After my phone call with my mother, Charlie officially left the team, and my constant anxiety about my sexuality and crush on my friend reached an all-time high. I find myself wanting to quit soccer and drop out of school, mostly to spite my mother.
My brush paints the canvas in front of me, making progress on a small project assigned in my advanced painting class. The smooth motions calm me and I find the only time that I don't overthink nowadays is when I'm in a studio.
I haven't had an anxiety attack again, but the same panic grips me every time my mother calls. My future is planned out for me, and art is my only escape. Soccer was my first love, but painting quickly became my most important. Sadly, my parents don't share the same view, as art is a "dead end" in education according to them; as if becoming a professional soccer player is so easy. For my mom, it was.
Soccer was my physical and mental therapy for so long until I started to associate it with a person. It became a place where I cared about how I looked on the field, a way to show off. My stage when I've never wanted to be in the spotlight. Now, it's a responsibility I'd rather not have, the one thing I'd cut out of my schedule if I could control it myself.
But I want to want to play. Being so good at something is an incredible feeling, and if I could get that feeling back, I would grip it and hold on tight. For now, I'll have to put my passion aside and get the job done, because my purpose in life seems to be to make other people happy.
Step 1: be the best at everything I do, all of the time
Step 2: find a guy to bring home with me to meet my parents
"It's nice...for a landscape." I hear from behind me, much too close to my ear but I don't turn around. I'm painting a portrait and she knows it. Goosebumps raise the hairs on my arms at the proximity. Only when I hear her footsteps further away do I turn to look over my shoulder.
Christina DeAngelis. My self-proclaimed rival. Pain in my ass. Golden-girl.
Transferring here, I was excited and fresh-faced, naive to the horror movie that I'd unknowingly auditioned and got the part for. Growing up, Christina, was my biggest competition and the daughter every parent dreamed of, including my own. Being compared to her was one of my biggest motivators, but when I was free of her, I thought I would be relieved but the problems I faced kept me busy from thinking about her. I longed for a challenge. A different one, not a part two.
Until recently, the school was plenty big enough for the both of us, but that was before she'd transferred into my favorite class after a spot opened up. Becoming aware of her was the cherry on top of this period in my life, and she knew it.
Everything about her makes my hackles raise, especially her status. Like Charlie, Christina is quite beloved. She's the captain of the school's nationally ranked cheerleading squad, taking them from cheering for the football team to cheering for competitions. She's also good friends with most of my team and gets invited to all the same parties, putting her in my path every time I chance an excursion from the safety of my dorm room.
Today, she's in a pink monochrome outfit, her skirt short and pink, with white accents like a collared shirt and headband to hold back her straightened brown hair. Her skin is brown, not nearly as dark as mine, and so flawless I'm unsure if she wears makeup at all. Other than her words, what really gets under my skin about her is the way she still manages to be exactly who I'm supposed to be. The daughter my parents ask me to be.
Other than the fact that she's gay.
Not gay in a 'that's so gay', negative connotation way, but in a 'girls fucking girls' way. The kind of thing that my parents would not only be disappointed in but disown me for.
She's so unapologetically herself, and if she wasn't such a flirty bitchy girl, I might want to be more like her. My face feels like it's burning, and unsurprisingly, when I turn to look, she's grinning in my direction. I receive a wave of her fingers before I'm turning back to my canvas and ignoring her existence.
The last time I saw her was at a party, she gave me a smile as soon as our eyes met, her hand holding a blonde girl's as she led her up the stairs. Instead of risking a run-in with her, in case she ever came back downstairs, I left the party immediately and didn't look back. I have enough to focus on without putting myself in the position to be embarrassed and belittled by someone I used to know. Someone who enjoys making me uncomfortable.
Class goes by without an incident and I rush out the door to avoid another one. Her laugh rings out behind me, melodic and bright. I grind my teeth together and fish my headphones out of my bag to silence the world around me.
"Hey Luce, can I talk to you?" Reed stops me just as I'm about to head into the locker room for an ice bath and a shower. I nod, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. Despite it being early autumn, it's Florida so the heat only wavers, and never quite goes away.
