Chapter 4

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

"She's insufferable, I just want this assignment to be over!" I complained as I walked from the canteen with Esther, vanilla custard croissant in hand.

"Was it really that bad? I thought she'd at least be decent since she was in your home," she sympathised.

"I mean, there were times were we spoke and it felt almost...normal, but other times she was so disrespectful and snarky. I did all the work and she just sat there and insulted me!" I could feel myself getting angrier the longer I thought about it.

"And to make everything a thousand times worse, she knows about my dad," I finished complaining, sitting down under the large oak tree in the playground.

Esther's eyes widened - she knew that talking about my dad was a touchy subject and that I avoided the topic at all costs. My closest friends didn't know how he died, and they never asked.

"Wha — how did she find out?"

"I mean, I told her," I explained, "She asked if he knew how to chrome-cast the TV and I just told her..."

"Oh, I mean...are you okay with her knowing?"

"Ugh, I don't know. I hate that she knows something so personal about me. I'm scared she's going to use it against me one day." I admitted.

"I don't think she would. Like you said to Aspen yesterday, she's not cruel," Esther reassured me.

I nodded in reply and leant back, my back resting against the hard trunk of the oak tree. I bit mindlessly into the croissant I had bought, watching as the flaky pastry fell into my lap. I could see the boys soccer team and Peyton walking into the soccer field across the playground, and watched as her posse of followers trailed behind them like a pack of lost puppy dogs. It was pathetic, really.

"What is it about her that makes them so...obsessed?" I asked mindlessly, more to myself than to Esther.

"I mean, I think it's only you that she treats like shit. She seems to be fairly nice to everyone else," she reasoned, and she had a point.

"That, and she's like...insanely attractive," she continued.

Esther wasn't wrong, as much as I hated to admit it. I would love nothing more than for her to be hideous, but alas, that was not the case. Unfortunately for me, she was possibly one of the most attractive girls in our school. She didn't exactly use that to her advantage either, never wearing makeup or doing her hair in anything other than a ponytail or messy bun. She was effortlessly beautiful, and it pissed me off.

"Ugh, I know — but those girls aren't gay, are they?" I replied.

"Who knows, they're probably just leeching off of her popularity..." Esther mused.

We watched from afar as the soccer friendly began, players scuffling for the ball and kicking it back and forth. Peyton stood out from the other players, not by her clothes (because she wore shorts every day), but because of her ponytail flying behind her, and the fact that she could outplay any of the boys with ease. My heart ached for the soccer field, wishing that I still had the passion that I used to have. But soccer wouldn't have been the same without my dad on the sidelines, cheering me on.

Suddenly Peyton was knocked to the ground by one of the opposing players. Peyton's group of minions all squealed in fright, and Laine Parkin quickly ran into the field, crouching down beside her. Peyton quickly pushed her aside, standing up and brushing off her knees. She clapped hands with the opponent who had pushed her, and we watched as Laine skulked back to the sidelines looking very dejected.

"Okay, so maybe she's a bit gay," Esther said casually, and I began laughing.

It was true that Laine had a noticeable interest in Peyton. Wherever Peyton was, so was she. Peyton had a particular posse of followers, including Laine Parkin. Lisa Morello, the daughter of a rich Italian business man. Katelyn Swindel, the girl labeled as the village bicycle. Siobhan Tetley, girlfriend of the boys soccer team captain. Josie Munro-Smith, fashion magazine model and daughter of the local paper editor. None of these girls were desirable, in my opinion. All of them were terrible people to everyone, not just me, whereas Peyton was decent to everyone except me.

Peyton was the only openly gay person in our year. She was known to have slept with a few girls here and there, but in the years that I had known her she had never been in a relationship. I couldn't even imagine her in a relationship; that would require her to actually possess feelings. I had never seen her hug her friends or show any sort of affection towards anyone. The most I'd seen is a high five, hand-shake, or a slap on the back on the soccer field. She didn't strike me as the affectionate type.

Much to my dismay, I found myself imagining what Peyton would be like in a relationship. Would she like public displays of affection, or would she be more of the private type? Would she spoil her girlfriend with gifts? Would she be faithful? If there was one thing I admired about Peyton, it was the fact that she was open about her sexuality.

To me, sexuality was fluid. I don't think anyone is ever one hundred percent straight, but that's just my opinion. I was raised to believe that love is just that; love. Regardless of gender, regardless of age (legally, of course), regardless of race. Regardless of anything. Love is love.

