Girl Hearts Girl

by Lucy Sutcliffe

  He was good friends with a lot of my friends (he’d also been there to witness my falling-into-cow-poo incident in PE all those years ago), so when I saw that we’d been put in the same English class for Year 11, I was relieved. The class was loud and intimidating, so I was happy to have someone I knew by my side. While I was quiet, Nathan was outspoken – perhaps our teacher thought we’d balance each other out. We made a good pair, sitting right at the back of the classroom; poking fun at each other and gossiping.

  One evening, I was in my bedroom watching TV when Nathan texted me out of the blue, asking about our English homework. I thought it was odd – I’d seen him write the homework details down in his planner – but I explained it to him anyway. A few minutes later, he replied.

  Thanks. How are you, anyway?

  I paused. Small talk was unusual, coming from Nathan.

  I’m good. How are you?

  I’m OK, I think, he shot back. But can I ask you a question?

  Sure.

  What was he about to ask me that was so important? It seemed pretty serious, whatever it was. My phone beeped suddenly, making me jump. I looked down at the screen.

  What do you find attractive about guys?

  I frowned. I’d never talked about boys with Nathan – that was one of the reasons I got along so well with him. I thought about just ignoring the text, but I felt bad, so I just reeled off a spiel of stereotypical qualities that I thought sounded appealing – tall, dark, handsome, intelligent – the kind of guys my friends talked about. I pressed send, sighing. I felt unsettled – lying to my friends was getting more and more uncomfortable.

  Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. I glanced at the clock, confused. Nathan usually replied within minutes. I read back over what I’d written. Had I said something offensive? I stared at my phone keyboard, chewing my lip.

  How about you? I wrote, tentatively. What do you find attractive about women?

  Another half an hour passed before my phone beeped again. I looked down at the screen, and my heart stopped.

  Luce, I think I’m gay.

  Everything around me seemed to slow down. I stared at my phone, lost for words. Nathan was … gay? Now he mentioned it … it all made sense. Nathan never talked about girls. But … wow. I was almost embarrassed that I hadn’t ever considered it. A sense of strange relief washed over me. It felt amazing, knowing that he’d trusted me enough to confess something so personal. But what would happen now? My thoughts were whirling around my head at a hundred miles an hour. If he was gay, had he noticed that I might be, too? Should I tell him how much I was struggling? How confused and isolated I felt?

  No. Not now. I wasn’t ready, I told myself. Not yet. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. With shaking hands, I wrote out a short reply.

  Wow, how long have you known? That’s really awesome, Nate! I love you no matter what, OK? I’m so proud of you.

  I sat on the edge of my bed, heart pounding. I couldn’t keep still; my hands and feet were twitching and I felt restless, energetic even, like I was ready to run a marathon.

  My phone beeped again.

  Thanks, Luce, I knew I could count on you with this. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.

  I swallowed, put the phone on the table beside me and stretched out on my bed. I stared at the patterns on the ceiling, trying to relax, but my mind was reeling. What did this mean for me? I wondered whether he wanted to tell our friends. I secretly hoped he would. If he did, I’d be able to see their reaction, and then maybe I could consider telling them about how much I was struggling, too? That is, if they took it well enough…

  I picked up my phone. Did I really want to declare anything at this point? All of a sudden, it felt very, very real. I put my phone back down. What the hell was I thinking? This was Nathan’s time to shine, not mine. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t even know what this was yet.

  Except that you’re definitely not straight … the voice in my head shouted.

  When I saw Nathan at the school gates the next morning, he looked paler than usual. He was fiddling nervously with the strap on his bag as I approached.

  “Hi, Nathan!”

  “Hey! Listen, I think I’m gonna tell everybody today.”

  I nodded, trying to hide my surprise. Already? That was quick.

  As we walked to English together, we talked it over. He told me he’d known for ages, but that he’d been in denial for years. He’d thought he was bisexual at first, but realized pretty early on that he had no feelings for girls whatsoever. I listened intently. Every word hit me like a ton of bricks. He was describing exactly the way I had felt.

