Another day, another biology class. I walk into the classroom to find my three friends seemingly in hysterics about something. Diana looks embarrassed, and Yonca and Terra are laughing a lot. Curious, I take my usual seat near them.

“Hello, Zoe!” Yonca greets me, still giggling from the last thing that was said. “Is it really true that Mason asked you to Homecoming?”

“Oh, he did,” I recall.

“And you said you’re already going with someone!” Diana jumps in, seemingly trying to get the heat off of herself. “Why didn’t you tell us, Zoe? I thought we were your friends!”

“Oh, well… I only said that so he’d leave me alone,” I admit sheepishly. “I’m not really going with anyone.”

“Oh, so you’re still gonna hide it from us?” Diana teases. “Come on, Zoe. Tell us who you’re in love with!”

“I’ve always been interested as to who the type is that you’d fancy,” Terra adds, smirking at me.

I can’t answer, but instead simply turn red and sputter a bit, feeling a surprising sense of terror the whole time.

“Oh come on, leave her alone,” Yonca chides the others. I feel very grateful for her. “Can’t you see how nervous you’re making her?”

“C’mon, we’re only teasing her,” Diana responds defensively. “Jeez, you’d think we were threatening her with a knife.”

“Well, go ahead and tell her the news,” Terra prompts.

“Oh. Well…” Diana goes back to looking embarrassed, causing the other two to giggle a little bit more. “Well, today he actually came and asked me!”

“Isn’t that crazy?” Yonca marvels. “I guess he goes for the blondes.”

“And what did you say?” Terra prods her.

“I said… yes.”

“Wait, really?” I ask her, very surprised by this turn of events. “After everything you said about him last week?”

“Well, whether he deserves it or not, he is in Symphonic Band,” Diana points out. “And pretty good looking.”

“Really, Diana?” Terra says, shaking her head. “So you don’t even like him, you’re just doing it for the status? I didn’t realize you were a glory seeker.”

“I’m not!” Diana shouts, starting to look genuinely angry.

“I don’t even think he’s attractive, anyway,” Terra continues. “You must not have high standards if that’s what you care about.”

“Oh, come on!” Diana argues back. “Back me up, Zoe! Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“Oh, um… I’ve never thought about it,” I respond stupidly, taken aback by this question.

“If it’s something you need to think about, then there’s your answer,” Yonca concludes, smirking a little bit.

“All of you shut your mouths,” Diana hisses at us. “Let’s just get ready for class, I’m pretty sure he’s about to start it.”

And so that is what we do. I’ve seen enough of these types of conversations to know that Diana isn’t seriously mad; things will be back to normal by the end of the period. I could not say the same for myself, however, if they had known the truth.

After spending the past few days trying to figure out my feelings, it has become clear to me that there is someone I’m in love with. But I can never tell the others about it… they’ll hate me for it, and I’m not entirely sure if I could blame them. Sitting with them for the rest of the class knowing that I am keeping this secret casts a shadow over me which leaves me feeling morose.

When I get to the band hall for jazz band, I almost walk straight into Ashley, who is closely examining a piece of paper that was taped to the wall near the door. She’s looking at it with a smug, satisfied expression.

“Results for our first chair test,” she explains, seeing my confused expression. “Surprise, you got first chair.”

I giggle weakly; of course, the joke is that I’m the only bassoon player. I briefly look at the sheet myself, and see that Ashley managed to get first in the horn section.

“Good job!” I tell her.

“Eh, it didn’t take much,” she replies casually, although I know her well enough to tell that she likes the attention. “Alright, we better get ready for rehearsal.”

There’s an awkward pause, as I find myself just looking at the way her hair hangs down neatly to below her shoulders, and the way that the fluorescent lights on the ceiling give it a mesmerizing glint.

She looks at me, and then does something very unexpected: she smiles at me. “You have a really cute smile, Zoe,” she tells me sweetly.

“Oh? Was I smiling?” I ask, feeling a bit embarrassed.

However, at that point, we are interrupted by someone else walking through the doors; a tall, bespectacled, trumpet-playing junior named Lionel. He comes to a stop when he sees Ashley and I are blocking the path.

“So…” he comments dryly in his nasal voice, “Are you guys going to just… stand there?”

“No, we’re not,” Ashley snaps back. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Ah, marching band. Just about a hundred or so students out in the parking lot after school, in the middle of Texas, during the hottest month of the year. Completely mental, right? Yet that is where I find myself during the beginning of my sophomore year. So what drives so many people to do this masochistic activity? Well, some people…

“Anja! You’re too far back!” a voice says suddenly, snapping me out of my trance.

Ah, that was my section leader. Indeed, it looks as if I overstepped my dot by quite a lot. I guess I got so into narrating my own life that I spaced out. Time for a bathroom break, I suppose.

However, inside the bathroom, I run into Zoe. She looks nervous about something…

“Hello there, Zoe!” I say to her, waving.

“H- hi, Anja,” she stammers, looking around the bathroom apprehensively.

“Is something the matter?” I ask her because it certainly seems as if something is the matter.

