"KAYLA!" My mom shouted for the umpteenth time. She shoved the door open with much difficulty, sweeping aside a giant mountain of clothes. She stared in horror at the messy room before she broke into a smile. "Kayla, it's ten o'clock."
"Two more hours." Beth murmured, pushing the shirt off her face and rolling away from the sunlight that poured into the room.
"Ten is way too early, mom." I groaned, rolling over of my bed. I pulled a pillow over my face and groaned again as she pulled the curtains open on one of the windows.
"Ten is not too early," She disagreed, opening the other curtain. "Is that Alex?"
"That's me!" Alex raised her hand from the gigantic mound of clothing.
"You girls are too funny," My mom laughed. "I was afraid she wouldn't have anymore friends like you after she came out-,"
"MOM!" I screamed, jumping off the bed and shoving her out the door. "Why don't you go downstairs and start breakfast or something! Be down in a few, bye!" I slammed the door shut and pressed myself against it, making sure she left.
Jordyn jolted upright, flinging a pair of shorts off her shoulder. She look grumpily at me. "What's with all the screaming?"
"Jesus, Kay," Alex said, rubbing her eyes. "Where's the fire?"
"What was that about?" Beth asked, stretching out. "'After you came out?' What's that mean?"
"It's nothing." I said quickly, which was probably a bad idea. They all looked at me like I'd changed color overnight.
"You're a bad liar, you know that, right?" Jordyn yawned, stretching her arms above her head.
"I'm not lying." I said quickly and bit my lip.
"You are too," Alex fell back onto the floor, her knees bent in the air. "You always talk fast when you're lying."
Damn, maybe I'm not as sneaky as I used to think. "It's nothing, really."
"Yeah, right," Beth said. "That's why you're hiding from us. C'mon, Kay, we always share secrets."
I looked from each of their faces to the next. These were the people I'd trusted after my other friends had abandoned me. These were the people who'd trusted me for the past three years, and vice versa. I swallowed hard, still ambivalent about weather or not I could share this with them. They all looked hopeful, and it just crushed my spirit.
"You swear not to tell anyone?"
They all nodded, their faces all suddenly serious looking. They inched closer, as if they feared as much as I did someone else would hear.
"Okay, so back in like freshman year or something like that," I began, taking a deep breathe. "I told my parents I was gay so they wouldn't pressure me into telling them about boys I liked. I figured that if I told them that, I could date whoever I want." I flinched, as if one of them would hit me.
They were all silent, their brows furrowed in thought. Beth raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"Holy crap, you're a genius." She smiled.
They all laughed. I felt myself force out small, nervous, fake laughs. My lips curled nervously.
"Really, though." Beth said between laughs. "Honestly, do you think parents would ever be comfortable asking about your girlfriend?"
"How did you manage to make them let you play on the soccer team?" Alex asked.
"I told them all the girls on the team were ugly . . . no offense, guys." We all laughed.
"Well, as long as you feed me, you can insult me all you want." Alex said, getting to her feet. We all laughed again.
The cool, night air was twinged with dew. Orange flames licked hungrily as heat emanated from the blazing fire. Hundreds of students were crowded around it. The grass of the field beneath was slippery, but nobody cared. The crowd was buzzing with life as the band on stage was preparing for their show. The lead singer, guitar strapped over their shoulder, stepped up to the microphone.
"Testing, testing,
1, 2, 3, 4!
You've got me poppin' champagne.
I'm at it again.
Caught up in a moment, but not in the right way.
I'm falling in between, tearing up at the seams.
We're just aiming to please, and aesthetics don't hurt one bit!"
Luke and I were standing at the edge of the crowd, watching the flames dance before our eyes. I had worn a cute top, but you couldn't see it under his leather football jacket. He had one arm around my shoulders, which was supposedly keeping me 'warm'. How cheesy. He was wearing a black long sleeve and a pair of jeans.
"I'm really glad you decided to come with me," Luke said. "I was really afraid you were going to say no." He gave a nervous laugh that made me smile.
"I'd never say that to you," I said.
"Well, it's just . . . I've liked you for a really long time." He admitted, keeping his focus on the fire. "And . . . I don't think I would've known how to react if you rejected me."
"Would you have cried?" I joked.
"No!" He smiled, speaking in a fake, deeper voice. "Men don't cry!"
I laughed, even though his impression was horrible. We were silent for a moment, listening to the music of the band. It was upbeat and lifting. Just watching the dark silhouettes of the band jumping around in the shadows, I could tell they were really enjoying themselves.
"So follow me down.
Take this all the way, anyway you want to!
Why don't you say so?
I think I'm caught in between.
The night and days fly by when I'm lost on the streets.
And my eyes, they despise you for who I am.
(Why don't you say so? Why don't you say so?)
Give up and let go. I'm just a boy with a dream.
