Author's Notes: This is my first whack at a lesbian story, and if I got anything horribly terribly wrong please let me know. It never actually gets to any real sex, so if you're looking for some down and dirty fun this is not the story for you. It's more of a cute romance than anything else.
Estragon has been a tremendous help to me in the editing process, but I happen to be rather willful. So if you find yourself really getting into the story, that's because he smoothed out the rough edges. When it suddenly seems like a drunken horse clopped the keyboard with his hooves on the keyboard, that's because I defended my art less wisely than well.
All characters are over 18, and can present valid IDs upon request.
I love comments, so please give me feedback, especially helpful feedback. Next up (hopefully) is a BDSM story. Woo!
-PSLL
***
It was the end of the end of high school. All of us in Mrs. Craig's Advanced Placement English class had mentally checked out. The tests had been taken, the college acceptance letters received, and now we were just punching our tickets until Yearbook Day.
Mrs. Craig tried to put a brave face on it, telling us how proud she was, and how she wanted to end the year on a high note. No one was really listening. Our soon-to-be-valedictorian was playing hearts in the back corner while his main "rival" for the position craned her neck to get a good look at his hand. The girl seated across from me was slumped on her desk, cheek resting on her laced fingers as she watched Mrs. Craig with indifferent blue eyes. I was feathering my pencil in my notebook, trying to capture the supple arch of her back.
I had always noticed Cassiella, the girl sitting across from me, even if I had never really interacted with her. We were in most of the same classes, but I pretty much hung out with the Asian clique, while she ran with the metalheads and potsmokers.
She stood out ever since I transferred to this high school in tenth grade. My best friend Mary had talked me and my parents into coming over because of the school's strong academic reputation, and that first day had been a whirlwind of introductions and private giggles. Soon her friends became my friends, but I couldn't stop thinking about all the people on the outside, the ones I never really talked to.
I noticed Cassie that very first day. She was wearing a pale blue long sleeved shirt and jeans, loose brown curls tumbling over her shoulders, and I thought she was very pretty. Mary had told me she hung out with "sketchy" people and that those long sleeves hid scars from years of cutting. The message was loud and clear, but whenever I saw her around I always wondered what her real story was. She didn't display piercings like her disaffected friends, she always seemed to dress a little on the conservative side, and there was something sad about her. Sometimes I wished I could reach out to her, but I never knew how. Mary did all my reaching out for me.
By senior year I heard more rumors about her. That she was bi, that she had been raped, that she put out in the school bathroom. I knew two guys who dated her, but they both seemed eager to trash talk her harder than anyone else. I couldn't believe all those stories about the girl who always smiled and said hi when we met in the halls.
I knew how the rumor mill worked. Once I had ignored my parents' rules and gone to a movie with a guy from the lacrosse team. He'd slipped his arm around me and put his lips on mine. He spent five minutes with his tongue in my mouth, splooging around as I sat there open eyed and tried to enjoy it. I failed, told him it was nice but that I didn't think we should go out again. I found out later most of the lacrosse team thought I had gone down on him in the theater. So I wasn't going to judge Cassie by what other people said about her.
Mrs. Craig finally got to detailing our end of the year project. Nothing fancy, a report with a poster about one of the authors we had studied, and of course treats were "encouraged". The rest of class would be spent figuring out who our partners and subjects would be. As soon as she finished everyone was on their feet, not wanting to be the odd one out in this game of social musical chairs.
My picture of Cassie was interrupted, a hazy feminine outline with a cascade of curls spilling out onto her desk. She was taking her time, putting her books away, probably figuring that she'd do the project with whoever was left. I looked at her, wondering. Then I decided.
It took a moment for her to notice that I was standing by her desk, and she seemed a little startled when she did.
"Oh, hey Sheena..." she started, eyeing me a little curiously.
"Hey Cassie, I was wondering if you wanted to partner up for the project?" I tried to ask like it was the most normal thing in the world, but it was a little weird to be asking to work with someone I hardly knew.