  As we got to our English classroom, I pushed all of my thoughts away and tried to focus on the lesson. We were studying Of Mice and Men, taking turns to read aloud from the book, analysing the themes – but all I could do was sit there and analyse myself. I felt so stupid sitting next to Nathan, too scared to say anything, too nervous to speak up. I envied his bravery, and his ability to be himself in the face of fear. I wanted desperately to have that same courage. I wondered whether I’d ever be able to do what he was about to do.

  Finally, during break, Nathan told the rest of our friends. I could see the relief on his face as soon as he’d uttered the words. His hands were shaking, but his voice was steady.

  “With all due respect, Nate, I’ve known you were gay since I met you,” Emily laughed, shaking her head with a smile.

  Bel was laughing, too. “We love you no matter what – but I’m sure you know that already!”

  Nathan was grinning from ear to ear. As the bell rang and we all went our separate ways, I realized that my friends hadn’t cared in the slightest. What did that mean for me? Surely they’d react the same way?

  As Becci and I were walking to the school bus that afternoon after our PE lesson, I spotted Nathan coming out of the double doors behind us. I waved at him and he hurried over to us.

  As he got closer, I could see he was trying not to cry.

  “I hate them,” he whispered, his bottom lip wobbling.

  Becci and I pulled him away from the crowd, confused. “What’s wrong?” Becci asked worriedly.

  “The boys in my PE class,” he spluttered. “Th-th-they were even worse than usual. They spent the whole lesson calling me homophobic names. And Greg Spaulding started following me around, shouting stuff, throwing things at me … I – I just can’t believe how horrible they are. That lot think they can lord it over us, and it’s only because they’re so popular that they think they can get away with it. It never stops with them…”

  He trailed off, blinking back tears. Greg Spaulding, amongst many others in the “popular” gang, was always making jibes at Nathan. Usually he just ignored them – their insults were pathetic, after all – but it was clear Greg had overstepped the mark this time.

  “How DARE they?” Becci shouted, making people around us stop and stare. “I can’t believe they think they can get away with that.”

  Nathan nodded. “God, sometimes I just can’t wait to get out of here.”

  I hugged him. “Nathan, I absolutely promise you that in five years’ time, you’ll be in a high-flying job having the time of your life, and they’ll have disappeared into nothingness. They’ll probably still be living in this stupid town, going nowhere, and they’ll look at you and realize how wrong they were. I promise.”

  Seeing my friends react the way they did had reassured me that they would love me no matter what I told them. We would protect Nathan and I knew that eventually, they would protect me, too. All I had to work on now was figuring out who I was … and how to be OK with that.

  Exams were finally over, and now all we could do was wait for the results and hope for the best. I tried my hardest not to think about what grades I would get – after all, worrying wasn’t going to help. Until then, I was determined to relax.

  Year 11 was coming to an end, which meant only one thing: the esteemed Year 11 Prom. My friends and I had planned to go t
ogether as a big group, but out of the blue, Emily’s friend Josh Barrington asked her if she would go with him, and then Bel was asked by Dean Hillier.

  To my surprise, Luke Curtis asked me to go with him.

  From the very beginning, there was a misunderstanding between us. I’d never really spoken to Luke before, so I assumed he wanted to go just as friends. He seemed nice enough – he was always smiling, and he was a very hard worker (I’d heard rumours that he never got lower than A grades in his exams). I accepted his offer, not thinking much of it.

  “He probably has a crush on you, fool!” said Emily when I told her. “So are you gonna go with him?”

  “Oh god, really? I already said yes, Em!”

  “Well do you like him?!”

  “As a friend, yeah. He seems cool. But no further than that!”

  Emily laughed. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

  And so, just like that, I found myself going to Prom with a boy. I tried hard not to worry, convincing myself that Emily had been joking about the crush. Luke and I barely knew each other. I pushed it to the back of my mind.

