Congratulations for earning a spot in the LGBTQ+: Sun-Kissed Anthology! ♥

: All characters are age 18 or older, therefore they are able to legally purchase/consume alcohol and cigarettes in South Africa. Keep in mind that this story is fiction and therefore may not be a completely accurate representation. The Pride Parade Divya talks about took place in the beginning of March this year. Most Pride festivals I know of in South Africa take place during the summer so from late November to about late March.

I had always felt a sense of security in the routine of the weekend. I loved the weekend like no other teenager in my town. It was difficult to understand why. My parents were both migrants from India. All they wanted was a better future for me. A future they knew I could have but on the weekends, they set me free.

It started with Friday afternoon. I was not obsessive enough to count the seconds but I did keep track of the periods. A mental countdown of a sort. I spent less time on Friday's looking at my watch and more time listening to gossip. Friday was a good day, the tuckshop even sold hot chocolate and even though it was of the store-bought variety, the milky and creamy warmness of the drink made up for the quality.

The final bell would ring and for a moment the school would become quiet before a different variety of people came out. Home-fixtures were my thing. I loved being a part of them. I liked first-aiding or making sure there were enough lunch packs for the visiting school teams.

I did not run the show by any means. I just did my part and I know I did it well when teachers and girls from the other schools felt welcome. The break I had from not staring at books was nice although worrying about my future was a constant issue.

Then came Saturday, I dreamed of Saturday mornings. I left the house earlier than anyone. It was also the only day where my parents let me drive myself, as neither of them needed the car for most of the day. The astroturf and rugby fields were a good half an hour away from where I lived. I would not be dressed in sports uniform or have my orange first-aiders jacket on.

I smoked my one cigarette of the week, bought off a few unsavoury characters the previous day. It was my second biggest secret. The first would deadly.

The first was actually smiling at me as I parked. The first secret. Our secret. The one that was kept behind bushes or in the dark corner of the rugby field. The first secret with her bakkie and karate tracksuit, freshly showered and waiting for me before she had to leave. My first secret, who knew my second secret.

Charlotte DeWalt, was a fine woman and I was fiercely hers for as long as she would have me. The winter cold felt nippy on my exposed fingers. Typical really for a June morning in my part of South Africa. Her hands as always were colder than mine and she cringed when she saw the dying cigarette in my hands. Karate was her sport and she had made it into the junior national team every year since we started dating. Four years, to the exact day, since we recognised each other at the grade 8 social. It was kind of stupid really and scary.

I had joined an online dating site, hoping for someone to recognise me as a lesbian. It was a difficult secret to keep in my Indian home and her traditional Afrikaans community was not much better. Homophobic slurs were a part of life in our small town no matter which community you belonged too. It was a relief that people thought we were just friends from two different schools.

"What time do you leave for the tournament?" I asked her.

She bent down slightly to brush her lips against mine before we moved into her bakkie.

"In an hour. Don't worry I do have your notes on history, geography and maths. I will do work. June exams are starting this week, I know, I know." She counted the points on her fingers.

I nodded and leant in for another kiss. It grew heated quickly, gentlest of pecks, a slide of her lips and her hands bringing me closer. I got onto her lap, trusting the fact that it felt right to kiss her like this. Her tinted windows would protect us, they always did. I kept one eye on the back of my watch and vowed that this would only be a five-minute deal.

It was a buzzed phone that stopped the kisses. Charlotte never left it on silent or unattended. She gave me one last peck and I moved back to my seat pretending that my body was not obsessed with hers. I grabbed a brush from her bag and straightened my hair.

Another car was parked in the parking space next to Charlotte's.

She did not say much but rather gave the phone to me.

Lottie, maybe now would be a good time to stop kissing Divya. From Daniel Jones

My stomach clenched and I felt sick. My weekend, my life, was centred around seeing her and all I could see was someone threatening that.

"It's' ok I'll talk to Daniel. Danny is chilled like that."

Before I could reply, Danial knocked on the window. Charlotte grinned and opened the backseat. Juan, a rugby player from the boy's school, followed Daniel in the car.

Juan and I barely said two words to each other even though I had followed his entire high school career. I worked on whatever rugby field Juan was on and I was even lucky enough to work with the provincial team during Craven Week when he was chosen for the team.

"So Dan being here isn't a mistake..."

"Huh?" Came my unintelligent answer.

"Would you go to the Matric Dance with me?" She asked. Her promise ring, identical to mine, which we both wore around our necks glinted in the early morning light.

I was confused, but I could only nod before my brain would say anything against it, even though my heart wanted more than anything else. She gently kissed my cheek.

"But how?" The worry came back not a moment later.

