could change forever, in a really awful way. I can't avoid it, just woman up! She'll finally open the door and there, on the couch is her crying mother who perks up the minute her daughter enters. She'll sniffle, wipe her eyes abruptly, "Honey-h- here um. Why don't you have a seat and...we can talk."
Though cautious, she'll shut the door behind her and drop her backpack beside the door. Right next to her mother on the couch. She's torn between starting the conversation or waiting for her mother to speak first, "...Have you known for a while?"
Surprisingly, her mother will smile, "I've known since you were about seven when you told me you wanted to marry Ellen Page."
Okay, so this isn't so bad. Carissa is smiling back, "...Did...did you mean what you said months ago? You don't want me...like this?"
That's when the tears begin to fall again, "I-I was a mess- it's no excuse but, your father and I have been over for...a very long time and-h- I was jealous of your relationship with him." She takes a breath, "I see how close you are with him. Nobody in this world makes you light up the way he does a-and I tried so hard to connect with you the way he does, but he was always the music rocker and I was always the shopaholic who likes to see Broadway shows. I couldn't compete- We're so different. I knew it was over and I took it out on you because I'm not completely okay." And then comes the bigger reveal, "I-I spoke to a therapist today. I'm on medication for depression now because it's...the reason for my actions, what triggered the awful things I as saying. It's no excuse, but that's why." She'll wipe her eyes once again, "And...if you'll accept the biggest apology I can possibly offer...maybe we can start fresh and try to fix our relationship? I don't want to lose my daughter."
So maybe she's crying just a little too. She'll suck in a deep breath, "...I really would like that, if you're willing to let me...be me?"
"Of course, honey, of course!" And she'll put her hands right atop her daughters shoulders, "I didn't mean those things I said, I never meant them. And I love you no matter what. And I promise, with this move comes your freedom. To be who want, date who you want, dress how you want. I think...even if this divorce is hard, it could be good for all of us. Because the thing is...your father and I work better as friends, not as a couple. It can only get better from here."
"So...we're definitely moving?"
"We're moving right after this Thanksgiving, so we still have time, but yes, we're definitely moving. So you'll do one more semester at St. Patrick's after this one and then you'll start at a new, public school, come January."
It's enough for Carissa to embrace her mother genuinely, "I-I'm sorry I just sprang all of this on you. But it was so hard pretending. It was like, I looked in the mirror and hated everything I saw because I wasn't looking at me. I was looking at some mask I was wearing to make everyone else happy and I couldn't do it anymore."
"You don't need to explain. I was harsh this morning, but I was...surprised. So maybe, when summer starts, you can teach me...everything there is to know about the new- ...the real you."
"...I'd love that."
"Come on." She's reaching for her daughters hand to lead her into the kitchen, "I made the chocolate filled brownies you love as a peace offering. Let's start fixing things now."
"Wow, you're really buttering me up!" It'll be followed by a laugh anyway, "When we move to San Francisco I'm joining my friends band!"
"A band, huh? What are you playing?"
"Drums!"
"Oh, then I guess we ought to check around and see if we can find you a decent set, huh?"
Monday, January 5th. Happy New Year, it's time for public school.
The main screen is activated at 6:30 AM on the dot. The main emotion, red in color. She's curvy, a shaved head, and a pair of black ripped jeans and a white shirt with a red plaid tie, "Get up, assholes, we're burning daylight in here!" Anger, she's oh so tenacious. But as the gutter girl's headliner, she's always the first to wake up, "Let's go! We start at the new school today!"
Joy comes running to take her seat next to anger. Her blue mohawk is looking extra good today, and her yellow plaid skater dress is extra pressed and clean today, "I'm here! Sorry, Crystal sent us that new song we need to look over before Friday! We kept screwing up the drum solo at practice yesterday I stayed up to try and get the sheet music memorized."
Fear is looking over her clipboard. A purple plaid vest covered in various patches. Though she'll argue her personal favorite one is the one that's attached to the right vest pocket 'fuck fear, just scream really loud'. Her black jeans are lowcut, revealing prominent hips, though her body is fairly masculine, "Okay so I'm thinkin' worst case scenario there's a school shooter and we get shot before Friday's gig. Like, that would definitely suck ass."