  On the evening of Prom, my friends came over to my house and we all got ready together. We primped and preened in front of my bedroom mirror, doing our hair and make-up, perfecting our lipstick, sticking on precarious fake eyelashes and pouting, snapping photos. Getting all glammed up was so exciting. We practised our catwalks in my cramped living room, tottering around in our high heels, sipping on glasses of champagne which my mum had prepared for us (“You get one glass each, I don’t want to get into trouble!”).

  Clare’s mum drove us there, and as we all bundled out of the car at the school gates, we could see a crowd of people in the distance. Everyone looked so glamorous in their ballgowns and three-piece suits. We walked through the crowd and a bunch of different people I’d never really spoken to before complimented me on my dress and shoes, smiling and waving like I was an old friend. All of our teachers were there, too – some of them looking unrecognizable out of their work attire. They clapped and cheered us on as we walked down the red carpet. It felt like we were attending some kind of premiere.

  Once inside, I spotted Melissa in the corner with her friends. She was dressed in a floor-length purple gown, with big, fluttery eyelashes and bright red lipstick. Her hair was pinned elegantly back out of her face. She looked beautiful. She grinned at me and waved. I waved back, dazed. My feelings for her had faded completely, but there was no denying how captivating she was.

  “Lucy! Hey, Lucy!” A distant voice dragged me out of my daydream. I turned around, feeling disorientated.

  Luke was walking towards me, clutching a rose. His cheeks flushed as he handed it to me. All of a sudden, guilt crashed over me like a tidal wave. Up until that moment, I’d forgotten all about him.

  I smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to do. “Thank you so much! Wow. It’s so beautiful!”

  Luke grinned. “Look, I matched my tie to your dress!”

  In a desperate bid to rid myself of my guilt, I grabbed my friends, and Luke, and headed to the dance floor. We horsed around like idiots, jiving with each other, acting like kids. Every now and then I glanced over at Luke, who was doing the Macarena with Emily’s date, Josh. They were laughing uproariously. My conscience was eased just a little. As the night wore on, Luke drifted away to dance with other people. He hadn’t tried to dance with me once. I desperately hoped he wasn’t upset, and that he’d somehow got the message I wasn’t interested. I kept accidentally catching Melissa’s eye and looking away, embarrassed, hoping she hadn’t seen me blushing.

  At the end of the night, our little group – Emily, Bel, Kat, Clare, Becci, and I – went back to Clare’s house for a sleepover. We were buzzing. We’d danced our socks off and laughed so loudly that most of us had lost our voices.

  As we got in the front door, Clare’s mum presented us with doughnuts, cupcakes and mugs of hot chocolate. We all squealed, rushing into the kitchen, clutching our high heels in our hands.

  We sat at Clare’s dining table, munching our snacks, gossiping about the evening.

  “So Emily, do you think you’re into Josh?” Kat asked.

  “Nah. Josh’s great and all, but I just see him as a friend,” Emily said, sipping on her cocoa.

  “It’s the same with Luke,” I said quickly. “I felt bad all evening – I mean, he brought me a rose, you guys! But I just don’t see him in that way.”

  “Awww!” everyone said in unison, giggling.

  “I think you’d break his little heart if you told him that!” Kat said, offering me the last cupcake.

  “I just … I don’t think I want a boyfriend right now, you know?” I laughed, nervously.

  There was a pause.

  “Oh no, I’m exactly the same, don’t worry,” said Clare. I wanted to hug her.

  “Me too,” Becci chimed in. “I don’t want one until I’ve finished university … boys are too much work!”

  We all laughed.

  Clare bit her lip thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’d like to start a career before I focus on getting a boyfriend, to be honest. Priorities and all that!”

  “Yeah, boyfriends come second!” Bel chortled. “Well, boyfriend, lover, whatever you wanna call them.”

  My heart stopped. I knew this was my chance. I made a split-second decision.

  “Agreed,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Who cares what gender, anyway?”

  I was stunned by what had just come out of my mouth. I sat stock still, holding my breath.

  Nobody batted an eyelid.

  “As long as they cook me dinner every night, I don’t care who it is!” Bel joked, reaching for another doughnut. Everyone laughed again.

