She laughed, brushing back hair that hadn’t even fallen into her face. “I would take candy from strangers or go in a van to pet a puppy.”
“Metaphorically speaking, right?”
She bit down on her lower lip, embarrassed. “I can’t confirm that…”
“Oh, Octavia.” I frowned, annoyed at a young and naive version of her.
Her gaze fell to my lips when I said her name. “I wanted friends. And I didn’t know how to make them, so when someone was nice to me, I jumped on it. It’s rare when people are nice to you first.”
My heart ached. I had the complete opposite experience growing up. Kindness in those formative years saved me more times than I could ever imagine.
“I got into trouble a lot, of course. I can’t remember how many times my parents had to sit me down and drill into my brain that not everyone had my best interests at heart. Their warnings never really stuck until I was in middle school.”
She paused for a moment, gaze flickering down to her boots. I prayed she’d offer a little more, my desire to be closer to her running rampant.
I tugged on the collar of the sweater, breathing in a small breeze of her. Our legs stretched out, feet between one another. She twisted her boot, grazing my heel. I twisted, too. Even with a thick layer of leather between us, I would use any and every excuse to feel her.
“There were these girls. Beautiful and funny and…nice.”
The sun was getting the upper hand, reaching through the thick clouds to paint lines across Octavia’s skin. Her lashes were lighter in the light, a soft brown that fluttered as delicately as a butterfly’s wings. My heelpressed more against the toe of her boot. Octavia didn’t move away. Instead, she lifted her toe slightly and brushed it up and down the side of my boot.
“I had a crush on the most popular one.” The hitch in Octavia’s voice made me frown. “It was the first time I thought I had a chance with a girl. She was open about being into girls and guys.”
“And you’re…?”
“Like her, into both. Bisexual,” she confirmed, and the slight tilt of her brow asked me for confirmation on something she might have already guessed.
“Same.”
We smiled at each other as a tiny thread sewed us together. Bisexual and Black. There was an incomparable camaraderie in it. The strange, quiet, queer girl who always moved and the strange, paranormal, queer girl who was always on the road.
Despite our similarities, we were different types of threads. But a variety in texture lent to a far more intriguing tapestry, if you asked me. We wouldn’t be solely utilitarian. Together, Octavia and I wove something built for more than warmth.
“She was nice to me,” Octavia continued, sobering a bit as she recalled. “And was the first person outside my parents who knew I got crushes on people regardless of their gender. So, I trusted her, and she knew that. In hindsight, there were plenty of red flags. She’d never let me sit still for long whenever there were a bunch of people around. She’d order me to get them things. Grab more snacks or refill the drinks.
“I convinced myself I was being helpful and not being used. And then there was this party. Everyone from school was invited, and she knew I hadn’t experienced anythinglike it before. So, she told me she’d help me get ready. She said it was themed. We went out for costumes, and she promised I looked good in this very revealing nurse outfit.”
Octavia laughed. The amusement was genuine because she was over a decade away from the experience. I felt smack-dab in the middle of it. Experiencing that heightened anxiety I had when I was a teen, and every interaction I experienced felt life-altering.
“There I was, thirteen in a short skirt, low-cut top and some silly old nurse cap,” she said. “I showed up the only person in something that risqué. It was a school of nerds, would you believe it? And I was a nerd through and through. Horse girl.League of Legends. Magic: The Gathering nerd.”
“I only understand one of those things,” I said. “But the rest definitely make it seem like you were certified.”
“Trust me, I was.” She crossed her heart. “No one would believe that after seeing me in that outfit, though. No one would believe me after she kissed me in some dark corner upstairs, and one of her friends found us. She pushed me off her and said I’d forced myself on her. That I was only hanging out with her because she was the only girl in school who openly liked girls. She cried, and she had these big green eyes and a pretty smile, and I was the quiet Black girl who moved there two months ago. The Black girl who was taller than all the other girls. The Black girl who wore a short skirt to a middle school party…”
She paused, letting out a breathy, humorless laugh. My jaw tightened. I knew without a doubt what that’d done to her psyche. How it’d rewritten all the parts of her that were soft and trusting.
“You deserved to be a girl. To have crushes and be softand be treated with care,” I murmured. “Just like the rest of them. I hope you know that.”
She shook her head. “For the longest time I didn’t. I figured I was…defective. ‘Deviant’ was what one of them called me.”
My fingers curled into a fist. Fury tasted of metal, nearly impossible to swallow, so I let it linger on my tongue as I muttered, “Fuck them for ever making you feel like anything less than worthy.”
“Now, sure,” she agreed with a small smile. “But at the time, I thought I deserved it. Deserved to only be kissed in corners because my skin was too dark and always breaking out too much. My bisexuality an indication that maybe I was desperate. Those girls looked at me and saw ‘other’ for every check box. I wanted to hide away after that. Save everyone the trouble of trying to figure out what I was.”
And hide she did. All the way out here where I wouldn’t have been able to reach her if not for a nightmare.
“Who,” I said.
