ELEVEN

♥ Lucille ♥

The door closes with a slam when I kick it. I collapse to the floor. I am very out of breath.

"You good?" Kiara asks across the room.

"No. I'm dying."

"Ah."

The goddamn elevator was broken again. How the hell does this keep happening? I took the stairs up two floors to the dorm, then I realized I was an idiot and forgot my suitcase. So, I went back downstairs and to the parking lot to get it.

Then I walked up the stairs again, only to realize I forgot my damn keycard in my car. I knocked on the door to see if Kiara would let me in. She did not.

I left the suitcase and my bag in the hall because who gives a shit, and ran back down the steps again, only to realize my car keys had been left in my bag upstairs. Thankfully, I was only half way down the steps at that point. I went back up, grabbed the keys, rushed out to my car, grabbed my keycard from where I had—for some reason—left it in the center cupholder.

I made it back upstairs and got in myself, but my god. That was worse than the pacer test. So much worse.

"Why didn't you let me in?" I ask the rat as I stand back up.

She just furrows her brows. "Did you knock?"

"Yeah, like a few minutes ago."

"Oh. I was just in the shower." She admits.

"So you were." I sigh heavily. It's a little past noon. I left my parent's place around ten. The traffic wasn't as bad as the drive up, thankfully.

I drag my suitcase over to my closet, unzipping it and unpacking everything. I already washed the clothes I wore yesterday in the laundry at my parent's house.

When I'm done with that, it dawns on me that I should probably tell Kiara about the call with her mother... Yikes.

She's in the kitchen, making herself a grilled cheese now. I walk over, leaning against the counter beside her.

"Your mother did call me..." I admit.

I notice Kiara tensing slightly, nodding stiffly. "She said she would... So..."

"I answered it." I feel guilty. Whatever she has going on with her mom is clearly none of my business. And I know some things I probably shouldn't know. Like how her mother just casually mentioned her running away as a teen, or her alleged temper issues. Not that I've observed any.

Kiara is quiet for a moment, not looking away from the pan. I can't tell if she's mad. "What did you... No. What did she say?"

"She asked if you were behaving... I said yeah because I got bad vibes and I wasn't about to sell you out... But yeah." I don't mention anything else she told me. I don't think she'd be comfortable with knowing I heard any of it.

Kiara sighs and doesn't speak again, flipping her grilled cheese over.

I hesitate for just one second, then ask the most basic question of all, "Are you okay?"

"Mhm... I'm just not exactly fond of my mother... She's just..." She trails off, finding the words. "She is very controlling, I guess."

She provides no further explanation, so I don't ask. I know how to be decent when I want to be. I nod my head, though I'm not sure if she notices. She still hasn't looked up.

"Can you pass me a plate?" She asks, turning her head to look at me for just a second. Her long hair moving away from her face for a moment.

"Yeah," I grab a plate from the cabinet behind me, passing it over to her. She places her grilled cheese onto it and then gives the plate back to me. "You can have this one if you want... I'll make another for myself." She's facing me again, but her eyes don't meet mine. I can't tell if she's embarrassed or nervous. Both are plausible.

"You sure? I may suck at cooking but I think I can make my own grilled cheese." I take the plate though.

"Saying you think is answer enough that you don't actually know how. Plus, I made that one for you. Browned it so it's crunchy like you like it..."

I'm surprised she knows how I like my grilled cheeses. And then I wonder how the fuck she knows the way I like my grilled cheeses. "How do you know that..?" I ask hesitantly.

"Oh!" Her eyes seem to widen like she's been caught. And she has been. The fuck? "Uh, okay so this is kind of weird but my friend Deven—I saw them yesterday, I stayed at their house—they work at that cafe not far from here and they said they saw you while on shift... Said you've ordered a grilled cheese like that three times in the past few weeks..."

"Your friends know about me?" This is very surprising to me. "Don't you hate me?"

"Well... Yeah." She admits. "I don't hate you, but you're still relevant enough in my life for me to talk about you so..." She fidgets with the metal black ring on her finger.

"I see..." I'm not even sure what to say. Why would her friend tell her this anyway? I mean, it's true. This sandwich looks fucking perfect to me, but there is no denying that it's weird and creepy.

I sit down at the table and take a bite. There's a slight crunch. And my god, it's fucking perfect. The bread is perfectly cooked, the cheese stretchy. My mom would be in actual tears.

She's being nice to me. And clearly she's going through something. Maybe I should be decent to her too... I don't think I could handle going through the rest of this year like we have been.

