Franky Fitzgerald had never been normal. This had occurred to her several moments throughout her life, and each time she had acknowledged it with a sense of fatigue. Was it normal to know that you weren't?
When she was fourteen, Franky decided that she needed to look different. The foster parents she had then were rather generous in all things material – matters of the heart, however, were something else entirely.
If she didn't know who she was, how could she show the rest of the world? So her new clothes were omniscient; enigmatic. Block colours: black, red, sometimes white. Tight jeans (they made her look like a boy) and loose cardigans (she didn't like the new breasts that had sprouted.) She opted for plain old Converse, which were quickly graffiti'd in a whirlwind of lonely school hours and familial disputes.
When she was fifteen, she discovered bowties and creeper shoes. She discovered that wearing tartan shirts either made you look like a) a lesbian, or b) a boy, which meant that c) people generally tended to leave you alone, for some reason. Franky chopped off all her hair. She didn't like mirrors.
Here's a bit of news: if you look differently from everyone else, people think you've got it all figured out – you are a person who knows who you are. If you dress strangely, you're daring and courageous. But if you look anything other than normal...
The bullying was something Franky could never get used to. No matter how many times she hurt, it never got easier. Why did people hate her so much? Why did they hate who she was?
When no one likes you, it is very difficult to figure out why you should.
At sixteen, Franky didn't know anymore than she did at fourteen, or fifteen. Oh, she knew that if you duck down the end aisle in the library, right next to Shakespeare, you're safe from the world for at least one more lesson. She knew that listening to really loud and really weird music fended off those with happier lives. She knew that liking boys made you fit in, if only a little.
Moving to Roundview College was a bittersweet moment. For the first time in a long while, she was a little excited: maybe things would be different here. Maybe kids were different down here in the south.
When not a thing changes, you do what you've always done: nothing.
That's all Franky ever did. Nothing.
Mini McGuiness knew at age eleven she was going to marry either a professional dancer or a fashion designer. The former was due to a brief obsession with muscle-y, tanned young men; the latter because she loved clothes, and even if her husband were gay she wouldn't mind – but only if he designed his fall collection in her honour or something.
At sixteen, Mini had the word feminine wiles underlined and highlighted. Her dresses were tight enough to show she was a girl – woman – but loose enough to show that she was a lady, thank you very much. Mini didn't go a bundle on parties (everyone got so drunk) but Liv - who was her best friend for a reason that had escaped her long ago - was always the one who helped her just let go and have fun. Sometimes Mini thought it was more difficult being an adult than it was all made out to be.
When Mini first clapped her eyes on Franky, even she couldn't stop the jolt of interest that snapped through her like lightning. Miss Fitzgerald was unique – she reminded Mini of a deer that was just learning to walk.
But Franky wasn't a doe; she had a hidden strength that reminded Mini more of a buck.
"So are you one of those bisexuals?" The question escaped Mini before she could stop herself. Franky's startled eyes blinked a few times before the usual facade fell back into place.
"No. I'm just... into people."
Franky and Mini were too good together for it to be coincidence. At least, that's what Franky liked to think. Their friendship, although still rocky and a little confused, grew every time they spent together. Sometimes Mini would just loose herself in their company, teasing Franky and pulling faces and laughing with her perfect white teeth. Those were the moments Franky cherished. Those were the moments when the real Mini came out of hiding.
It started with something so simple. A few weeks after Alo and Grace's wedding, a few weeks after hearing nothing from Matty, after school had finished and the summer stretched endlessly before her, and Mini had called Franky. Nothing big, nothing flashy. Just a quick 'do you want to get together sometime' and that was that.
On the other end of the line, Mini pretended she was asking Franky out on a date.
Franky pretended her heart hadn't faltered at Mini's sweet voice.
Their fingers would brush over the sugar packets. Their smiles lingered for too long. Franky shivered at their closeness, and Mini would deliberately step nearer.
"Do you like me, Mini?" Do you fancy me, love me, want me, Mini?
The girl in question looked at Franky for a very long time. Afternoon sunlight streamed through her hair, igniting the gold and setting Mini's eyes on fire. Her plump red mouth turned up a little at the corners, and her eyebrows relaxed. Instead of answering, Mini kissed her. She kissed her softly, eyelashes tickling and hands intertwining.
Franky kissed back just as lovely, and afterwards, very hard.
She doesn't know if it's temporary or not. She doesn't know if the other will kiss back or turn away. They balance on nothing but their dreams and the electric currents that warm their skin. She wants the other so badly, that the words tumble together in a hurry and it only a takes a moment before eyes open and they look at each other in surprise.
Mini smiles first, eyes crinkling, and Franky grins. They move closer and whisper the words again, feeling punctured by kisses and caresses. I love you. I love you.