"Um yeah, sure...."
"So do you want anyone in particular or should I just sign us up?"
***
"You're doing it with Cassie?" Mary said, scrunching her nose and shaking her head in an exaggerated gesture of disgust. Everything Mary did was exaggerated. She was the first Chinese girl I had met when my family moved to town and I was drawn to her like everyone was. Her personality was larger than life, all that happiness and energy wrapped into a tiny frame; thin as a stick with a grin as wide as the Mississippi. She'd seen me when I was alone and shy, and made it her business to be my friend and I loved her for it. She could, however, be a real bitch.
We were walking to her car and I hadn't really meant to talk about my choice of English project partner, but the gossip had already got to her. The gossip ALWAYS got to her.
"She's a really good writer. I got her essay for peer review and it was good. "
"But she's weeeeeird," Mary objected, stretching the last word into a cutesy pleading whine. I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.
"Weeeeeeeeeird," Mary simpered again, clearly loving the feel of it in her mouth. We both broke down giggling and I gave her a little push.
"Shad up. She's nice! I mean, she seems nice."
"It's always the 'nice' ones," she intoned with mock solemnity.
"Seriously, what do you have against her?" I asked, feeling just a little defensive.
"I dunno...." she said as we got to the car, pursing her lips and looking at me over the roof. "I just hear things."
"Oh, like no one says anything about you behind your back, you heartbreaker you."
"Psh, no, like, REAL things."
"Like what?" I asked as I got into the car and buckled up. She got into the driver's seat, checking her mirrors.
"Just that she's into some really messed up stuff."
"Drugs? Kinky sex? Bacon flavored coffee?"
"That last one actually sounds good!"
"Oh, now who's the weird one?"
"Just ahead of the curve."
We didn't talk about Cassie the rest of the ride home. EVERYONE had heard the stories.
***
We worked the details out over the phone, and although Cassie immediately offered her place she seemed elated when I offered up mine. I couldn't help conjuring up mental images of her house as some kind of a redneck shack with a barking dog on a chain and beer-swilling dad in a wife beater yelling after her whenever she went out the door.
When my mom heard about Cassie coming over she went into overdrive. I wouldn't say my family is traditional or anything like that, but we do have a very strong sense of appearances. For a returning guest a platter of food would suffice, but a first time visitor? There would be cooking, no two ways about it! Outwardly I played the good Westernized daughter and protested that she was making too big a deal since we'd just be working. Inwardly I was guesstimating how many bao zi I could cram into my mouth before looking like a pig.
By the time the doorbell rang my mom was practically salivating to get her hostess on and I didn't even try to beat her to the door, which she flung wide open.
"Ah! You are Cassie? Come in come in. Sheena is here but you eat a little first? I make bao zi, Chinese, very very good, you try?"
Poor Cassie looked like she had just slammed face first into a solid wall of Chinglish enthusiasm. Which was fair, because she had. She held up her hands, trying to calm my mom. "Oh, no, that's fine, I mean, I'm not really hungry and I already had lunch...."
"Oh no, she's right, you have to try at least one. They're small," I said, putting a hand on my mom's shoulder as I stepped around the door. "Just a little snack."
"Well okay," said Cassie, collecting herself after my mom's verbal shock and awe. We went to the kitchen and grabbed the plate with arranged, still hot bao zi and each had one, making sure to thank my mom and tell her how good they were before we took the rest up to my room to work.
"So your mom's pretty intense," Cassie observed, looking over her shoulder as she shut the door, as though my mom might be lurking even now.
"Yeah, I think she gets lonely. Her English isn't that great and you know it's a long way from China," I said with an apologetic half-smile.
"Oh no! Not like it's a bad thing, it's cute, and those pot stickers are REALLY good."
"Yeah... It's why I'm always scheming to get people over here to make her cook!" I smiled and rubbed my hands together in an appropriately sinister way. Cassie snorted and shook her head, a little smile teasing across her lips. She really did have a pretty smile.