"So, what were you up to yesterday?" I ask as she eventually sits down with her own grilled cheese. It's more golden than mine.

"Like I said, I hung out with Deven. Stayed the night." She shrugs. "Uh, you?"

I feel like I shouldn't tell her how much fun I had and how great my parents are. I don't want her to feel bad. "I just went out to dinner with my family. It wasn't bad. I also just generally spent some time with my sister."

She nods, swallowing her bite. "Are you okay?" She asks.

"Yeah, why?" I mean it genuinely. I'm doing just fine right now.

"You're being... Nice... Sorry, that sounded bitchy..."

Dammit she caught on already. "I'm okay... I just didn't feel like whining right now." I stand, bringing my plate over to the sink.

She follows too, having finished her sandwich as well. "Oh. Good. You do get very annoying sometimes."

"Asshole!" I'm tempted to hit her in the arm, but I stop myself. I don't think we're at that level in any way yet. Also, what if her mother was physically abusive? That would just be wrong of me.

"I'm kidding, princess. Well, I'm not. Your whining can get irritating, but I don't really mind." She shrugs.

"Don't call me princess." I say, expressionless. I will not give any reaction to her obvious teasing.

"But you're supposed to be Princess Bubblegum! Though, your hair has faded a little too much for that..." She considers. And then she ruffles my hair.

She ruffles my goddamn hair.

She seems to catch herself, quickly pulling her hand back and practically jumping away from me. "I... Uh. Sorry." Then she goes to the bathroom. I'm still frozen in place as I hear the bathroom's lock click.

What in the hell was that?

♥♥♥

Claire just texted me. I was just doing some homework on my laptop after dinner and then I heard the ping.

It was at that moment I realized we haven't talked in three whole weeks. We used to talk daily. Hourly, even.

I read the message, "Dude are you alive? We haven't talked in weeks!!! College fucking sucks. I might drop out idk. I'm already planning on working at my dad's company so what's the point??? Everyone is so annoying and my classes are miserable. I'm failing just for not doing homework, like the fuck?"

As I'm reading through it, she sends a follow up message. "I miss you Luciiiiii!!! Also I have a boyfriend lol. How about you? Any luck w/ boys?"

Claire and I have been best friends since elementary school, but we've basically known each other since birth. My mom was best friends with her dad, so we were all close. Unfortunately, she has some flaws...

The biggest one—at least to me—is that she is homophobic. Her parents are too. It created a rift when I first came out to my family. I told Claire next, who then told her parents. Her parents assumed my parents didn't know and told them. If I hadn't already come out, they would've outed me. I didn't think it was that big a deal at the time because I wasn't hurt by it, but looking back it was definitely messed up.

My mom didn't speak to her dad for a while, but they moved on eventually. Thankfully.

Claire also just pretended like it never happened. Like I never came out. She's really great, but like I said, she has her flaws.

I type back a response. "Nah, no boys; I miss you too; congrats on your boyfriend; sorry your classes suck; you should try doing homework. Love you <3"

I don't get a response. Or even see that she's read it, but oh well.

It'd quiet in the dorm. I can hear the AC and the typing of the keys on Kiara's laptop. She has headphones in. I'm curious as to what she listens to. She already has that Cavetown poster which is pretty cool.

"Kiara." I turn with my chair as I attempt to grab her attention.

She finishes typing whatever she had been, then turns around, lifting the bulky headphones off one ear. "What?"

"Whatcha' listening to?"

"Uh, Fentanyl by McCafferty. Disregard the song's name, it's actually pretty deep." She says, turning back around.

I nod. Never heard the song nor band, but I can trust her judgment. From Cavetown to Adventure Time, she seems to have good taste considering what I've observed thus far.

I wonder if I should tell her about my sexuality. I'm pretty sure she is at the very least an ally, but is there really a point bringing it up? I mean, if I end up getting a girlfriend then I'm sure I'll mention it to her at some point. Or if she becomes my—WOAH. What the fuck was that?

Something is very wrong with my mind. I just considered a future where I'd date Kiara. That would be miserable.

Well, I could see myself with someone like her... You know, funny in a stupid way, kind of dorky and awkward yet at the same time super cool. She actually had good fashion taste too. But I don't want to date her.

Also she's probably gonna marry some super hot guy and get an amazing paying job as a... I realize I don't even know her major. I should ask. I could totally see her as some kind of artist. In any field. Graphic design; videography; photography; musician; just a regular artist. I haven't even heard her play the keyboard yet. It's just been sitting against the wall on her side of the room.

