I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and stared straight ahead out the windshield. I had been looking at the same tree in the school's parking lot for a few minutes already, mapping out the branches and leaves. It was a good tree. It looked sturdy and healthy as far as I could tell, but then, I wasn't an arborist. Maybe that could be my major in college. Something else I'd been putting off, figuring out what I wanted to study when I got to the university. I had been so preoccupied with getting in that I hadn't thought about what I would do when I got there.
It was now the morning after Kate Monroe had blindsided me by initiating a conversation. She had no idea the stress she had put me through just by acknowledging my existence. The day had started normally for the first ten seconds after I woke up, but then everything from the day before had slammed into my consciousness, and I’d almost tried to fake sick so I didn't have to go to school. But by the time I had thought up a realistic illness, I was already up and out of bed and in the shower. My mind was saying, Stay in bed and pretend you have the whooping cough, but my body was on its own separate track with, Time to start your morning routine, let’s go! Mind over body was a horrible lie.
Eddy had rushed me out of the house, saying that she had a before school meeting she could not miss, so I was out the front door and driving before I knew it. I didn’t think it was safe for me to be driving so much while I was in a mental haze, but the short drive between my house and the high school was so familiar that I was probably okay. Hopefully.
As soon as I’d parked, Eddy had practically jumped out the car, but not before telling me to remember what we had talked about yesterday. I did not want to give her hope by acknowledging her, because as far as I was concerned, all that nonsense yesterday about me not being a good enough lesbian was trash. So she’d left, and that was how I’d ended up alone in my car, staring at trees and contemplating my future as an arborist.
A tap at the passenger-side window had me turning my head to the right, and my body jerked as if all my muscles had decided to spasm at the same time. Kate Monroe was looking in through the window and waving at me. There was no mistake this time, since I was the only one in the car. I stared at her for a few seconds before I was able to give a weak wave back. That must have been a sign for her, since she then opened my door and sat in the seat my sister had just vacated a few minutes ago.
This was surreal. Kate Monroe was in my car. It was just the two of us, alone, in my car in a practically deserted parking lot. Maybe I had gotten into a car crash on the way to school this morning and I was in a coma dreaming all this. At that moment, it seemed just as likely a possibility as actually having Kate Monroe invite herself to sit in my passenger seat.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile. It was crooked on one end. I had to stop noticing stuff like that if I was going to try to talk to her, which it appeared I had to do since she had started talking to me.
“Hi,” I responded. “How’s it going?”
What I really wanted to say was, What in the freak are you doing in my car? You are giving me a heart attack! My chest felt like someone was sitting on it, and I could feel the sweat rolling down my sides underneath my shirt. Weren’t those the classic signs of a heart attack?
I must’ve had a better poker face than I thought, because Kate Monroe kept on talking as if I wouldn’t be needing an AED anytime soon.
“I’m great. I woke up early today and just felt like getting out of the house, so I came to school early with the idea that I’d get some studying in before classes. But I saw you sitting here and decided to come say hi. So, hi,” she said with another wave. It was the most adorable thing I had ever seen another human being do in my entire life.
I tried to smile but my face felt weird, as if I’d forgotten the basic mechanisms of moving my lip muscles up in the right direction. Was I having a stroke now, with paralysis of the face? Kate Monroe was unwittingly becoming hazardous to my health.
She was talking again, saving me from the effort of stringing more than three words together while in her presence. It was good to know she was a benevolent goddess.
“I also wanted to give you back your notes. Thanks for letting me borrow them yesterday,” she said, bending over her backpack slightly and rooting around in it, presumably for the notes. This gave me a few seconds to just watch her perfect profile without seeming like too much of a creeper. Her hair was as nice and shiny as ever.
“No problem,” I whispered. It was all I could manage while Kate Monroe sat next to me, our arms almost touching. Being in such a small space alone made talking with her seem much more intimate than she’d probably intended.
She sat up and turned to face me suddenly. “Got it,” she said triumphantly. She was holding my notebook in her hand, but the only things I could focus on were her eyes. This close, I could tell they weren’t really blue, but more of a green-brown-blue mix. They were the type of eyes that changed color depending on the light or what she was wearing that day. In my car, they were more brown, but I was sure that in the bright sunlight they’d sparkle like the ocean.
I took the notebook. “That’s great,” I said. “I’m glad the notes were useful. Sorry about my handwriting, most of the time no one else can read what I write.”
Without the notebook in her hands, she started playing with her fingers. “It wasn’t that bad. Though it did take me a little bit to figure out what all those arrows meant. You have a unique way of taking notes.”
My smile came a little easier this time. “Yeah, Marie hates when she has to read something that I’ve written down. She says it never makes any sense, but it makes sense to me when I’m writing. I understand better later when there are more than words written down. I’m surprised you were able to decipher my code so fast.”
Kate Monroe's fingers clenched for a second, then stilled. I was mesmerized by every little move she made, but I realized that staring down at her lap could be taken the wrong way. I lifted my eyes up and found she was already looking at me. Actually, she was looking at something right behind me. I turned my head a fraction to try to see if there was anything there, but I couldn’t make anything out.