"Agreed." Disgust will interject, wearing her signature 80′s style ripped black t-shirt and green high waisted shorts with a loosely buckled studded belt. Her hair is retro styled, bangs tied back with a green, twisted banana, "Crystal finally dumped that girl with the ugly ass hair- the girl with that weird ass mullet looking thing with the badly dyed purple tips? What was she thinking? Like, girl, you're hot, why are you dating an ugly hag? I so badly wanted to say something, but it always ends in a fight with her, so."
"Well, we don't even have a girlfriend, so I think it sucks that now she's joining the singles club when it sucks." Oh, Sadness, where would she be without your messy short hair with that emo side bang and thick rimmed black glasses? If you weren't too busy being nearly buried alive in your black leather jacket and over sized blue t-shirt and leather pants, everyone would be shutting you down real quick, "I hate getting up so early."
"Yeah, well we need to because we don't know where the fuck anything in this new school is." Anger is already turning to Disgust, "Yo. What's she wearing today?"
"Plain black t-shirt because she finally got around to gettin' all those patches on the jean vest her dad got her like, ages go. It looks kick ass. Then we're doin' dark wash skinnies and the studded boots from Gutter Punk. A 14 year old punk dream. It's perfect."
"Sounds good, get her hair gelled to one side just right. Retro boystyle cut's been cute, but we should go back to the choppy one, I loved that."
"Eventually, I'm diggin' the retro greaser look lately."
"Well, let's finish up, we gotta' get this asshole to school, everyone focus and don't piss me off."
One quick look in the mirror just as she hears her mother shout from downstairs, "Carissa! You're gonna' be late! Get down here and kiss me goodbye!"
She's putting the finishing touches on her hair when she'll return the tone, "Alright, I'll be down in a sec!" One more glance and she's reaching for her ratty messenger bag, "...And away we go." New school, new friends, new life. She's so ready. The gutter punk will come bounding down the stairs where she'll lightly tap her brother on the head, "Have a good day, kiddo!" And she'll reach up to kiss her mother's cheek. Things are better than ever, "Bye, mom!"
"Bye, baby, good luck today and give em' hell! Your dad's coming over later to drop off the drum set for the show!"
"I know I'll be home around three!" Out the door she goes.
'San Francisco is way better than SoCal. Much gayer, too. It's bad ass.'
'Nothing beats the drag queen that we met at the pier that night Crystal lost her phone.'
'If it weren't for Miss Bug-a-Boo she woulda' never found that bad boy.'
'Hashtag drag queens find missing phones.'
'Disgust, if you ever use the term hashtag again I'm going to beat the shit out of you.'
'Oh, whatever.'
The school itself is pretty intimidating at first glance. It's way bigger than her old one. The first thing she's in search of is the main office. She needs her schedule.
"New meat looks lost." Standing before her seemingly out of nowhere is a boy wearing a pair of jeans and a basic blue zip up hoodie.
"...Can I help you, kid?" The raised brow should be enough to indicate she wasn't crazy about his tone.
"Ah, my bad. I wasn't looking to start anything, just messing with you." he'll wave his hands dismissively, "If you're looking for the main office you just want to go straight ahead and it's going to be to your right. Next to the janitor taking down the fake Christmas tree."
"Oh, yeah, perfect, thanks, kid."
"It's Carl, but kid works. What grade?"
"Carissa. Eighth."
"Sweet, me too." He'll nod, "Well, good luck, Carissa. See you around and if you get lost, don't hesitate to ask."
"Thanks, I'm sure I'll be fine, but I'll keep it in mind." The minute she's stepping away, she'll take a minute to observe the halls just to get her barrings. She's ready to trudge along when suddenly and walking right past her...
'Holy shit, hello, gorgeous.'
'Who is that?'
Walking with what looks to fit the bill of an obvious best friend by the way she gushes, is the most beautiful girl Carissa has ever seen in her entire life. Light brown hair with medium blonde highlights. It's shoulder length and clad with a side bang. Pale blue eyes...she's perfect. And oh god, that smile.
'I need her.'
'Oh, we gotta ask her out.'
