Humor Me

Chapter 4

She set her cards down, the steam slowly pouring out of her ears. “You know what? Even if I manage to be a part of the alpha group of the school, people will still label me. And that…Well, that just sucks.”

Alberta’s gasp was recognizable.

John stood up, arms wide and told Melonie. “Baby, you will always be an unstable freak. You will never have a healthy relationship. I’m the best guy you could ever be with, but you couldn’t even sustain our relationship because you’re a freak. You’re an asexual!”

I squeezed the ticket booth guy’s hand.

“No.” Melonie proudly lifted her chin, not needing big words to send her message across. “John, I will have healthy relationships in the future. I don’t have to sleep with someone to prove the strength of a relationship. Nor do I have to change myself to prove something. There are many bright relationships in my future. Loving relationships and friendships—and they can all still be meaningful without sexual attraction.”

She grabbed her short hair. “And this, this isn’t me! I’ve been changing myself to supposedly find a better me when really I’ve just been a clone of someone else. I’ve been hanging out with the wrong people. Over the past few weeks, I have come to realize that if you’re hanging around the wrong people, you cannot find your true self. I have been in two different groups that were not me and being around them forced me to be something I was not.”

“I learned that you need the right friends to be who you are. The ones who accept you for being you.” She glanced at me and I smiled, giving a wave. She grinned back. Melonie then grabbed the microphone off the stand and exclaimed, “I’m Melonie Jane-Doe, an asexual who proudly has meaningful relationships without sex!”

The bleachers rumbled, the school cheering in triumph. They probably would’ve given the same excitement if she just said, “Milk” since our narrow-minded school was rambunctious.

But for the sake of the moment, I persuaded myself they were all cheering for her. And maybe they were.

The class president was about to step in and take the microphone, but my mouth somehow blurted a loud, “Wait!” I could feel the ticket booth guy smiling and quickly climbed over people, apologizing as I rushed my way to the front.

“Miss Rogan,” the class president started but I snatched the microphone from Melonie first.

“I’m Jupiter Rogan,” I blurted.

A sudden hush draped across the crowd. My backbone grew stiff as eyes burned through me. Sucking in a sharp breath, I spoke in a much calmer voice, “I thought I was the girl who everyone either loved or was obsessed with to such a level of creepiness. I was humored by everyone who I thought was below me, amused by their foolishness for making mistakes. But really, I should be the one who you find humorous.

“I once said you didn’t need to be the prettiest to be the most liked because in this school, looks didn’t matter. Yet I spent weeks to change the appearance of someone to make them like themselves.”

“I was wrong.” I paused, hearing the fainting wannabes hit the floor. I showed no hint of hesitation, catching everyone’s attention with a firm gaze. 

“That’s right. The Jupiter Rogan was wrong. Because I am not the girl who I thought I was. It turned out there were people who did hate me.” My gaze met Alberta’s and a frown dipped the curves of her lips. “And that not everyone liked me. And how I wasn’t even close to perfect.” I stared up at the ticket booth boy who flashed a thumbs up. I smiled. “I couldn’t force people to like me. I thought I could, but that only made people hate me more.” I eyed the cheerleaders who now showed looks of sympathy.