"So," she started, "Marie's your best friend, right? I've seen you two together a lot, and you seem like you're close."
Not sure if that was a question or not, I started talking. "Yeah, best friends since freshman year. Turns out we both sucked at volleyball, and we ended up bonding over our shared failure. Stuck together ever since."
"Cool," she said. But she said it in a distracted way, like she really wanted to be talking about something else. Maybe she’d had more trouble with the notes than she was letting on and didn't want to admit it? She should not have to worry about failing the next test just because I had lousy handwriting.
"If you need help with history, let me know. Maybe we could have a study session before the next test. Or review anything you're not sure of. I know it can be hard to catch up when you miss a class."
Her eyes got very wide for a second and she took a quick breath, like I had surprised her. I probably had. We hardly knew each other, and here I was inviting her to study together. I could be totally hopeless at history and she wouldn't know. I wasn't totally hopeless, but she didn’t know that.
Before I could either backpedal or try to reassure her that I wasn't trying to sabotage her history grade, she began speaking. "Okay, we can do that, sounds good! How about tonight? At your house?" The imploring look on her face was super cute. There was no way I could turn her down.
"Okay," I replied. I thought quickly about my schedule, trying to remember if Eddy had anything going on tonight, or if both my parents were going to be home. "My place, around six, okay? If you have anything going on, then we could make it later," I said. It was like I was on autopilot and just talking to a regular person and not Kate Monroe. My palms were still really sweaty, though.
A huge smile formed on her face. It was different from the other smiles I had seen from her yesterday. The other smiles had almost had an unstated purpose behind them. This one seemed more natural and not as forced. It was my favorite.
"No, that should be fine," she said. "I have cheer practice after school, but that's usually done before six. I'll just head over your way after.” I could barely contain my nerves as we exchanged information.
Kate Monroe was coming to my house tonight. Maybe in her cheer uniform. This was the luckiest day of my life. I almost could not believe it, but here I was talking with her. Unless I had died and this was all a very elaborate post-death vision, it was very true.
We sat in my car not saying anything for a few seconds. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but a few different thoughts were racing through my mind. One, this was unbelievable. Two, she was so pretty. Three, did I remember to put on deodorant today? Because if I hadn’t, then I had to be a stinking mess with all the sweating I had done already before 8:00 a.m. I must not have smelled too bad if she hadn’t gotten out of the car yet. Why hadn’t she gotten out of the car yet? Was I supposed to say more?
I opened my mouth, but since I couldn’t think of anything to say, a weird creaking noise came out of it. Unfortunately, it was loud enough to get her attention.
“Are you hungry? I think I have a granola bar in my bag.” Before I could politely decline, she was bending over and looking through her backpack again. The back of her shirt rode up just a bit, and I could see the tiniest bit of skin on her lower back. I bet it was really soft.
My hormones were in overdrive. She came back up with a granola bar in her hand. I took it when she handed it to me and managed a “thank you.” It would have been rude to refuse when she had already gone to the trouble to find it for me. But no way was I eating it. I might have already used up most of my luck for a lifetime by just having her talk to me for so long, and I didn't want to increase my odds of choking and dying before tonight. I would save it and admire it for the remainder of time. A token of this one special moment.
I had to get out of this car before I went crazy. If it wasn't already too late.
As if she had read my mind—which would have been the worst thing possible at this second, because then she would’ve known that I was thinking about her in a decidedly nonplatonic way—Kate Monroe grabbed her bag and put her hand on the door handle.
“I guess I’ll get going, then,” she said. “Class is starting in a few minutes.” Before I could finally relax my nerves, she added, “Do you want to walk together, since we are going to the same place?”
"Sure," I said. I had a real hard time saying no to this girl. That might be dangerous in the future.
As I turned and got my own bag from the backseat, my face came within inches of her hair. I couldn't help taking a quick sniff. I didn't know what brand of shampoo she used, but she smelled like vanilla and mint. It was nice. Everything about Kate Monroe was nice.
By the time I twisted back around with my bag, my soon-to-be study partner had opened the passenger door and was getting out of the car. Just in time for me to get a perfect view of her behind as she pushed to her feet. I was a lesbian with a pulse—I had to look. Which I did for about two seconds before I turned away and opened my own door. What a great way to start the morning.
Even though I felt like I was going to throw up at any second.
As we walked out of the parking lot, I noticed a lot more cars than when I’d first pulled up. It must have been later than I’d thought. It was as if the time Kate Monroe and I had spent in my car was outside the regular timestream. I thought we had been talking for just a few minutes, when actually it was probably closer to half an hour.
It was even more nerve-racking walking with Kate Monroe than sitting with her in my car, which was saying a lot. But as we were walking, I couldn’t help glancing around. I could feel other people staring at us. Were they wondering why Kate Monroe would be walking anywhere with me? She was popular, and despite the brief surge in interest in me after I came out, I was invisible. I did not like being the center of any type of attention.
