Age is But a Number (lesbian story)

Age is But a Number (Lesbian Story): Chapter 6

Laura’s POV:

Geometry? Seriously? What kind of shit concept is based off of a bunch of shapes and determining their whatevers. Why can’t geometry be like how it was back in kindergarten? Color in the lines, how many sides? Make an animal out of the shapes. See? That was so much easier and it actually let our imagination run wild. I love imagination; it’s the number one rule in my house and always has been. When I was younger I shaved off one of my eyebrows because I thought it looked cool and mommy and mom just laughed and told me I was a silly thing. Most parents would have whipped their child or took away their dollies.

I’ve never been hit by mommy or mom. There was only one time where I actually thought Mom was going to hit me, and that’s when I cussed at her. I could have sworn she was going to use all her strength (there’s a lot) and knock the shit out of me. But I’m a pretty good kid, I do well in school, I don’t talk back, and I’m not a whore or a druggie. Speaking of school Mom’s not too happy with my 60 average in Geometry. But Geometry is beyond hard; you would think that geometry would be easy for an artist right? Completely wrong. My teacher isn’t much help either, he looks like he’ll croak in any second and he goes too fast. Ironic, how can someone who is about to croak go fast? One time I asked him how I calculated the degree of a shape and he went so fast I felt like he was speaking a foreign language.

Usually in Geometry I just take out my sketch pad and doodle the whole period since trying to understand the language “Geometry” is nearly impossible. I love art; it’s so relaxing and really takes you somewhere far, far away. The only class that actually means anything to me is Art. Everyone loves me in art, and I love everyone in art. All my emotions and feelings just flow through my pen, pencil, or paintbrush and transfer to that page I’m working on. Today I’m feeling brand new, so I’ll probably start a new project.

Brand new, that’s how I’ve felt since Beth dropped me off at my house last night. I know, I feel brand new because of a stranger. She emailed me back too; I wanted to scream with happiness when mommy told me I had a new email. But I couldn’t because of two things. One, it was about 1am, and two I don’t want mommy getting suspicious. I know mommy isn’t the suspicious type (mom is) but I still don’t want her worrying about me. Mommy is not much of a worrier though, Mom said that before they met Mommy was the worry wart and she was the chill one. That’s extremely hard to believe.

One time I wanted to play a big joke on them, so I went into their room right before the bed, gave them the most serious look and said:

“Mom, Mommy, I’m pregnant.” Mommy just kind of laid there all quiet, but mom’s face got evil and she started screaming so much I started to shake. I had to tell her about a thousand times I was joking and for nine months she would snoop in my business trying to make sure it was just a joke. I just don’t know what made her so untrustworthy of me, she says she’s just looking out for me and she loves me but she doesn’t have to act like a cop.

I can’t imagine what would happen if Mom read the email Beth sent me. She would probably call the cops or something. I loved Beth’s email though, the way she writes is just hypnotic. I want to reply so badly but I don’t know what to say. I always feel like I act childish when I’m talking to an adult that I really like. I usually tend to like people twice my age by the way. Older people are so much sexier for some reason. Maybe it’s their wisdom, the way they carry themselves, or their experience. Whatever it is, it’s sexy. I take a deep breath and reach under my desk to pull out my notebook. Half of it is covered in a million and one doodles, so it takes me a while to find a clean page. I look around just to make sure that no one is watching me write. Lucky for me Mr. Hart is going on and on about degrees, and half the class is either asleep or terribly confused. So I grab my pencil, clear my head, and start.

Dear Beth,

Thank You so much for being so understanding, not a lot of people these days would just pick up some strange little teenager (unless they were a pedo). I love how classy you are and how you don’t flash your money. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living? Because obviously you’re making mad money. Emails are okay for talking to teachers but I still like texting better. Calling someone is the best though. Mom and Mommy are working on getting me a new phone by the way. Oh, I forgot to mention that I have two moms. They look nothing like me, they are both black and Mommy sports an afro, while Mom sports huge muscles. And yeah, Mom would have flipped if she saw you dropping me off the other day. She gets paranoid about older people being around me. But you don’t look too much older than me; you’re probably in your early 30’s right. I’m 17 by the way; I’ll be 18 in a month. I can’t wait for all that freedom I’ll finally have. I don’t know if I’ll move out right away though. I love Mom and Mommy and I have no problem with living with them for just a little while longer. Unless Mom is still acting super over-protective. So yeah, Mommy is real chill and sweet, and Mom is loving and caring but so suffocating. L I don’t think it’s supposed to rain today, I guess I won’t be seeing you. Well, I hope you have a great day Ms. Beth, I mean Beth. Bye.

Sincerely,

Laura

I’ll have to send that during lunch when I go to the library. I never read in the library, I just like going there some lunch periods for relaxation. I hope she emails back quickly so by the time I come home I can have an excuse to email her again. It’s weird how I’m having this schoolgirl crush on some stranger woman I just met. I don’t even know if she’s a lesbian. My gaydar went off when I first saw her but still. What if she has a husband and kids? Or, what if she has a wife and kids? Would that make me a home wrecker? What an interesting story that would make. A teenage girl has an affair with an in the closet mother. I would totally read that book.

This period needs to end like now, I’m not learning anything, the teacher is a dick and everyone is asleep. Ugh.

“Laura, how would you calculate the degree of a pentagon?” Mr. Hart asks suddenly, why does half the class have to wake up when he calls on me?

“Uhhh….” Is all I say as 20 pairs of eyes watch me intensely?

“Ms. Love have you not been paying attention? You know if you fail this next test it’s an F for the quarter.” Everyone bursts into laughter and I want to cry. I have no friends in that class so I can’t look to anyone for comfort.

“Sorry if I can’t pay attention to a shitty teacher.” As these words come out of my mouth everything seems like it’s in slow motion. When Mr. Hart yells: “Detention!” It’s like I can see his lips moving to form every syllable. The class is hysterical now so I just walk out of the class. As I walk down the hallway I hear people hollering with joy, it makes me smile. And out of the corner of my eye outside I see tiny raindrops just beginning to fall…