For some reason, being Bi-sexual has always been out of the question. No one ever asks if you’re bi or anything, it’s always gay or lesbian, and I have no idea why. “Are you gay?” Shane asked in a whisper, leaning over from his desk. “No.” I said blankly and stared straight ahead at the bored, watching Mrs. Lawler write ‘passive, aggressive’ and something else that I couldn’t quite read. My glasses had gotten too blurry. I needed a new prescription but the dumb ass insurance company said we can’t get another pair until November or December. Retards. Shane doesn’t believe my answer, though. Considering he asks me almost every day in Asset Development is proof. But I’m not lying. On the outside I purse my lips in a slight frown and stare at the board like I’m paying attention but inside my head, I’m smirking and shaking my head, watching a demonic cabbage monster eat Shane’s head off. It’s always the loud and popular kids that want to know if you’re gay, the ones that say they won’t tell anyone and if you do they tell the whole school.
What’s amusing, though, is that they actually expect you to respond honestly and say yes. And that they never ask if you’re bi. So when they do ask, “Are you gay?” you’re not lying when you say no.
I bring this up in our GSA later (for the idiots who don’t know what a GSA is, it’s a Gay Straight Alliance club) and the whole group agrees with me. Of course, we’re all basically friends, so maybe we just use the club as a reason to get away from everyone. There’s Ian, the girly gay, the one where it’s totally obvious. He wears fit girl’s pants so his bulge nearly shows and small South Pole Hoodies and pink skin-tight girl shirts with care bears on them, plus the thick pink rimmed glasses, short blond hair to match, plus black and hot pink nail polish. So, in a way, he’s more like emo/girly. He’s my best friend.
There’s Alicia, too, the overly bubbly lesbian whose boobs are too big for her shirt and long flowing brown hair that falls to her petite waist. Hell, if she’d let me, I’d tap that. She’d been voted ‘Most Social’ and ‘Best Smile’ since freshman year.
Janna Leslie, the manly lesbian, the one who smokes a fuckin’ carton of cigs a day. It’s disgusting. She’ll die of lung cancer in less than 5 years. But that doesn’t matter to her. She was dumped in an orphanage because her parents were only 14 when she was conceived. They didn’t want her, and she was fostered into a strict Christian family. They disowned her. She currently lives with her friend Amanda. Janna snaps her gum loudly.
Carson, next, the only straight one here. He’s not really our friend. He cringes when we talk about sex and crap like that. It’s funny, the new kid not having anyone else to hang out with so he joins the GSA. Carson’s more like a plastic flower, there for decoration, there to sit and look pretty. Fix his crooked nose and he’d look pretty, anyways.
Then there’s me. Nothing special, the punk catholic kid whose friends with the atheist girly gay boy. A peculiar pair they say. My best friend used to be Steve in 3rd grade. Then we were separated in 4th grade, then 5th, then 6th, and 7th, and 8th, and it continued. We’re in 10th grade now, Juniors, and on totally different paths of life. Steve hangs out with the German Exchange Students, and wants to be a voice actor or a comedian. He’s good at making people laugh. I sweat and stutter a lot in front of huge crowds. I puked one time when I tried to read my poem aloud in ELA. I want to be a poet. I’m good with a paper and pencil. With words, no, I make word vomit.
Carson brings up the topic of gay marriage again, but that’s old shit. It’s not gonna happen. Our government’s a homophobic piece of crap. It’s like segregation, almost. Our teachers say it’ll happen some day, wearing their fake plastic smiles. They say it’s possible. I’m waiting for the next Holocaust. Wonder if I’ll survive or throw myself against an electric fence.
While contemplating this theory, Ian asks if anyone watched America’s Next Top Model last night. Alicia squeals and raises her hand excitedly, Carson mutters something like “My sister was watching it…” and Janna and I just stare at the wall like flies to a cake. We have our own little worlds. Each teenager does. It’s how we manage to survive. No parents, no cliques, no prejudices, just us and our little paradise in our minds.