High School

High School

The day she walked into high school I stopped and stared.

Her name was Malika. She strutted around like she was the most important thing that ever walked the earth. She had honey for hair and caramel for skin. And she probably tasted just as sweet.

That was the first thing I thought when I saw her.  I gawked at her full lips. She gave me these cold icy blue eyes. I literally felt those eyes freeze my blood.

I watched her walk toward me. Her hips swayed like a belly dancer. She was a ball of fucking sunshine. The sarcastic kind. I remember wanting her. I just didn’t realize it at the time.

“I’m Malika,” She said. Her voice was harsh but that didn’t deter from how hot she was. “You can call me Lika.”

“I’m Florence,” I mumbled back at her.

“You’re pretty cute Florence,” she winked and walked away.

I was 16. I should have been old enough to know that there were homosexual couples. I should have even had a gay friend or two. But I never met anyone who was gay. I never even saw two boys or girls hold hands. I was sheltered.

Every book I bought was screened for language (yet I have the mouth of a sailor). Every movie I saw was pre-watched for sexual content. And there was never any talk of anything unconventional or controversial in the house. My parents tried to act like “bad” things didn’t exist. I never even got the sex talk. I had to learn from my older sister.

Anyways. My household was certainly not the place where I would hear about these people. And in my school, it was no better. Everyone was raised like me. You’d think it wouldn’t be that way in modern day. I mean, it’s the 21^st century. People should know more. But I may as well have lived in the Victorian era.

So when this new girl came in, everyone was put a little bit off by her. Lika wasn’t necessarily out. But everyone knew she was different. I’m not saying that you can look at a person and tell that they’re gay. But when a girl is flirting with you, that probably says something (if you’re a girl, anyways).

The next few weeks, Lika would show up at my locker. She’d ask me about my day or tell me a story from English class. I would smile and listen to her. I figured she needed a friend and I was glad to help her with that. In a school where everyone knew each other since kindergarten, it’s hard to be the new girl. Besides, she scared me a bit.

After Lika had been around for a few months, we started hanging out. She told me all about her old school and her old friends. They were having some party. I’d never been to a party and certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to go. With the parents I had, you couldn’t do much.

So, I lied. Naturally. I’m a fairly good liar. It’s a gift that occasionally goes bad. I mean, I stared at girls for three years before it sunk in that I should think about that.

I’m getting sidetracked. I packed up things to spend the night at Lika’s and we went to this party. That was when things got a little topsy-turvey.