  A wave of relief washed over me like a warm bath. In an instant, my exhaustion evaporated, and I stood up, suddenly restless, raring to go. I pulled on my fluffy socks and started shimmying across the kitchen floor like Michael Jackson. Clare, who was laughing so hard she had to hold on to the countertop to stay upright, joined me. We pranced around the kitchen, twirling like ballerinas, and soon enough, everyone joined in, sashaying across the floor in our pyjamas and slippers. I was elated. They didn’t care! I mean, of course they didn’t – no one had been bothered when Nathan came out – but something about that moment felt so life-affirming. It felt real, it felt concrete, and it felt good.

  As we snuggled down in the living room that night under duvets, blankets and sleeping bags, I fell asleep feeling happier than I had done in ages. What an incredible evening it had been. A weight, however small, had been lifted off of my shoulders. Year 11 was ending on a high.

  A few weeks later, when our exam results were finally posted, I was relieved to see that, despite my endless worrying and sleepless nights, I had secured myself a place in Sixth Form.

  I was about to begin a new chapter of my life. It scared me a little that in just two short years, I might be attending university, but I knew I could do anything if I set my mind to it. I felt more prepared than ever for my next step.

  A whole year had passed. The end of Year 12 was imminent, and our workload had increased tenfold. A-levels were fast-approaching, and we were swamped with revision. I could feel my inner Hermione kicking in. I loved how, even several years after finishing the Harry Potter books, an imaginary character was still propelling me to work my hardest. I felt like she was my secret weapon.

  Every second that we didn’t spend studying, we felt guilty. Our walks home from the school bus each evening were our only moments of true freedom. We’d walk as slowly as possible, staring up at the clear blue sky, drinking it all in while we could. As soon as we got home, we had to get back to work.

  As Emily and I were ambling home one evening, we decided to take a detour through the fields. We sprinted through the tall grass, sweatshirts tied loosely around our waists, school bags swinging. Flies circled lazily over the glistening tarmac, and the smell of freshly cut grass wafted past us on the warm breeze. We could see
our little village in the distance, a hazy mirage of blistering heat. An ice-cream van pootled past us, its cheery little melody piercing the sluggish air. We watched it lurch around the corner, weaving its way through the narrow country roads.

  We struggled on up the hill, sweaty from the heat, until eventually, we reached the Church Green. From here, you could see Emily’s house – and to the left, down a side street, was mine.

  “God, I hate exams,” Emily sighed, defeated. “It’s so typical that we have to be stuck indoors. We’re nearly eighteen for goodness’ sake. We should be out partying!”

  I laughed. “Just a few more weeks, and we’ll be free. We have the rest of the summer for partying!”

  Emily nodded, sadly. “True, true. OK, I’m off to torture myself with eighteenth-century Russian history!”

  We said our goodbyes and parted ways.

  My house was the first on the left, a mismatched jumble of yellowing, crumbled bricks and a battered-looking Volvo in the driveway. A small family of nesting wood pigeons had made themselves a home in amongst the roof tiles, but today they were basking in the shade of the front lawn, cooing softly as I made my way up the path.

  “Hey, Dad!” I said as I shut the door behind me. “It’s so nice outside … shame I have to do stupid revision.”

  Dad handed me a cup of tea with a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t you take a break this evening, love? You need some time to breathe a little, or you’ll go mad!”

  I sighed. He was right – one evening off wouldn’t hurt.

  I padded up to my bedroom, exhausted. I watched TV for a little bit, then opened up my laptop. I scrolled down my Facebook newsfeed listlessly. I felt strangely restless and unsettled. Frustrated, I switched to Twitter in search of a distraction.

  As the page loaded, I turned to look out of the window. The sky had faded from blue into a deep, intense shade of crimson, and the air had cooled a little. Fluffy indigo clouds stretched upwards and outwards endlessly, casting a fierce shadow against the ghostly half-moon. Dusk was creeping in, so I opened my window a little wider, welcoming the breeze against my skin. For a short while, I simply sat there, watching the dappled evening sunlight sparkle and dance across the rooftops.