I should ask her to play something for me. I doubt she would, but it couldn't hurt to try, right?

"Kiara," I say again, drawing her attention.

"Yeah?" She turns in her chair again. I should get her one that actually spins. And is cushioned. She must have back pain from that cheap thing.

"You should play something for me. On your keyboard."

I notice her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Nope."

"Please. I want to know if you're actually good." I plead.

"You won't unlock musical Kiara until I know you,re trustworthy with my deepest secrets." She says unconfidently.

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"I... I don't know." She shrugs. "Your answer is no." She repeats.

"Fine." I groan. "Also, what's your major?"

She's about to speak again, but stops herself. "You guess." She says.

I think for a moment. "Something artsy?"

"Nah. Psychology." She corrects.

"Really? I'm a business major." I share.

"I know."

"How..?" I ask hesitantly. I don't remember ever bringing it up.

"Oh." Her eyes widen slightly. "The, uh, day you had that panic attack... You said it was because of a presentation in your business class..." She explains sheepishly.

I'm now realizing how much she remembers. This could be trouble in the future. My memory sucks. If she remembers everything I say, I can't think of how exactly it would be negative for me, but it could be. Maybe. I dunno. I guess it's nice to know she actually listens to what I'm saying.

It's becoming more and more clear that she doesn't actually hate me. And I'm not sure how to go about that. Do I be nicer too? But I'm blunt. That's a known trait of myself too many people describe me with.

Kiara goes back to doing her own thing. I think she's working on that book. I really want to read it. I wonder what it's about. I don't think she wants me to draw her attention away with more questions now, though. I'll ask some other time.

I check my phone again. Another text from Claire. "I know a couple single guys that I'm sure would love to be with you, but they're all from here lol. Keep me updated on your love life tho!"

I wonder how she'd react if I told her I had a crush. I don't like lying, but it's not like I'd lie about a relationship, just a small crush. I'm curious. "I actually have a crush on a girl atm :)" I type.

After a moment she reads it. And then a minute passes. She isn't typing, Did she really just leave me on read? Maybe she got distracted. "Damn Claire. Leaving me on read? lol."

After a minute she reads that one too. And still no response.

I really shouldn't overthink this. It's totally fine that she has her own beliefs and stuff. I'm probably making her uncomfortable with all this gay stuff. Like when I suggested we go to a Pride festival this past June, and when I've brought up every girl crush I've had the past few years.

It doesn't really matter right now if she doesn't support this "crush" I made up, because, again, I made it up. But this still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Why can't people just be indifferent about these things?

Of course, support is great. But indifference can be okay too. Better than homophobia and biphobia and all that.

Support from my best friend would've been amazing when I came out to her. But she had told her parents. And a lot of people at school too. And she ghosted me for like two months. We started talking again, which is great, but I don't get why it's so hard for her just to tolerate it.

I'm still me. Lucille Maria Belanger. The same girl for the past 18 years (with some developments).

Ugh. You know what? If she can't fucking support me, she can get the fuck over it.

I shut off my phone, dropping it down on the desk a little louder than necessary. I lean back in my chair.

I'm not going to properly confront Claire—that would make for a very awkward Thanksgiving—but if she has an opinion about my sexuality, she can go fuck herself. I shouldn't say that, but I think my point is clear.

I am Lucille Maria Belanger, I'm a pansexual badass, and people who don't like it can say it to my goddamn face. I know who I am. No one else does. And nobody—not Claire, or the homophobic pricks from my high school, or the republican party—can change that.

I hope.

Who knows, maybe I will have some weird moment of discovery where I realize it was all just a phase... My prefrontal cortex isn't even fully developed yet.

I need to stop thinking about this. I have no time nor energy for another identity crisis. I'll go for a walk.

I stand up, grabbing my camera this time. I put the strap around my neck as I slip on some sneakers.

As I'm about to head out the door, Kiara calls out, "Wait!"

I stop and turn around, waiting for her to tell me what's up.

She reaches into one of her desk drawers, grabbing something. She walks over to me, and places four AA batteries in my hand. "For your camera."

I have an eyebrow raised. The hell? I put the batteries down on the counter, then open the battery compartment on the camera. And I indeed do not have any batteries in it. And then I realize. "Did you take the batteries out of my camera?" I accuse.

"Yeah... Sorry—it was a while ago." She admits anxiously.

I don't bother holding back the short laugh that escapes my mouth. I roll my eyes. "You are the actual worst."

I put the batteries in the camera, then I head out.