'She might not even be gay.'
"Oh, come on they are not!" The rather vague phrasing is enough to peak Carissa's curiosity. Excuse the snooping. At least the two girls are blissfully unaware of the figure watching them at their lockers from the sidelines.
The mystery girl unbuttons her coat, stows it away as she gets down on her knees to grab for her books, "I'm just…not really all that interested in dating. We're only thirteen, and out of all of us, you're the only one with a boyfriend anyway."
And to her luck, it's exactly what she wants to hear. They're talking about relationships of all things! It's fate.
But the attractive girl stands, closes her locker, binder clutched close, "But hey, one day, like you with Carl, my Prince Charming will come and sweep me off my feet! Just…not right now." Riley gives a reassuring grin.
She'll watch them step away.
'Oh that girl is DEFINITELY gay.'
'Oh yeah, the gaydar is going nuts in here. She's definitely playin' for the right team. If she's avoiding boys it's because she doesn't want them.'
'Well just make sure you guys aren't fucking pricks about it. If she isn't out yet, we gotta' take this slow or we'll lose her.'
'Got it, got it, everyone chill out.'
It sucks that she's already late to her first class, but at least the main office was kind enough to offer up a late pass. And the staff is really welcoming, she likes it here already for sure. Carefully she'll open the classroom door in attempts to be as discreet as possible knowing class has begun. Her eyes immediately fall on that very same girl.
'Dude, we have the same first period as her? What luck!'
"Ah, it seems we have a new student, she transferred from a few towns over!"
'Lady we're from SoCal, that's a lot of towns over.'
"This is Carissa Smith, and she'll be joining us for the remainder of the year! Why don't you take a seat right over there next to Riley?"
'Ah, so her name is Riley. Cute. I like it.'
Carissa nods, before crossing the room to make her way to the unoccupied desk. She'll lock eyes with this Riley.
'God, she's so cute. Let's fluster her.'
'Ooh, yes, please! I love doing that to girls!'
She'll raise her brows suggestively before giving an equally devious little smile followed by a wink. When she sees the all too satisfying reaction she's been given, her attention is drawn to her notebook where she'll proceed to doodle instead of pay attention. Tomorrow is another day. The class is almost finished anyway, why bother trying to keep up now? Carissa is distracted enough as it is, because she can see it in her peripheral vision. That girl- Riley. Riley is staring at her...hardcore. This is perfect. Now the nerves are for a different reason.
'She's looking right at us, what should we do?
'I don't know, I'm fucking nervous! She's a total babe.'
'Too much of a babe, if you ask me- no way we're gonna' bag her.'
'Shut up, we're gorgeous we totally have a shot so let's take a breath and give it the ol' college try.'
A deep inhale because she'll be brave just one more time. Her future depends on it. New friends, new school, new life. This could be the start of the new her- the real her. And so their eyes will meet again, "You make a habit of not paying attention in class, little miss?"
She watches the color rush to the girls cheeks, Riley stammers as she speaks, "G-guess I'm just tired after the break h-heh. You know?"
There's a brief pause. It can't be helped, she's taking the time to admire that adorable face. As if she's looking to freeze frame every detail of it into her mind forever. She can feel it already. There's something different about this girl. She's been struck hard. Harder than usual. Usually flirting with girls is easy. Yeah, outwardly she looks un-phased. Inside, Carissa's heart is pounding in her ears, "I feel you…but if you keep staring." Carissa is flashing a genuine smile now, "I think I'll have to tell the teacher." So clearly joking, she laughs a little. And once Riley joins her, she holds out her hand, "Carissa."
'God, please shake it, you're so cute.'
"R-Riley." To her relief, it's gripped. The handshake is returned.
"Nice to meet you, you're really pretty." The hand is drawn back with a wide grin. Just as the bell rings. And she'll proceed to gather her belongings. But before she'll exit, she'll come to join Riley at her side, where she tucks a section of hair behind Riley's ear, "See you around, Riles." With a cool sort of confidence she's striding out of the classroom with a triumphant look on her face Oh, I'm gonna' get your number damn fast. That's a promise, Riley.
'...I think we just met the love of our life.'