“Dylan, would you do me a favour and hold this stepladder steady?” her sweet melodic voice drifts to me. I immediately head towards her, reaching out to clutch the short stepladder. Leaning half of my weight on the tiny ladder, I hope it won’t slip on the slick cafeteria tiles. I shift my head to look up at Lana, admiring her ass. God, I love those jeans on her.

My wandering eyes drift up, lingering on the outline of her bra strap, finally resting on her short russet coloured hair. I remember that at the beginning of the year her hair was so long it would brush the top of her belt if she let it hang down. Now it’s cropped to an inch past her shoulders, layers framing her jaw line with straight wispy strands that flip inward at the ends. Lana’s hands are busy securing streamers so I watch her long fingers handle streamers and scotch tape deftly.

I could watch her forever, but I remember where I am. I tear my focused gaze away and glance around the busy cafeteria instead. You’re probably thinking “it’s natural to check out girls around this age”. And it is. Or at least it would be, if I were a guy and not a girl.

----

Pulling my baggy sweatshirt closer around my narrow frame, I stalk down the halls. Most people meander or plod down the busy halls, but I stalk. Any annoying 10th graders in my path or anybody who decides to stop and talk in the middle of the hall is promptly bowled over. My eyes sweep the halls for familiar faces and once or twice I hoist up my hand in greeting. Instead of waving I usually just raise my hand coupled with a muttered, “hey”.

When I reach my locker I fiddle with the lock impatiently. The first time I enter the combination incorrectly, but on the second try the ancient lock grudgingly opens. Dumping my textbooks and binders into my backpack, I overhear a group of teenagers talking nearby. I didn’t know any of their names, but I’ve seen one or two of them around the school. I think one of them had been in my 10th grade science class (an ion ago, now that I was in 11th grade).

“Did you hear what he said?” One in the group reprimanded.

“What a jerk!” A boy spat out. “He’s so gay!”

Another teen nodded in agreement and stated the obvious conclusion. “He’s such a faggot.” I winced inwardly at the word although I was used to it. My already bad mood darkened a little more as I reflected on their conversation while I walked to class.

----

Many people comment on how much they like my hair when they first meet me. I find this somewhat amusing because my hair is what I hate most about myself. It’s short, unruly and worst of all so blond. I had my hair dyed purple for awhile, and loved it. But now all the dye has washed out and I haven’t had the chance to get it redone. Especially since my mom just decided last week that since I have a job, I have to pay for all my haircuts from now on. And, hey, the pay at Video Difference might be good, but it’s not that good.

My build leans toward abnormally skinny even though I hardly exercise and eat a lot. I’m not too tall, about average. As for my sexual orientation, I’d have to be frank and say, I’m not sure. I’ve gotten crushes on guys before that have been my friends, but they might not have really been crushes. It could just be that I felt close with them. Same thing goes for girls.

----

As I walked in the hall, right before lunch, I almost stalked right by Lana. I was so out of it I had simply been staring ahead when I heard Lana call my name. I stopped. As I swung my head to look at her, I saw she was alone and without her usual posse.

“Where are you going?” She asked me casually.

“GSA.” I answered shortly, readying myself for laughter or scorn.

But when I looked at her, her face was purely full of puzzlement. “What’s GSA?”

I was taken aback; there were people in the school that didn’t know what GSA was?? “The Gay Straight Alliance. It’s a club during lunch where you can go to talk about gay issues, or how you can spread gay awareness in the school.” I explained simply. “You should go; you don’t have to be gay to attend.”

She nodded and smiled. “Maybe I will go sometime. I can’t go right now because some of my friends and I are going to Sicilian’s for pizza.” She hesitates. “Do you want to come?”

The sudden invitation surprises me. “Uh…no thanks. I don’t want to let the GSA down.”

I left ‘and I’ll feel really awkward hanging out with you and your friends,’ unsaid. But still, she seemed to get the message. A slight frown graced her lips. “Okay. Well, have fun in GSA.”

I nodded and continued down the hall, throwing over my shoulder, “Yeah, same. Have fun at Sicilian’s!”

----

I was surprised to hear Lana call my name when I walked home one rainy day. “Hey, Dylan! Can I walk with you? I forgot my umbrella.”

“Sure,” I answer and move over slightly to give her room to stand underneath the umbrella as well.

We walk in silence for awhile before Lana speaks up. “Um…can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“It’s kind of personal,” she continues quickly and I realize she’s nervous, “so you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to…” I shrug. “Well,” Lana breathes in sharply and then asks, “Since you go to the GSA…are you gay?”

I stop abruptly and Lana almost steps out from under the umbrella, but she catches herself in time.

“I’m sorry, was that too personal?” Lana questions. Her blue green eyes are wide and full of concern. She thinks I’m mad at her.

“No!” I retorted hastily, once again taken by surprise. “I was just thinking about how to answer…you see, the truth is, I’m not sure. I think I’m…bi.”

“Oh.” Lana’s answer is short. “Then tell me if I’m moving to fast for you.” The words slip out breathy and I almost forget to breathe, especially because of how close she is. Her arms are positioned around my neck now.

Her nose is barely an inch from mine. Besides the heavy thudding in my chest, I only think about how beautiful she is. I remember to breathe and drag in a breath brokenly. Her eyes pin me to the spot as she pulls herself closer.

And then, to my astonishment, she kisses me.

I drop the umbrella.

For a moment, all I can do is stand there, stunned. I cannot believe that I’m awake while this is happening. It must be a dream. But it isn’t. Wide eyes close as I lean into her. The rain made us both soggy and cold, but I don’t care.

My hand slips down her back. I can feel her bra easily through the t-shirt plastered to her body. For a moment I consider trying to unsnap it, but I dismiss the idea almost immediately. Instead I drag my hand lower, to the small of her back, cradling her delicate frame. Even though I’m skinner than she is, I’ll always think of her as more delicate than me. Her t-shirt is soaked through and I can feel the heat of her body through the thin cotton fabric.

My other hand rises to trace her jaw line and then become tangled in her wet dark hair. I grip her hair and her back, struggling to keep my balance when I feel so weak in the knees.

I can feel rain dribbling down my cheeks, as if I were crying. But I’m not.

She pulls back, breath slightly ragged and cheeks flushed. Whether her cheeks are rosy from the chill of being in the cold rain or from embarrassment, I’m not sure. My lips are tingling and I think it’s from her Burt’s Bees lip balm.

The rain’s starting to let up now and I’m glad. I pick my umbrella up from the muddy sidewalk, shaking it a little to get some of the rain off it.

I smile at Lana as I wring some of the water from my hair. I start to feel paranoid about my appearance. Lana’s smile in return is soft and sweet. Her turquoise tee is moulded to her body and her once light blue jeans are now dark from rain. She grips at her pants and tugs them up a bit.

“The weight of the rain’s making my pants fall down,” Lana states shyly. She looks so much like a little kid I want to kiss her again. But I’m too shy to, so instead we stand there, awkwardly watching each other.

I had to say something to end the growing pause. “I-I…I think I like you.” I blurt out desperately. My cheeks flame and I clutch at my drenched sweatshirt, trying to bring to closer to me and protect me.

Lana smiles softly again, and I feel a slight burst of happiness, knowing it was me that made her smile. “Same here.”

A small bubble of happiness grows in my stomach, and we’re silent once again. The silence isn’t awkward though, just comforting. I step forward and hug her, our soggy clothes squelching between us. She gives me a small peck and I blush.

We walk home holding hands, and I don’t even care when some loud college guys call us lesbians.