Day 4: Metamorphosis

30 Day Writing Challenge

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Like clockwork Diana walks into chem class everyday 3 minutes before the bell rings. She sits in her usual spot in the third row with her friend Beth. When there’s a group assignment, though, Beth turns around and pairs up with her boyfriend Joe…this leaves Diana looking around the room for an open partner. She spots Chanel sitting in the furthest row to the back and starts to walk over. Chanel nods at her and nudges the seat towards Diana, who smiles shyly as she sits down. Sometimes the chemical beakers aren’t quite in the middle of the table and Diana has to lean towards Chanel to pour in the ingredients. Sometimes it seems she blushes faintly when her shoulder casually brushes up against Chanel, it’s hard to tell.

I wouldn’t say Diana and Chanel are “friends.” They play soccer together and are sometimes at the same parties, but Diana has her set of friends and Chanel has hers. They do seem to make good lab partners though, I will say that much. After chem class they drift away into their respective friend groups, where Diana finds her best friend Diego for lunch. They always go to Taco Bombs for lunch, I’m not sure if it’s Diana or Diego who has the taco obsession. Diana and Diego have a special bond, an unspoken language that is easier observed than pronounced.

They’ve been notably hanging out less ever since Diego started dating Charlie…not sure when they started dating but it was a no brainer after Charlie was outted by his ex-boyfriend when he saw him with Diego one day. I guess we all sort of knew already. It’s like we all knew Sarah and Jessie were dating even though they told the whole soccer team they weren’t lesbians and they both had boyfriends outside of school. None of us really cared but I get it…Sarah is kind of “bigger” and Jessie is this petit, cute little thing, so people start to automatically pigeonhole them into butch and femme stereotypes. Eww, why has society decided that gay men are fabulous and lesbians are manly, men hating, penis envying, cheap, turds?

When Diana walks into the locker room she makes sure not to make eye contact with anyone. She is pretty quiet in there and gets dressed with her head down. She could be shy….or she doesn’t want to get caught staring. There is nothing worse than unsolicited labels in high school. Honestly, even solicited ones can ruin you. I know Diana isn’t shy, but what is she then?

The next day, we all learn the time and place of the spring formal. It’s a big deal at our school, not to mention a huge competition on who gets asked first. If you aren’t asked to formal within the first week, your officially a nobody, unless you were already a nobody, then it doesn’t matter. Diana is expected to get asked to formal within hours of the announcement, she used to go with Diego every year but now that he’s taken, the guys are just itching to ask her. By third period, I’d heard she already turned down two unfortunate souls.

Now it’s 4th period, chem class. Right on time she walks in 3 minutes before the bell. Beth is sitting in her usual seat but the one next to her is taken. Joe. Diana turns a crimson red color, as if her freckles were burning little holes into her face. She looks up and scans the room. She sees Chanel in her usual seat and starts walking towards her. Chanel nudges the seat next to her and Diana smiles with her head down, talking a seat.

It feels like time might be accelerating or not moving at all, I can’t tell. It’s senior year, there is not that much to lose at this point, so I go for it….

“Hey, Diana, uhm, so….formal right? (Awkward chuckle) You going? I mean, I’m sure you’re going. What if we went together? Uhm, as friends.”

I didn’t think it was possible but she turned a deeper shade of red, I must have offended her. All those years she avoided having to reject people and now she has no other option.

“Oh, uhm, as friends?” I stare in her general direction, careful not to make eye contact as I nod my head slowly.

“Uhm, well…uhm, Chanel, the thing is…” Here it comes. “The thing is, I was going to see if you wanted to go to the dance, not as friends. I mean, like, a date. I mean do you want to date me, I mean go on a date with me, to the dance, with me. You know what I mean, right?”

Taco BOMBSHELL. Diana—goddess of my existence—wants to go to the dance, the LAST dance of her high school experience with me. Not. As. Friends. And poof, just like that, my whole life makes sense.

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