"Daniel and Juan have kindly offered to take us to mine. You're going with Dan and I'm going with Juan at least on paper anyway."

I was not convinced. My parents would not like it. Besides I had already gone to my matric dance. It was horrible, over-priced and everything I despised about opulence.

"Are you sure?" I asked looking at Daniel and Juan, praying that every stereotype I had pictured them fitting into was wrong.

"Shots, this is thank you for keeping up with the team since forever," Juan said. "Besides, your girlfriend is hot."

I grinned when I saw Daniel's eager face. The sixteenth of June could not be closer. The day of the Matric Dance.

The next few weeks flew by with derby's over the weekend and exams daily. I wrote NBT's and sent in my application forms. My parents had their heart set on medicine, but as much as I liked people, I knew it was not the course for me.

Sad things along with happy ones filled the weeks between the dance. Charlotte and I saw more of each other. Juan and Daniel would also join us at Juan's house for study sessions before exams. Both of them just wanted to play sport forever. I was kind of shocked at how soft Juan was off the field, he was no longer intimidating but rather reminded me of a hug: warm, strong and comforting. Daniel, on the other hand, was scary smart for someone who appeared to work so little. He wanted to teach high school if hockey did not work out.

That was the good stuff. It was freeing to not have to hide a portion of my identity to a few more people. The bad news ranged from something small like a chip in my favourite mug to the scary outing of a girl in my school who lived in the local township, she ran away from home. The only reason I knew about her was that Charlotte's parents took her in. Zolisa was sharp, her words cutting but she always carried herself with confidence and knew that she deserved to be at school and had the ability to succeed like anyone else.

It was she who next realised that Charlotte and I were together. "You both wear the same necklace, it could not be more obvious. So be careful." Her warning rang in my ears as I wrote exams, but I was too selfish to give Charlotte up to the world.

The stress was like that of any other dance. My high heels felt taller than myself, Zolisa did my hair in a complicated pattern with random braids and beads. I wore a salwar, just because I didn't have to pay for another dress, besides, I thought it felt good to feel Indian every once in a while.

We took pictures in Daniel's garden and their parents watched with obvious pride. Mine stayed for a few moments before giving me strict orders to come back home straight after the dance. It was magical to have one more night without responsibility. There was no more medicine application forms or talks of moving overseas. Just a bunch of teenagers standing at the edge of adulthood.

Juan came out to us that night. He whispered it in each of our years and we came down from the high of dancing and lazed around outside at a neighbouring park. Zolisa bought a packet of biltong and we sat outside in the freezing cold, eating biltong and talking about the challenges we faced.

It was more than being global citizens. South Africa decrees that no one can discriminate on the grounds of gender or sexuality. It goes against The Constitution. Why then did we feel so troubled to reveal a portion of our true selves? The answer was simple yet avoided. Juan, Charlotte, Zolisa and myself, four individuals from very different socio-economic backgrounds all had the same fear. Coming out to those closest to us. We talked about going away and moving to the city. We talked about the futures of our forever's.

We walked back that night to Charlotte's. Her house was closest and none of us felt like the after-parties. My parents liked Charlotte's parents enough to let me sleep over. Juan and Daniel got the guest room, Charlotte's parents were chilled like that.

The early hours of the morning did not shake off the complacency of feeling open and free. Juan wore make-up for the first time. Zolisa showed him how to put on eyeliner, it would allow him to express his gender-fluidity more, she explained.

Charlotte for the first time kissed me in front of her parents in the early hours of that morning. They just laughed and told her she was always loved. We stayed up late enough to watch American Pride Parades on Daniel's laptop. The low streaming quality did nothing to hide the optimism we could feel. On paper, we were so much more freer than our American brothers, sisters and those in between. Why then did we feel so vulnerable revealing ourselves?

That June, I learnt that feeling safe enough to come out was a matter of knowing. It was not the best decision for everyone but it was the most freeing personal decision one could make. I had a circle, not a big one, who I could be myself around.

I came out to my parents during a Pride Parade in Cape Town as they dropped me off to university to study medicine. I came out to those most important to me on that hot March afternoon, on the day they left me. I hoped they would understand and as they drove away with expressions I chose not to interpret, I understood, I respected myself the moment I came out.

Matric = Grade 12

Matric Dance = Senior Prom (Held for the graduating class but you are allowed to invite younger students, policy differs from school to school)

NBT= National Benchmark Tests (Something like SATS, must be written if planning to study at a university)

Biltong = dried meat (I think it's like jerky but better)

Bakkie = truck

Tuckshop = Like a cafeteria station but usually stocked more with quick food like chips, sweets and savoury pies. Some have gone on a health-kick in recent years.

Craven Week = The biggest high school rugby festival in South Africa.