For a few seconds, there is only silence, as Zoe contemplatively bites her lip. Then, she says, “...C-can we talk about something? Somewhere private?”

We both sneak away to the practice room Nova and I usually hang out in during the mornings.

Zoe does not seem to be in a great hurry to say what is on her mind. She is sitting on the ground in front of me, still biting her lip a bit, and now she is also wringing her hands.

“Okay…” she says, planting her hands on the floor. She doesn’t quite meet my eyes.

“At church last weekend,” she says, “Some of my friends said something about you and Ashley which… seemed to concern them.”

“Oh really?” I reply. “And what did they say?”

She seems to get nervous again, and this time she’s also blushing a bit.

I'm very concerned for her, but at the same time, I’d like to get back out to the parking lot sometime today. So, I start guessing what she’s trying to get at.

“Was it something bad about the two of us?” I ask.

“Well… um… I mean, it’s like… I g-guess it…”

She doesn’t seem keen to answer that. Okay, maybe that was a bad question. Let’s try something less subjective.

“So, they seemed unhappy about whatever it was?” I ask.

“Um… yes,” she says. “They said that you had… although, I have no way of knowing whether or not it’s…” She trails off again.

“What did they say I did?” I ask.

“Well… they said that a few years ago, you were… caught kissing another girl.”

I breathe out with annoyance. “Jeez, people are still spreading that around?”

“Is it true?” Zoe presses me anxiously.

“Yes it is, Zoe,” I answer bluntly. “I’m sorry if that makes you think less of me… actually, no I’m not.”

Her nervous habits have stopped by this point, and now she’s just sitting deathly still, looking at me with wide eyes. I think it’s time to start getting to the bottom of why she’s talking to me about this.

“So… what is it about this that upsets you?” I ask her.

She begins moving around again, just a little bit. “Well… um…”

“Are you upset with me?” I ask her. “Or is it your other friends who you think are in the wrong?”

This takes her a good moment, but eventually she says, “I’m not upset with you… or with anyone. I’m just… scared.”

“What are you scared of?” I ask her.

Uh-oh. This question officially sets her off, and I see tears roll down her face. Looks like we’re going to be here for a while. That’s okay, though.

I move next to her and set an arm around her shoulder. She immediately caves in and just latches onto me, crying onto my sleeve.

After a few minutes, she finds the will to speak again.

“Y-you don’t… like Ashley like that, d-do you?” she asks me.

“No, she’s not really my type,” I explain. “I prefer someone who’s more… Uh, cooperative.”

Suddenly, I get an idea. I think I may know what this is all about. “Why do you ask?” I ask her.

She detaches herself from me and looks straight at me solemnly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the past few days, and I think… I do.”

“You do what?” I ask.

“I… like her.”

Ha! I knew it.

Zoe, however, has gone right back to crying on me.

“So, you’re worried that… if your friends find out that you feel that way about her, they won’t want to be your friends anymore?” I ask.

“My… friends,” she sputters in between sobs, “My family… everyone.”

Well, I wish I could tell her that she’s wrong, but I guess I can’t promise that. There’s one thing I can promise, though.

“I’ll still be your friend,” I tell her.

Her crying does ease up a little bit at this. But still…

“Are you worried about what Ashley will think?” I ask.

Zoe nods. “We’ve been friends… for so long,” she explains. She detaches herself from me and starts wiping her face on her own sleeves. “If our friendship got ruined… it’d all be my fault…”

“It wouldn’t be your fault, Zoe,” I tell her.

Her face scrunches up and goes red. “Yes… it would be.” Back to the lip biting again. “I’m the one… who had this thing…”

“You don’t get to choose who you have feelings for,” I explain to her. “Nobody gets to choose whether they like men, or women, or both, or neither, or… whatever.”

She’s just looking at me intently, so I continue.

“Some people think it’s all genetic, but it could also be partially developmental. We don’t really know yet,” I explain to her. “But what we do know, is that the way you are is not going to change. Just think of it like being left-handed!” I tell her. (This is a rather apt metaphor for me, given that I am left-handed myself. It made learning to play the trombone a pain in the ass.)

These words do not have the effect that I hoped they would. Zoe is now looking at the floor, looking crestfallen.

“What am I… gonna do then?” she asks me.

“I think you should tell Ashley how you feel,” I tell her soothingly. “Even if she doesn’t recipo… uh… even if she doesn’t feel the same back, if she’s really your friend, she’ll understand.”

She looks up at me at last, with her wide, blue eyes. “You… you really think so?”

“I really do,” I tell her.

And with that, we really need to get back on the field. I give her a minute to wipe the rest of her face off, and then help her to her feet.

Hey, I did it! I helped her with her problems. Honestly, I did such a good job, I should start charging people for this. Take a leaf out of my old man’s book.

Also, for the record, I’m like 100% sure that Ashley is also gay. I mean, come up. Just look at her. It’s so obvious. Man, I should try and find out if Nova is gay too. If he is, we’d have a full set! Score another one for the gay agenda! Mwahahaha!