"Where's your mind gone, Zara?" Esther's voice snapped me out of my daze.

The last thing I was going to do was admit that I had been thinking about Peyton. I hastily tried to think of something that would seem somewhat believable, but I don't think she bought it.

"Oh...sorry," I spoke quickly, shaking my head of my thoughts, "Just thinking about my mum. She's been working so much lately."

Esther's face looked questioning for a moment, before sympathy set in.

"That sucks, Zar. I'm sorry," she said, her hand reaching for my knee comfortingly.

"Yeah, she said the hospital has been really busy lately. Some virus or something, she didn't go into detail. She's been working almost every day, pulling so many double shifts!"

I didn't realise just how much it bothered me until I pretended that it bothered me. Once I started talking about it, I realised just how much I missed my mum. I barely got to spend time with her anymore. After my dad passed away she picked up extra shifts so she could support us. I felt horrible, wanting to get my own job to help ease some financial strain, but she refused. She told me that she didn't want me getting a job while I was in high school, instead prioritising my studies and making the most of what were supposed to be 'the best years of my life'. She wouldn't have assumed these were the best years of my life if she knew about Peyton, though. I had never told her, for two reasons. One, being that I didn't want to worry her. Moving to a new town and starting a new job was stressful enough for her, I didn't want to add the strain of knowing her daughter was disliked by a girl at school for seemingly no reason. And two, what exactly would I have said? 'Mum, a girl doesn't like me,' sounded quite pathetic. So no, I never said anything.

"I think Blake is staring at you," Esther said cheekily, and I let my gaze wander to him.

Blake Thomas, one of the most popular boys in our grade. He was extremely attractive, with tanned skin, dark hair, and caramel eyes. And he was tall, at least 6'3. He was good friends with Nora's boyfriend, Timmy, and therefore friends with Peyton.

"Go and talk to him!" Esther pushed my shoulder lightly.

"Nah, I'm not interested," I replied.

The answer rolled off my tongue without me even thinking about it, but I somehow knew it was true. While he was gorgeous, talented, and a seemingly nice guy, I just wasn't interested. I'd never given a thought to him, or any other guy in our grade to be honest. They just weren't on my radar. Being almost eighteen, they probably should've been on my radar, but they weren't. I'd spent so much time focusing on my school work that I just didn't have time for boys.

"What do you mean you're not interested?" Esther gaped at me, stunned. "He's literally staring right at you!"

She was right, he was. He gave me a small smile which I politely returned, but it quickly vanished from his face as soon as Peyton came into view. She stopped in front of him, looked towards me and then back at him. He quickly turned and walked away.

"Well, there goes that," Esther sighed. "She's such a bitch!"

I shrugged. "I don't really care."

Had I been interested in those boys, I'd probably be fuming. I don't know if Peyton said something to him, or whether he just knew of her dislike towards me. Regardless, she scared him off.

"Ugh, I really don't want to do this assignment tomorrow!" I groaned, throwing my head back against the tree.

"Just think about it this way; the quicker you do it, the quicker you'll get rid of her," Esther said.

"I know, you're right. She's just...impossible!" I threw my hands up, my croissant flying out of my lap and landing on the dirt beside me.

"Ah, fuck. Today sucks," I said with a sigh.

༻✧༺

"Mum, I'm home!" I called out as I walked through the front door.

No reply.

The silence was broken by Dennis bounding down the stairs, skidding across the floorboards as he came hurdling towards me.

"Hi, buddy! Just you and me tonight, I guess!" I cooed, scratching his head as he slobbered over my school skirt.

I walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, opening it and pulling out some leftover vegetarian pizza that my mum hadn't eaten. She had left a note on the kitchen counter telling me that she was working a night shift and wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning. I sighed, crumpling up the note and throwing it away. I missed my old life. I missed when my mum was home when I'd walk through the door after a long day of school. I miss my dad coming to every sporting event, always on the sidelines cheering me on. I missed having dinner with my family every night, telling each other about our days. I missed them, but I would never admit it to my mum. There was nothing she could do.

I spent the rest of the night revising the notes I had written on 'A Midsummer Nights Dream', playing fetch with Dennis in the back garden, and watching horrible reality TV shows. As I climbed into bed at the end of the night, I found myself wondering why on earth I had never been attracted to any of the boys in my grade. It wasn't like they weren't attractive...some of them were gorgeous. I just wasn't interested. The thought was slightly anxiety provoking, but I refused to dwell on it. 'Love is love' I kept repeating in my head, over and over.

'Love is love.'

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net