Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they own themselves.
Warning: This story is about little kids and experimentation. There's nothing much, but the slash is there.
A/N: This fandom has no femslash and very little slash. This lack must be remedied.
Sheryl isn't a girl's girl. Sheryl is tough and never backs down; Sheryl doesn't like dolls and hair and makeup, and she certainly doesn't like boys.
Vicky is a girl's girl. She loves to dress up and doesn't know how to play ball, but she doesn't back down either. Sheryl likes that.
Sheryl's never hung out with girls, preferring to play with the boys and coach the football team. But then Coach Boone came into town and Vicky became—something. Sheryl isn't sure what, enemy-rival-friend-something more. Sister.
Sheryl's heard that sisters talk about weird things grown-ups do. Once she had seen Julius and Gerry doing a weird thing she still doesn't understand. Gerry had had Julius up against the wall and Julius was biting his shoulder but Gerry didn't sound like he hurt and Gerry's hand moving in Julius' jeans, Gerry arching against Julius' thigh and the thick scent of sweat and heat. Sheryl thinks it might have been a new way of fighting, but something in Gerry's eyes when he sees Julius says not.
Two years later Sheryl and Vicky are having a sleepover and giggling together over the boy in Vicky's math class that tried to kiss her. At twelve, Sheryl still thinks boys are useful only for sports. Boys don't try to kiss her, but perhaps the reason for that is because her eyes only soften on Vicky. Her golden curls are more often than not in a messy braid or a baseball cap, and she is the despair of every mother in town.
Neither girl has ever been kissed, and as they laugh over the magazine (which Sheryl would vehemently deny reading if questioned) Vicky says idly that someday she'd like to know what a kiss feels like. Sheryl snorts; she doesn't want to kiss any boy. And Vicky smiles so wide, milk-white teeth in a dark-chocolate face, that Sheryl thinks they might not have to kiss boys.
Vicky is brave, like Sheryl, and that's just another reason Sheryl likes her. So when Vicky leans over and kisses her, Sheryl isn't too surprised. Vicky's mouth is sticky with the lip gloss she'd tried on and Sheryl has forgotten to brush her teeth. Neither of them knows what to do with their noses and their teeth bang together. It's wet and messy and inexperienced, and when they part Sheryl thinks she might be a girl's girl after all. This girl's girl.