My Name Is Sam

Best Friends and Stones

"Hey Angie!" I say as I sit next to her in chemistry. Mr. Brownwell shushes me and goes back to using his book of religious crosswords.

"How'd it go with Mrs. Sweeny?" Angie asks as she does scientific measuring with blue and yellow substances.

"Terrible," I shake my head, "She said I can't be so 'openly gay' around people."

Angie's brows knit into a frown and anxiously pours more mixtures into a weird looking bong. A drop of sweat forms from her tightly woven forehead and she stops to paw it away.

"You know Samantha," Angie sighs, "Being as openly homosexual as you are right now, it makes me uncomfortable."

I blink at her. I thought she's my best friend and I can tell her anything. How does my sexuality affect her?

"Angie, I don't understand," my bottom lip quivers. Angie turns the Bunsen Burner off and looks at me with such anger.

"You are fourteen years old. There's no way you could be gay. Like, am I gay too because I'm fourteen?" she says.

"You don't understand," I say.

"I have to worry if my best friend is going to flirt with me. Do you know how disgusted I feel? How could you do this to me?" Angie snaps.

I grab my back pack and quickly leave to the bathroom. I run to the last stall and lock the door. I start to cry and I curl into a ball of tears on the bathroom floor.

How could you do this to me?
I thought you were my best friend.

"Mom? Clay?" I yell out as I walk into my house. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to forget the best friend incident that happened no more than two hours ago.

I hear no response and I grab a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and a bag of chips. I go to my room to watch Netflix for the next five hours like usual, but this time it was different.

Groans and exchanges of "bruhs" leak from Clay's room. I set my food on the top of the stairwell and I press my ear to his door to listen what is going on.

"Pass me another blunt."
"I'm so stoned...I...I'm stoned."

I back away from the door slowly. Clay would never be under the influence of anything. He is top of his junior class and president of student counsel.

There's no way my brother could be smoking.

I knock on the door, and then panic erupts in Clay's room.

"Mom?" Clay's voice shakes.

"Hey Mrs. Whore," the stranger's voice slurs and he begins to have a laugh attack.

"Shut up Paul!" Clay hisses.

"It's not Mom, it's Samantha," I say quietly. Clay's door slams open and he gets right up in my face.

"Don't you tell Mom about this. I swear, I will knock all of your teeth out. You hear me?" I nod at this and Clay smiles for a second, and then his expression turns to unamused. He grabs Paul and helps him down the stairs.

"Tell your sister to call me," Paul winks at me from the door.

"Don't talk to my sister like that, ass wipe," Clay says sternly. And quickly, I see him mouth to Paul: She is gay.

I grab the food I left on the stairs and rush to my room. I lock the door and I crawl into bed and begin to cry.

I know I'm not gay.
I only said that because I don't know what's wrong with me.
I mean, I like girls, but there's something different.
I feel like I'm trapped in the wrong body.

I feel my eyes start to feel heavy, and my grip on my long hair loosens and the feeling of emptiness subsides as I fall into a deep sleep.