a/n: title come from the Tori Amos song "Cornflake Girl", from the album "Under the Pink". Since this album was released in 1994 in the US, Kate would've been able to listen to the album. It only seems appropriate to use Tori Amos music to write about Kate.

She knows what's going on

Seems we got a cheaper feel now

All the sweeteaze are gone

Gone to the other side

With my encyclopedia

They musta paid her a nice price

She's putting on her string bean love

Cornflake Girl

Tori Amos

I.

On the first day of junior year, Kate wears a red and gold flannel shirt over a white tee-shirt; now that she's more settled into her new lesbian identity, she wants to talk about it more. When a cute girl walks by her in the hallways of school, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum of the scuffed floor, Kate lets herself admit that the girl is beautiful. The walk a girl walks, her hair flowing behind her with reckless abandon, makes Kate's heart skip a few beats..

It's wonderful, knowing who she is at last; it's only a fraction of her identity, but it's a large enough one that admitting it changes her life for the better that Kate cannot separate herself from. it's important to be cool about the whole thing. Loving girls isn't wrong, and Kate feels a sense of liberation being able to open up about it. Her sense of self becomes enriched, a layer of complexity added to her personality. Having figured something so important about herself that nagged at her with a lethargic, angry voice whistling at her changed Kate for the better.

It's a blessing that no one's been outright cruel about this revelation. The relief of only being humiliated by her forced identity of being the freaky quiet principal's daughter is quiet a palpable sensation. Rumors pass along the hallways, as they always do when something new arises from any student, and Kate's heart hurts because her being gay is part of the whispering. She gets the brunt of the pain when strangers from her classes confront her about it, words of disgust dripping from their mouths as they ask ignorant questions about loving girls.

Anyone acting like she's a demon or a monster for her attractions briefly forces her to consider retreating back to the closet. The mere thought of being hated or judged or someone holding prejudice against her for who she likes sets her body on fire with shame. For the briefest, most terrifying of moments, Kate wondered if it was personal. The conclusion? Probably not, even if it was painful to hear. She does her best to let the comments roll off her back, even though it's painfully hard to ignore the lack of logic.

She wears a goofy grin more often, to combat the anger and judgment from the and it makes Luke (the friend from the AV club that acted as the glue to keep everyone together) laugh. Of course her coping mechanism has to be a grin that cheesy!

She's so happy remembering that her lesbianism isn't a sickness, isn't a bad mistake or a choice that would be unraveled if she "found the right man". Luke's a sophomore and his terms of endearment become sillier, more hilariously convoluted. Once, he called her a "lesbian labrador retriever-mouse hybrid chewing on plaid" and she's unsure why he thought that strange word salad would stick as a viable nickname. Kate's acceptance of Luke's inability to create lasting, meaningful nicknames was their new running joke, which is a facet of their platonic bond that Kate wishes never breaks.

II.

With Luke, McQuaid, and Tyler by Kate's side during the year of AV club shenanigans, it takes a little too long to register that Emaline becomes more distracted with college applications. When it finally clicks that Emaline's on an ambitious streak applying to theatre schools all over the states, even out of Boring, Oregon, Kate's heart sinks. Emaline's the first love that taught Kate about herself, and she's unsure if she can handle Emaline leaving.

Emaline promises to Kate that they're still friends, they're still importance to their relationship even if it's just platonic, and that they can talk as much as they'd like over the landline. Kate's unsure dad is okay with the long distance calls and she fears she'll lose the girl who opened the doors to her identity forever. It's probably irrational. Nothing from high school lasts forever. Realistically, everything will change and she'll be different enough to accept that Emaline represents an idea that Kate latched on to. She's not quite mature enough yet to truly comprehend that revelation.

(It'll take her until well after she graduates college to really accept that school and the "real world" are so different that they're not even comparable.)

What will happen now that an integral part of Kate's life will be disappearing? She should be happy for Emaline, who's aiming for the moon by applying to Tisch and Juilliard and Emerson for acting. Kate is truly happy, but not particularly ready to admit that Emaline's importance in her life may be one-sided. After the kiss, they had stayed close but it took distance in the form of summer to put a wedge in their friendship.

Kate loves Emaline, sure, but Kate may not be in love with Emaline. That's not a fun revelation to stew upon, so she shoves it to the side to focus on their still wonderful friendship. Emaline lights up when she talks about the prospect of becoming an actress, of being recognized for her natural prowess and charisma and off-beat, small town charm.

When Emaline gets accepted to Emerson, she keeps Kate update on everything fantastic about the school right before she goes; it sounds like the perfect school, and they even provided her with a substantial scholarship. Maybe Emaline wasn't going to be gone forever. After all, Kate always wanted to go to Boston.

III.

Kate starts a gay-straight alliance, and Kate doesn't understand why the administrators are initially hesitant to understand why she'd be interested in this at all. She'd think her principal dad would get it, being so supportive at home and all. They tell her they're hesitant because the last time a GSA was set up by a student, it didn't work out. No one could plan anything that resembled a club well enough.

Sure enough, Kate's determination to create a community makes it clear to administration she's going to succeed where her predecessors failed.

Being alone isn't the way to be, and Kate wants others to feel like she does: happy to be themselves, with at least a modicum of support somewhere. Even if support came from a club stifled by school rules, it was better than nothing; after all, a lack of support made life unnecessarily difficult-"thanks, Captain Obvious, for pointing that out," Luke would've said jokingly- and it was Kate's duty to follow through on this lofty promise.

They met after school in the senior english classroom on the second floor in the corner where the punks hid while trying to listen to Nirvana and Sex Pistols and Ramones on a poorly assembled boom box. It's nice to have a community even if the soundtrack from the punk's corner often clashes with the serious bonding mood.

Kate Messner is a lesbian, and she will never be alone.