And you can take one look as I fall in between.
With my eyes just as wide as my mouth can be.
(Why don't you say so? Why don't you say so!)"
"They're really good." I said. I really thought they were. Their voices and instruments were so full of energy.
"Maybe if they played some good music." Luke said, his voice confident and cocky. "This stuff stinks." He picked up his half full water bottle, weighing it in his hands. "Hey! Why don't you play something here people like!" He threw the water bottle as hard as he could towards the dark shadows.
The feedback blasted through the darkness. Voices scrambled as a low groan echoed over the field. Voices faded in and out over the microphone. One voice was groggy and disoriented, but filled with rage, while the other was soothing and calm.
"Is the . . . okay . . .?" The static interrupted the speech.
"Is . . . what . . . okay?"
"I asked if the guitar was okay!" The anger filled voice echoed loudly.
"It's fine!" The calm voice said. "Relax. You got hit pretty hard."
"Alright you jock asshole!" The anger filled voice shouted. A shadow leaped off the stage and was headed towards the fire. It was headed right for Luke and I. "Come here so I can smash that pretty boy face of your's!"
"What'd you say to me you little punk!" Luke strode across the field, heading towards the shadow. "We'll see who's going to be smashing who's face when I come over there!"
"Luke!" I said, scrambling to my feet and catching up to him. I grabbed his arm, but he didn't stop moving forward. "What are you doing?"
"He's doing what all High School football players do!" The shadow shouted, pushing forward, the light almost illuminating their face. "Acting like complete fuck heads! You're the only ones on the fucking planet, right!"
"I'll kill you, you little bastard!" Luke lunged forward.
"Little!" The shadow shouted. Others were converging around it. "I'm taller than you, stupid!"
"Woah!" The calm voice said as a shadow darted forward. The fire illuminated angry, icy eyes and jet black hair. "Blake, relax!" A boy with light blue eyes and blonde hair said as he held the angered teen by the arms with the help of four others. "Just let him go!"
"Blake!" I said, pushing past Luke and stepping forward.
Blake's eyes went wide as she saw me. Her tanned skin looked pale in the combined moonlight and firelight, a single, bright crimson streak tricking down her temple. She looked at the ground, trying to hide it, and pulled free from the others. She stalked off into the shadows, hands in her pockets and mumbling angrily under her breathe.
"Slater." Luke said, nodding at the blonde boy. "Tell your sister to watch her step."
"Luke." The boy, Slater, regarded him shakily. "In all defense, you did hit her with a water bottle . . ."
"Was that blood!" I asked, stunned. I watched the spot where Blake had disappeared. I didn't wait for an answer and began to walk in the direction she'd left. Luke was shouting something at me, but I didn't hear him. "Blake?" I asked softly.
"What?" The exasperated answer came from behind. Blake was sitting on the corner of the stage, a pool of red in her hands where she'd dabbed at her forehead. A medical kit was at her side, open and the other hand leafing through it angrily.
"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" I asked, hurrying over to her. I swatted her hand away and took out the gauze she'd been looking for.
"Do I look okay?" She asked, slightly angry. She winced as I dabbed the cut clean and placed a butterfly over it. "God damned people . . ." She mumbled angrily, feeling the butterfly for herself.
"I can't believe he'd do that." I said. "He's usually such a sweet guy. I'm so sorry. But, really Blake, bleeding from a water bottle?"
"It wasn't the bottle!" Blake countered. "I avoided the bottle, but I didn't expect the guitar to jump up and hit me in the face!" Her eyes narrowed. They were the burning brightly in the darkness. "And he's not a 'sweet guy'." She put quotations around the last two words. "We may not be friends, Kayla, but you've got to know that he's a total-,"
"How could you say that?" I asked incredulously.
"It's the truth, he's a-,"
"Not about Luke!" I cut her off. "We're not friends?"
"I didn't think so . . ." She paused. "But if we are, then I'm definitely going to tell you that Luke Grayson isn't sweet in any way, shape, or form. Maybe he acts that way around you, but he's a total jerk asshole to everyone else."
"You don't have to like him," I said quietly. "But you don't have any reason to believe that."
"Believe what you want." Blake said, pushing my hand away. "But I'll believe what I know." She picked her head up and looked around. "I have to go."
"Wait," I put my hand on her arm, which she promptly brushed off. "Please stay. I could -,"
"I can't stay." Blake said. "Early morning practice tomorrow at The Warehouse. Sorry, Kayla." She hopped off the stage and disappeared into the shadows, her hands shoved in her pockets and shoulders raised to fend off the icy chill.
Okay, so maybe it was only me who felt the icy chill, but it was only from the cold shoulder Blake had practically pounded me with.
F.Y.I. The song if Poppin' Champagne by All Time Low. I don't own the song or anything.
