𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞

L U C Y

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.