Girls Like Girls

Chapter 3

The mirror stares back at my grey-blue eyes. Oh, the question on the lips of every teenager ever: what to wear.

"Wear something pretty."

That's what Harry had said. But what could I wear other than what I have; and what I have isn't particularly pretty. Practical? Yes. Pretty? No.

This wouldn't normally bother me, but I decided to at least look like I am making an effort. No makeup, though – I wasn't that desperate. The truth is I've never worn makeup. Not because I'm 'too gay' or 'too masculine', or too anything; I was just never taught how to do makeup. Harry tried to teach me once, but he gave up when I nearly poked his eye out with a mascara brush.

After much debate – some debate – okay, no debate at all, I settled on the usual: a black tank top, skinny jeans, combat boots, a dog tag necklace, and a braided leather bracelet that my mom had given me. I couldn't see any reason for keeping it, but after all these years I still couldn't bring myself to throwing it away. I have tried to get rid of it a few times, of course. Every time, I had told herself that my mom is gone and that I wanted nothing of hers. And every time, I had wiped my wet cheeks and put the bracelet back on again.

A loud ticking noise grabs my attention. The clock mounted to the wall opposite my bedroom door reads 08:11 PM.

I curse under her breath. Crap. I look out the window, seeing no truck on the driveway. Double crap.

* * *

After few more 'poetic' and 'colourful' words and a terrible Uber ride, I arrive at the Kapoors' house. Before I'm even halfway up the steps, Harry sighs, "Wow, you're so on time."

He looks me up and down just as I reach him on the porch, "Look who made an effort! Spoiler: not you."

I answer after catching my breath, "Shut up, I had to sit through an entire Uber ride listening to pop songs. Some drivers don't have good taste in music. That driver didn't have any taste in music."

Now it's my turn to inspect Harry's outfit, taking his hand and twirling him around. "You, on the other hand, look gorgeous."

"I could never stay angry at such a sweet-talker," he smiles, "Where's your ride?"

"My dad must be shopping or something, the truck wasn't there when I left. We'll have to ask your mom to drive us," I smirk smugly.

"My mom taking us to a party?! Are you crazy?" He stretches every word dramatically, as only Harry can.

I run down the garden path to the garage, "I thought you'd say that, so I texted her on the way. She's already waiting by your car."

Of course, Priya is happy to drive them. She's glad Harry still needs her. Humiliating him is a bonus.

"Okay you can stop here. Here's a space. And another. Whoa mom sTOP!" Harry tries to make his mother park the car.

"Nonsense, Harrison. This is miles away from the address on the flyer. You don't want to walk alone at night," she replies. "Well you won't be alone, but you can't rely on Dakota to protect you. I wish you would drink your milk. Then you would be just as strong as her."

He groans and I smile. Mrs P is like a mom to me, but better. She's the cool aunt who gives me money for McDonald's at 2 AM and calls the school when I'm not feeling up to going.

Approaching the house, it becomes clear that Alexandrina has a big wallet. Her house is huge; the yard must be just as big as the Target on my street – possibly bigger. Lights are flashing inside and people are flooding up the steps through the wide front door.