Not gay

by Come-Along-Williams

It's funny how people are so quick to judge, isn't it. They seem to want to insist on my being gay. But I'm not. Bi, maybe, but not gay. Because the truth is, I'm in love. With my sister. Rypay. Don't like it? Then don't read.

They all think that I'm gay. They'd never actually say it to my face, oh no, because they knew that my sister would beat them up. No one crossed Sharpay Evans, and no one dared to cross her brother. On the surface, I seemed that I was safe.

But wherever I went throughout the school, as soon as the crowd saw me, the corridors would come alive with whisperings, rumours and speculation.

Although no one ever dared say it outright to my face, I could always hear murmurings of gay, fag, fairy, pansy, and homo bouncing off the lockers and the walls of our pristine school.

Not that I cared.

Yeah, it hurt a bit to hear so many people jump to conclusions.

So what if I love to wear colorful shirts and funky hats? It doesn't make me gay – it just means I have great fashion sense.

And the fact that they seemed to parallel my love for singing and dancing with being gay always brought a rueful smile to my lips.

But deep down, I knew their words couldn't do me any harm.

Because even if no one else wanted to know that I wasn't gay, Sharpay and I both knew that I wasn't gay.

Not that I had a problem with being gay. I'd kiss a boy if necessary. I'd done it before, and found it quite fun.

So maybe I was bi. But still, I wasn't gay.

Because the truth was, that I was in love.

With a girl.

With my sister.

I was in love with Sharpay.