What would the world be like if Gay was right, and straight was wrong? This story follows the lives of a group of friends.

Just as a heads up, I am writing this on a google.docs with my best friend, Emily M. (last name hidden for safety) and you can find her on Tumblr at @artzypaw. We are writing this story together.

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Love you!


12. Nicole

I look for Fae in the lunchroom. I don’t see her at our spot. I brought her flowers, but by now, they have rotted. I sit down and throw away the roses. This is pointless, I tell myself.

“Nickel?” Jon asks me. Getting up I hug him tightly and try not to cry.

“Where’s Fae?” I ask, concern overwhelming me.

“I haven't seen her, no.” He shakes his head. I nod, and pick up my sandwich.


I get a message: Hey Nicole . Sorry I’m not here with you at school, something came up, and I couldn’t make it. I’m sorry! I’ll see you later! -Love Fae


I close my phone. That’s couldn’t be Fae. She never calls me Nicole . I finish my sandwich, and I get ready to go to class.

I see Miss George preparing her class discussion about winter. This happens every year in her history class. She talks about things that have happened during winter in ancient history. I don't hear much, as I zone out for the most of it. All I manage to get was this some guy named Washington raided something during winter. I think we have a test on this, but I hate history anyways, and my mothers’ hate it too.

I barely make it  through classes and when I get home, I see a rat scutter across the floor. I wave at it, and shut the door to the mobile home. I set my backpack on the table/kitchen counter. I go to my aunt’s bed. She shares it with my douchey uncle, who abuses the crap out of her. Climbing onto the bed, I start to tear up.


Fae wasn’t at school because of me and I was going to apologize today and she wasn’t there… I lay in bed and sob the rest of the night, going over my mistakes.




    Near ten that night, I hear my aunt Linda come in with her son, Lionel. She works with finances at the school nearby, and Lionel comes in with her. She lays him on the bed, and he snuggles up next to me. He is a scrawny little boy, with brown hair, and green eyes. He has a broad nose for a kid his size.

I see my aunt in the kitchen. She has long, wavy brown hair. She is thin, but not super skinny - not like anorexic or anything like that. She heard me walk in and sighed, “When did you get home?”

“After school, straight away, no detours.” I assure. She finishes cooking and puts them in bowls; we were eating soup.

“Did you finish homework?” She places the bowls onto the table and calls, “Lionel, dinner!”

“Coming.” He grumbles.

“I didn’t have any homework.”

“Good. Well, eat up before your uncle gets home.” I nod and scarf down my food, appalling tastes running over my tastebuds. I almost barf.

“He’s home! Lionel, you didn’t come in time! I’m sorry, no dinner tonight.” He tears up just as he runs into the room, but turns around head hanging low. I sigh, not again… I’m going to have to sneak food for him tonight, for the fourth time in a row. What is he doing in our room?

“Nicole , room. Now.” My Aunt snaps and I don’t need to be told twice. Lionel was under the covers and I heard muffled cries.

“Hey, I got food in my bag from lunch.” I whisper, making sure my Uncle doesn’t hear that we’re home. “Let me get it.” I tiptoe to my bag and pull out a sandwich, the cheese is gone somehow but i ignore it.

“Hurry up and eat, P-” The door slams open and our Uncle stands at the doorway, frowning. I had quickly placed the food underneath the bed sheets so Paul, my horrible Uncle, couldn’t find it as an opportunity for more food.

“Both are here, no stupid business?” His voice hoarse, “No incest.” And he slams the door just as loud as he opened it.


“Eat up!” I plead, pushing the bread and meat into his dainty mouth. He quickly, and silently, chews up the sandwich. Paul burst through the door, and I shove the sandwich under the covers. I break off some of it, and leave the other half in the bag. Lionel is 12, but a bit challenged in the mental department… Not a bit, a lot.

“What is that?!” Paul yells, pointing to the bag in my hands.

“A-a..” I try.

“Spit it out, you whore!”

“It’s a sandwich, sir.” I say, a lot more boldly than I had expected. He reaches over and slaps me across my face. I hold back my tears, and hand him the half sandwich.

I’ve learned not to cry in front of Paul. It only makes it worse. I wait until he leaves, and I get the rest of the sandwich, and resume feeding Lionel. As he eats more silent than before I feel a tear fall off of my cheek and onto the sandwich bread.

“I’m s-so sorry, Lionel. Let me get that-”

“It’s fine.” He interrupts me. I look up and see him eat the last piece. Peering away, I think of Fae. I’m going to lose Lionel someday, I’m sure of it, but I can't lose Fae. Making sure the door is closed all the way, I crawl under the sheets next to Lionel and cry myself to sleep; cheek red and burning from the slap.

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