This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. In case it's not obvious, Mom refers to Arizona and Mami refers to Callie.

Trigger warning: This fanfiction will tackle the subject of sexual assault, albeit not graphically.

As I step out of the rental Chevrolet Tahoe, a gush of wind nearly causes me to topple backwards into the concrete. I right myself and look around in all directions, stunned by the beautiful neo-Gothic architecture of the residence halls. Even though it's the middle of summer, the warm chestnut and striking gray hues of the buildings surrounding the quad in the middle of Old Campus makes me feel the familiar excitement of the beginning of fall, the sharp sense that anything and everything possible, closely within reach.

"I love it." I proclaim.

Mami shakes her head and laughs. "We've been here all of two minutes. You haven't even been on the tour yet."

I shrug and can't stop a smile from spreading across my face. "Look how beautiful the campus is! This is exactly what college is supposed to look like."

Mom pats me on the back. "She's right," she says, smirking at Mami. They lean in for a quick kiss. I throw my hand over my eyes and fake-gag.

"Okay, ew! No PDA." I say. Mom and Mami kiss again in response. I roll my eyes, grab Zola by the arm, and start walking towards High Street.

We quickly get into a discussion about the academic opportunities here at Yale. "They have a History of Science, Medicine, and Public Health major!" I exclaim. "I don't know how I'd be able to decide between that and Cognitive Science."

"I'm leaning towards the Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology major." Zola says. I nod.

"That's totally you. You're definitely following in your dad's footsteps." I remark. Zola has wanted to become a neurosurgeon since she was like 5. When we would get together to play as children, we ended up ripping the arms off of Barbies and cutting into stuffed animals more often than not. Perks of being the children of surgeons, I guess.

She grins. "Okay, but neurosurgery is totally cool!" I nod in agreement as Derek comes up from behind her and pats her on the back.

"You're my favorite kid," he jokes. Meredith lightly slaps him in the shoulder.

"Derek!" She says. We all start laughing.

Mami pointedly looks at me. "I can't get Sofia to even consider ortho. She says it's gross."

I shrug and smirk. "It is. Who wants to break bones for a living?" I pretend to shudder. "Peds is way cooler," I joke.

Mom tilts her head at Mami. "Isn't that right, Callie?" Mom gives Mami an innocent smile. Mami glares back at her.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Arizona. Ortho is way more bad-ass than peds, and you know it."

"Alright guys," I say, putting both hands up. "Let's have this discussion later. You know it can get pretty heated, and we have an information session to get to."

They both grin and we head towards the Office of Undergraduate Admissions. As we sit through the information session, both Zola and I sit at the edge of our seats. The walking tour takes about an hour and a half, but it feels like the time flies by as we walk through beautiful grassy quads flanked by towering buildings that command attention and respect with their history and their purpose.

After the tour, Zola and I both look through the T-shirts at the Student store. "You will know where you're going to school next May." Derek remarks. "That means if you don't go to Yale you can only wear those shirts for like 9 months."

Meredith rolls her eyes. "Let them buy the damn T-shirts, Derek." Derek shrugs. Zola rolls her eyes at him and we head to the cash register. Once we're done, we pile in the Tahoe and begin the hour-long drive to the hotel beside the Hartford airport. Our week and a half long college tour is over and we're heading back to Seattle early tomorrow morning.

"So, which college was your favorite?" Mom asks us.

"Harvard," Zola says. "Without a doubt. I loved Johns Hopkins and Yale too. But I really did like all of them though."

I nod. "They are all definitely wonderful schools. But if it wasn't obvious, I really love Yale. Plus, it has a division 1 gymnastics team, so that's a bonus."

Zola fakes shock. "You like Yale? I had no idea! It's not like you haven't been constantly talking about it for the past couple hours!"

I roll my eyes. That would have been a rude response if it were anyone else, but Zola and I are practically sisters, and I am very familiar with her abundant sense of sarcasm that she inherited from her Aunt Amelia.

"Okay, so I'm a little excited," I admit.

"A lot." Mom says under her breath.

"Mom!" I say. She gives me a guilty smile.

"Kidding," she says. "You know your enthusiasm is my favorite thing about you."

Now she's getting all gushy and sappy in front of 4 other people. I mean, granted, in front of my other Mom and my closest friend and her parents, but still. "Alright, alright Mom. I know."

We wake up the next morning at 4 to get ready for our 7 a.m. flight. I'm used to waking up early for gymnastics competitions, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. I'm basically a zombie until I'm able to grab some iced coffee and from the Starbucks in the airport. Zola gets a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream even though it's the middle of summer, like she always does.

We arrive at the terminal an hour early. "So, why did we have to get up so early again?" I ask. Mami just rolls her eyes at me. There's a bookstore right across from where we're sitting, so I decide to go check it out with Mom and Mami.

I check out the books in the nonfiction section while Mom and Mami check out the popular fiction. I'm reading the inside cover of a memoir by a physicist when I hear a kid say to his mother, "Why are those ladies holding hands?"

I look up from my book and turn my head. A blonde-headed boy and his graying mother are standing behind Mom and Mami, facing their backs. The mom's lips are pursed in a straight, pink line. Almost instinctively, my hands ball up into fists.

"They shouldn't be," she tells the boy. He looks up at her with wide blue eyes. "It's a sin."

Mami looks around at her and glares. She begins to say something, but Mom puts her hand on Mami's shoulder to stop her.

"Like lying?" He asks.

"Much worse," she states, condescension dripping from her voice. It feels like fire is spreading through my belly, lighting up my organs from the inside out.

I walk towards my moms, traveling directly in front of the mom and kid. I pointedly look at her and then say, "hey Mom and Mami, I think we should go."

I'm still seething when I sit down by Zola in the terminal.

"I hate people." I say.

"What happened?" Alarmed, she looks at the adults.

Mami shrugs. "Homophobes."

"Oh," Zola says.

Meredith shakes her head. "People are stupid. I'm sorry, guys."

Mom smiles, showing her dimples. "We're used to it. People always have a reaction." She looks at me, slumped in my seat with my arms crossed in front of my chest. "I appreciate your support, darling, but cheer up."

With her happy-go-lucky attitude and her sharp sense of humor, Mom is great at diffusing uncomfortable situations. The tension and frustration quickly evaporates. Soon, we begin to board. Zola's mildly afraid of heights, so she always lets me have the window seat when traveling. As the plane takes off and we fly through the patches of clouds, I imagine myself floating in the air, free and unburdened, until I fall asleep with my cheek pressed against the glass.