Among the different faces around us, I noticed a very familiar one. Marie was standing by her car, obviously having just gotten out of it. She lived farther from the center of town, in the opposite direction of my house; otherwise we would’ve shared a ride in the mornings. She had definitely spotted us. Her eyes were wide with glee, and I could almost see her bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.
For a second, I had a horrible vision of her skipping over to Kate Monroe and me and gushing about how cute we looked together or asking when our first date was going to be or saying something else equally as embarrassing. Thankfully she remained where she was, though I was sure I would be corned by her at some point and asked about a million questions. But that time wasn't now.
We walked to the front doors, and I panicked for a second over whether I should open the door for her. Was that too forward or weird? Did she know that I was a lesbian? I had assumed that everyone in school knew since I had come out during a class and the gossip had definitely spread, but had it reached the higher levels of the school's social hierarchy that Kate Monroe inhabited?
I had never been so glad to be almost smacked in the face when one of the doors suddenly opened. I barely had enough time to jump back before it hit me. I dimly heard a muttered apology before some freshman skittered away. And then my ears started buzzing, because when I had moved to avoid getting hit by the door, I had accidentally backed up straight into the person behind me.
Who, of course, was Kate Monroe.
My back was flush up against her front, where her decidedly feminine attributes were pressing against me. I instinctively jerked away from her, but not before the feeling of her had imprinted itself on my body and mind. I would think more about that later. Most likely in the privacy of my room, with the door locked.
This time, my luck didn't hold. The door opened again, too fast for me to get out of the way. It collided with the side of my head and knocked me to the side. It really just grazed me, so it didn't hurt, but it was enough contact to make me stumble. I was able to keep to my feet, but I was a little disorientated by how fast everything had happened. As I was trying to steady myself, an arm tightened around my shoulders, bringing me against the body of its owner.
It was, of course, Kate Monroe.
“Holy smokes, Haley, are you okay?” she exclaimed. Had Kate Monroe just said ‘holy smokes’? It was strangely endearing.
I finally got myself together enough to stand fully upright. I was maybe an inch or so shorter than Kate Monroe, so when I stood, her arm slipped down a bit from my shoulders. She now had a firm grip on my upper arm, her body pressed tight against my side as she tried to steady me.
Should I fake a dizzy spell so I could lean further into her? It was so tempting, but the creepiness factor seemed too high to go through with it. So I resisted the temptation and turned to her while also taking a step back. The hardest step I had ever taken.
Her arm slipped from my shoulders, and I thought I saw a flash of disappointment on her face. But most likely my brain, which had just been knocked around in my skull, had made up what I wanted to see—Kate Monroe disappointed by not having me in her arms. Only a brain injury could make that true.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a bit wobbly there. No permanent damage, though,” I said. And because my parents had brought me up right and taught me all about politeness, I added, “And thanks for helping me there. But I’m good. We better get going or we’re going to be late for class.”
Kate Monroe looked like she wanted to protest. But after a few seconds, she just said, “Okay, but if you feel sick or dizzy or anything like that, call 911 to go to the hospital. You might have a concussion, and the school nurse can’t help you with that. Head injuries are no joke.”
I guess I might have looked a little surprised at how serious she was about all of this, because she continued in a more defensive voice. “At cheer camp, they told us about all the temporary and permanent effects of head injuries. It’s not just about getting a headache. There is also dizziness, memory loss, spinal injuries—some real scary stuff. That’s why we make sure there are spotters and that we practice a lot before doing aerials and other high-risk moves. We try to make it as safe as possible.”
“Wow,” I replied. “I had no idea that you do all that at cheer camp. I’ve never met anyone who’s gone to one before.”
She shrugged like it was no big deal. “I have been going since I was a kid. I really like the tumbling and aerial work. I was never good enough to get into gymnastics, but cheerleading lets me do all the fun stuff without the crazy pressure of competitive gymnastics. Plus, I’ve met a lot of interesting people over the years. Some of them have become great friends.”
I made a quick decision to find out as much as I could about her before she came to her senses and realized there were more interesting people to talk to than me.
“What else did you do at cheerleading camp, aside from learning the dangers of the activity you were there to learn and practice?” I asked. A second too late, I realized she might have taken that as if I was making fun of her rather than as the stupid joke I had intended, but her light laugh let me know she wasn’t offended.
“When you put it that way, I can understand how crazy that can seem. They were basically telling us how to do all the dangerous stuff safely, and even the things they told us not to do were so cool we wanted to try. But it was a great way to learn about how other teams worked, and how to make our squad better.” For a second, her face got pink. Whatever she was thinking about seemed to be making her embarrassed. I was curious about what that could be. The more I talked to the girl in front of me, the more I wanted to know about her.
She was talking again after her momentary pause. “I also made some memories that I’ll never forget. You know what they say, what goes on at cheer camp stays at cheer camp.” And then she laughed, like she was making a joke. But all she did was make my mind go straight to the possibilities of what went on at a camp where young, fit, mostly female campers spent their days manipulating their bodies in close proximity to each other. For a teenage lesbian, those possibilities were endless.