She leads me over to the side, far enough away from the entrance to the building that nobody can hear us. "I noticed you pushing yourself extra hard in practices lately, but you seem...agitated?" She says it like it's a question, unsure of her wording, though she's hit the nail on the head. "Pushing yourself isn't necessarily a bad thing, but Maddie noticed it too, and it seems like you're pushing yourself rather than pacing yourself. We just don't want to see you burn out. We've all done it, and when it happens in the middle of a game...it's pretty devastating."
Clenching my jaw, I nod, looking away from Reed's soft green eyes. I know she wants me to succeed, as my friend and now as my captain, but all I hear is that I'm not hiding my problems enough.
"I'll figure it out before we play next."
"I...I feel like maybe you took what I said wrong. I'm still new at the whole leadership thing, but I just want you to be happy. Let me know if you need to take some time, or—"
"No! No, I'm good." My eyes widen at the thought of being pulled. I can't imagine what my mother would say if she turned on the live stream of my game only to see my position filled with someone else's number. Someone else's daughter. "I'll be good, just figuring some stuff out."
"You know you can talk to me, right? I'm your friend first." She says and I melt a little bit, giving her a small smile.
"Thanks, Reed," I say, putting my hand on her shoulder before I continue on my mission to climb into the ice back and speed up recovery, mostly so I can do it all over again tonight.
Reed isn't the only one who notices something has changed in terms of my behavior. Since our heart-to-heart, Charlotte has been prioritizing me as much as she can in between appointments.
"So your big day is coming up, how do you feel about it?" I ask her, reaching my hand into the bag of chips placed between us on the floor. Even if we sit together and do our separate homework, the fact that she's here means a lot to me.
The more time we spend together, the less I think of her romantically. I quickly realized that either she's not my type, or she was just a stepping stone to realizing how I felt about the opposite sex, an admiration rather than an infatuation.
"I'm nervous. Mostly for Aaron. Surgeries go wrong, and for him, it's a risk I'm not really willing to take. But it's my best option, so he doesn't care. On the bright side, it's a one-time thing, so that means faster recovery and I might even get to keep my hair." She plays with her intricate braid, which I've noticed her do on multiple occasions.
"You do have beautiful hair, but it's not everything. You'd still be Charlie without it," I assure her, looking up from my work to give her what I hope to be a reassuring smile. She returns it, reaching for my hand.
"I'm happy to know you, Luce. We all are," She says, probably referring to the team. "I hope you know that."
Water gathers in the corners of my eyes and I look back to my work, attempting to distract myself from my own emotions. I can feel her stare, and I'm forced to look back at her. "Talk to me," She says softly and my shoulders slump.
"I just. It's a lot," I manage to choke out. My throat tightens and I tilt my head back so that the tears don't fall. "It's my mom. And soccer. And school. And..."
Charlie moves to sit beside me and gently places her hand over mine. "That sounds like a lot, Luce. You should talk to someone, even if it isn't me."
"I think something needs to give. And...It might have to be soccer," I whisper, making hesitant eye contact to gauge her reaction.
She's quiet, eyebrows furrowing for a moment before her face becomes neutral again. "If that is what you want, we will support you. If you simply need some time, we'll support you on that too. But if you are doing this because you aren't sure what else to do, I think that you should speak to a school counselor. They have been extremely helpful with me and moving around my classes, making sure that I can take them online while I'm in the hospital, and I feel like they might be able to give you advice that I cannot."
I nod. Rationally, I know that she's right. But the thought of speaking to a professional and admitting defeat makes me feel like a failure. At least right now, I'm miserable but I'm still going.
I want to talk to Farris again, but Charlie is right here and I have the sudden urge to admit what's been weighing me down the most. The only part of me that I don't truly understand. I can handle school, my parents, and sports. I've balanced all of those for my entire life. But the unknown, that's what makes me restless.
"Can I tell you something that doesn't leave this room?" I blurt out and Charlie immediately nods.
"Of course. Always," She squeezes my hand.
"I um...I'm pretty sure that I'm gay. Or something," I admit. There's no gasp, no flinching, no pulling her hand away. Charlie only smiles to herself and stays quiet. I realize quickly that that is exactly what I needed from her. I don't need a reaction or even reassurance. Just my friend to sit with me and hold my hand. Her actions speak volumes. Words are just words.