Nicole
"Hi, I'm Tommy." He gives me an awkward smile and continued, "I'm 15 and I'm totally into girls." He gives a big laugh. A type of laugh that is so carefree and loose. It makes you want to laugh. He extends his hand, and I go to shake it. "No, I want a high five!" He says. I give him one.
"Hello, it's me," I say, laughing. "No really though, I'm Nicole ." I stop laughing and give back a big, goofy smile. I hear the other girls whispering as Tommy and I chat. I turn towards them. "Whatcha talking about?"
"How are you so… easy with him? Isn't he appalling?" Malibu cringed her nose and covered her mouth to hide our conversation, "You don't have to be nice. If anything it's gross to be like him."
I shake my head in disgust, "I'm appalled by you." I snap. "There's nothing wrong with being different."
"But Nickel…" Coco says. "How can you be like this? I thought you were cool!"
"I am, I mean, as much as I can be." I say shifting my weight from foot to foot. "I just know what it's like, to accept, even people who are different. I know what it's like, because I have to accept myself." I feel my throat well up. "It's hard to accept things if you don't know how to, or don't know what they're going through." I know I have strayed off topic and I turn my head away from the group. A lone tear runs down my cheek and I wipe it off quickly.
The movie flies by.
Time flies by.
I sit next to Tommy in the theater, and I know his knee is resting against mine, but I don't care. I know what the other girls are thinking. I can barely see the outline of him during the movie, but what I can see, I could never tell he was straight. He has shoulder length, bleach blonde hair. It brushes to the side and he has a dainty nose and long lashes. The light reflecting off his face made his eyes a vibrant green.
"No!" The screen cried. I don't even know why I came to this dramatic, boring movie. This isn't me. I'm not like Malibu, Tansy, or Coco. They're the snobs that judge Fae and I used to hate them. Why am i doing this?
Paul.
I'm doing this because of Paul.
My eyes tear up and I feel Tommy's knee press onto mine more, reassuringly. Did he think I was crying because of the movie?
He leans over, "If you're upset about something you should go to the bathroom. They'd probably talking twaddle 'bout you if they saw you crying. It's not even an emotional scene." I feel myself frown, but smile at the same time.
"Thank you." I whisper back, keeping myself from looking at him. Why am I so comfortable with him? Does he remind me of someone? Yes, straight people. They're all the same.
I wipe my eyes and set my hand on the arm rest. He reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I smile at him and he gives me a big, goofy smile in return.
When the movie finishes, we all flock out of the cinema. Tommy walks me to the car and I get in. As the driver drives away, I see him in the rear-view mirror and wave. He can't see because his back is turned to the car, as he hangs his head. He solemnly waits for the bus that is around the corner. I feel bad for ditching him.
The driver drops me off at the house. I get out and walk in.
I see another rat.
I reach for the broom and kill the creature while tears run down my cheeks in thick streams. After I know the rat's dead, I crawl up on the bed in our room. I cry and cry. I keep thinking about me and the future, and then back to me. What's wrong with me. I feel upset and distraught, feel like killing something and I feel bad for killing the rat and… And… The rat was the one who started this and, no, it was all Paul. Why did Linda marry him. He was never any good. I wish my parents never died. I wish they never went to that party and drank, then got in the car and crashed. I reach to touch the scar on my neck. If they wouldn't have crashed with me in the car, I would be fine and I wouldn't have this Goddamn awful life!
My phone rings. Sniffling about a dozen times I crawl off the bed and climb back on just to answer my phone, "What?"
"Nickel?" Hearing Jon I covered my mouth in shock.
"Jon!" I begin to cry again and crawl into the sheets.
"Are you busy?"
"No. I'm never busy." I clung to the piece of metal, treasuring his deep masculine voice.
"Could you meet me at my house, front steps?" His voice shook but maybe he was emotional too.
"Okay. I'll be there in twenty. Is everything okay?"
"I'll see you there." He hangs up and I'm left alone, again. The house echoes the past sounds of torture, sex, my parents arguing. I can hear it all and I can't get it out.
I hurry out of the house and make my way to my best friends home.