Forget me lots (Completed)

14. River and Dawn 🌿🐝

This is it... I'm living the moment I've dreaded the most since my dad left Uruguay for good and we became immigrants. I've confronted the clique I've worked so hard to be a part of. Not only that, I've declared to the four winds I was sick of their bullshit and even hit my friend in the face. In front of the entire school. This is not like me. Putting on a show for everyone to see how I feel and what tips me over the edge. It goes against what I swore I wouldn't put myself through.

Finding my place in the school, overcoming the fear of being the transfer kid, who needed private English lessons and sweated every time a word seemed hard to pronounce were milestones I've long left behind me. I wanted to belong so badly, the lines to what was right and what made me a total jerk became blurry. All I know is that I've been living a lie and wasn't even aware of it until I met her down by the lake. Dawn, with her wild hair and tormented daydream gaze. Dawn with her yellow bike and a delicate paper crown.

As I'm leaving behind all the mess I've created, another realisation hits me like a ton of bricks from my father's shed.

It was all worth it, for she is right beside me. The cool wind soothes the burning of my cheeks and the pain from my split eyebrow doesn't seem important at all.

Holding Dawn's hand is like holding a hummingbird. Or a heartbeat. It's like holding something complete and vibrant, alive.

As soon as I touched her skin, I wondered how I've gone this long without doing it. I rubbed my thumb across her palm and along her trembling fingers, accompanied by the symphony of her every breath.

Touching girls wasn't new to me. I'd held hands with Lorna—a long time ago—and no, I wasn't at all proud of that. It was back in sixth grade when we thought we could be something other than friends. Turns out we weren't even that to begin with.

Then, at last year's end of term dance, there was this girl, Bella. We'd held hands and even kissed while we waited for her dad to pick her up.

The thing is, holding hands with girls didn't feel different from holding Josh's hand when he was a little kid crossing the street. Or holding Abuela's hand when she was reminiscing about Gramps. Maybe a little more awkward...

When Bella and I kissed, my mouth was dry, and I kept my eyes open. It wasn't pleasant at all, and it made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. While I was kissing her, I'd wondered if I might be gay. Except I didn't feel like kissing guys either.

Maybe I wasn't cut out for this love business. Maybe I lacked that programming inside and I was some sort of cyborg meant to wander the planet alone—I'd thought back then.

Or maybe, now that I think of it, maybe my skin didn't recognize all the other girls. The way my cyborg drive wouldn't accept new hardware if it didn't recognize the formatting.

When I touched Dawn's hand, I recognized her.

I knew.