Don’t let the haters get you down.
Age 12
Marisol shoved into my shoulder while bounding down the stairs. “Get lost.”
I turned on the carpeted step and glared down at her. “What did I do this time?”
“Nothing. I just don’t like you.” She glared at me. “I’m having a slumber party tonight. I don’t want to see you.”
“Consider me gone.” I started up the stairs again. “I have better things to do than hang out with your friends.”
“Oh yeah, like what? Write love letters to your lesbian girlfriend, Courtney?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just my friend.” I crossed my arms. “And she’s a better friend than any of yours.”
“Mine don’t come over to try to kiss me.”
“And mine don’t come over to steal from us.” I raised an eyebrow. The last sleepover she had, one of her expensive bracelets had gone missing. I had my suspicions about who took it. Marisol’s face turned beet red.
“At least I don’t have to dumpster dive for friends. Peoplewantto be friends with me, not take pity because of your limp, and let you sit with them at lunch like they do you.” She looked down at my short leg and laughed.
“Whatever, Marisol. I’m not going to bother you. Have fun with your friends. Make sure to hide your jewelry.” I raised my hand, flashing the ring that matched hers. Our dad had given them to us on our respective birthdays. It was some weird tradition. He called it a purity ring. I wasn’t sure what that even meant, but I knew that the ring was super expensive, and I wasn’t supposed to let anyone else have it.
I went to my room, locked the door, and pulled out the notebook Courtney and I shared. We took turns writing in it and passing it back and forth between classes at school.
My notes were mostly sketches and doodles of things, nothing that serious. I was always afraid of one of my siblings, or my stepmother, finding my private thoughts and sharing them.
Courtney, on the other hand, used our notebook to tell me everything she couldn’t say out loud. How being gay in a small-minded community was, how her family, born and raised strict Christian, felt about things, and how our classmates reacted. Courtney and I bonded over our lack of friends, but our reasons for the isolation were different.
I read her last letter, in which she told me she’d almost kissed a girl at her church’s youth group overnight lock in. She went on for pages about the girl, Morgan, and by the time I finished reading, I wasn’t in the mood to draw.
I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t wait until I could leave this place. But where would I go? I rolled back and picked up my pen, feeling inspired to talk about all the places I wanted to visit one day. The Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, the Amazon!
It’s decided. The moment I turn 18, I’m going to all the places I’ve seen in the movies. Marisol and my brothers can have this place.
I shut the notebook just as someone knocked on my door. I hid it quickly and sat up. Lolita, the housekeeper, came in with a warm smile. She and Dad were the only ones who I trusted when they smiled at me.
“There are cookies in the kitchen, Mija. It's got M&M’s. You like those, no?”
I climbed out of bed.
“I do. Thank you, Lolita. I’ll go down in a bit.”
She looked me up and down and scowled. “It’s so late, why are you not in your pajamas? You’re going to get your bed dirty.” She went to my dresser and pulled out a green pajama set. Lolita hated to see us lying in bed in our jeans. She tossed them to me, and I rolled my eyes as I trudged to the bathroom to change.
“Thank you, I’ll be down in a bit.”
“Don’t let them get cold,” she warned before heading back downstairs. I changed and slid on my special LLD slippers before going downstairs and heading into the kitchen. On the way down, I could hear music and laughter coming from Marisol’s room, but I moved quickly, not wanting to be confronted by any of her stuck-up friends.
I was just about to push the kitchen door open when I heard voices from the kitchen. Boy voices, lots of them. Did one of my brothers have friends over too?
“Man, I don’t want to stay here and deal with your sister and all her stupid seventh-grade friends.”
Slowly, I peered inside the open door. Fabian was at the island with three other boys, eating cookies.
“Me either, but my parents went out and we can’t leave Marisol and Domino alone.” Fabian shrugged.
One of the boys turned, and I recognized him. That was Swayze from school. Which meant the others must be Koi and Dennis. They were in ninth grade with Fabian and never went anywhere without each other.
