The Stereotype

Oh my god, I am such a freaking stereotype. I was born in China, but my American parents adopted me when I was still a baby. I like to think I was given up by a couple who had too many children and nobly gave me away to loving parents rather than see me put to death. For all I know they just wanted a boy.

My parents, which is what I call the people who raised me - I mean the people who are there to change your diapers, wipe your tears, and kiss your boo boos are your parents, no matter who gave birth to you - brought me home to grow up in North Carolina. I'll give you three guesses what they named me. That's right, it's Lilly. Technically, it's Lillian, but everybody calls me Lilly because, really, what else can you call an adopted Chinese-American girl.

When I'm not making straight A's in school (math is my favorite subject), I do gymnastics. I'm also naturally shy. Practically the only thing anomalous about me is my southern accent.

So, to recount, I'm a quiet Chinese girl named Lilly who makes good grades and does super bendy gymnastics - and I just rear ended a car at a stoplight. I might as well get a job doing pedicures. I swear, if this guy's a lawyer I'm going to stab myself in the gut with a sword.

"I'm so sorry," I said, getting out of the car. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not hurt. Are you okay," asked the driver.

"I think so. I'm so sorry about your car."

"It happens. Tell you what, let's pull into the parking lot over there and check out the damage. It looks like we're backing up traffic." He was right. A line of impatient looking vehicles was currently looking for an opening to snake around us.

I pulled, very carefully, into the parking lot of a burger place next to the road. The other driver was already standing behind his car looking at his rear bumper when I eased my car ever so gently into a parking spot, leaving an open space between my car and his.

"You look familiar," said the driver. "What's your name?"

"Lillian. Lillian Speight."

"Lillian Speight," he said, as if tasting the words, trying to place a familiar spice. "Lilly Speight? You're friends with my daughter Hannah right? Hannah Miller?"

OMG! I did not just rear end Hannah Miller's dad! "Yes, sir. We're friends. We're both on the dance team at school."

It's true, we were both on the dance team, but Hannah was the star. While I had started out in gymnastics and stumbled into dance as a way to improve my floor routine, Hannah Miller had been following her dream of being a professional dancer as long as I'd known her. She took dance at two other studios in addition to classes at school, had a room dedicated to storing trophies from dance competitions, and was on her way to the North Carolina Academy of Fine Arts in the fall. She was also one of the sweetest, most adventurous people I had ever met and drop dead gorgeous.

"So, funny I should bump into you like this," I said, groaning inwardly at my pathetic attempt at a joke.

"Ha! That's cute," said Mr. Miller, more politely than I deserved. "Look, it was just a small tap. I don't even see a scratch on my car or yours. What do you say we just forget about it?"

"Are you sure? I mean, that would be great, but.."

"I'm sure. Like I said, no harm was done and, frankly, I need to get going. I'm pretty sure Hannah will know how to find you if I see anything later, but I don't think that will be necessary."

"Wow, okay. Thank you Mr. Miller."

"No problem," he said, getting back in his car. "Good luck in Myrtle Beach this weekend! Oh, and be careful driving the rest of the way to school, okay?"

"I will. Thanks again!"

Careful? I barely reached the speed limit the rest of the way to school and kept at least two car lengths between me and the next car. Of course, by the time I got to school it was time for first bell. I grabbed my bookbag out of the passenger seat and started running, jumping over the low chain fence at the edge of the parking lot. Just as my front foot reached the ground, my back foot caught the chain and I went tumbling to the ground. Grace and poise, thy name is Lilly.

***

"Oh my god! What happened?"

Miss Crystal was the new dance teacher. She was currently ogling at me with her mouth wide open while I hobbled into the dance room on crutches, trying to hide the fact that what she really wanted to know is whether or not I would be able to dance this weekend. We were travelling to Myrtle Beach for a dance competition, and it was pretty late to reorganize everyone around the hole my absence would leave. I had twisted my ankle pretty bad when I tripped over the fence. I had spent all of first period in the school nurse's office, and was now limping in late to my second period dance class.

"I twisted my ankle. I was late for school this morning, and I tripped over the parking lot fence trying to run to class."

"Oh no! How bad is it? Can I get you some ice?"

"It hurts, but the nurse says it's just a sprain. I've actually been icing it for the past hour, so I just need to rest. I'm probably going to have to sit out of practice today if that's okay."

"Absolutely. Here, let me help you sit down. Girls, can you bring a couple of chairs out of my office so Lilly can keep her ankle elevated?"

Hannah Miller brought over one of the chairs, her long dark hair pulled up into a loose bun. Her tights and halter top would have gotten her sent home for dress code violations in any other class. "You were late for school? That's not like you."

"Funny story, actually. I was in a car accident on the way here."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. In fact, I rear ended your dad."

"No!"

"Afraid so. It was just a tap on his bumper at the stop light in front of Burger Hut. He was really sweet about it. He said no harm was done and we should just forget about it."

"Hmm," Hannah said with narrowed eyes. "It was probably his fault. It's just like him to notice the light at the last minute and slam on brakes."

"No, trust me. It was all my fault. Like I said, he was really great about it."

"Maybe, but I'm going to take care of you today, just in case."

"You don't have to do that," I protested.

"Nonsense," Hannah said with a smile. "I am, for the extent of your injury, your servant. Seriously, you're going to need help with your books, and it will give me an excuse to be late for class. Let me be your bitch."

"Sure," I laughed. "I could use some help with my bag. You can be my bitch."

***

True to her word, Hannah came over right after changing clothes. She was now in jeans and a loose purple shirt, her hair in loose curls falling even with her pert little boobs. She picked up both of our bookbags and still managed to hold the door for me as I hobbled along on my crutches. After we got outside she looked at me with one of her famous million watt smiles. "You know, I don't think you really need those crutches." With that, she tossed the bags ahead of us, flipped over, and started walking on her hands beside me with her feet in the air. "See, who needs feet?"

I ask you, how's a person supposed to wallow in misery next to that?

"So," Hannah asked, her head level with my knees, "do you think you'll be able to dance this weekend?"

"Of course I will. You don't think I'll let the team down over a little thing like a sprained ankle do you?"

"Fierce!" said Hannah, executing a perfect back walkover onto her feet and sweeping up our bags. "You are so tough! You're like a dance dragon!"

Okay, so the Chinese girl should probably be offended by the dance dragon comment. But look at that smile! Nothing offensive comes from a smile like that.

***

A couple of days later, Miss Crystal came over to me while the other girls were warming up. I was still on crutches and now had a removable splint strapped to my leg.

"Hey Lilly, didn't you go to the doctor yesterday? How's the ankle?"

"Yeah. The doctor confirmed it's just a sprain. No break. I'm supposed to take it easy and wear this splint or a brace. He said I could dance on it if I could deal with the pain, though, so I'm still planning to dance this weekend.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to make it worse."

Was I sure? Of course I was. Among the certainties of life are death, taxes, and that someone at every dance competition will have a knee or ankle injury. Dancers and gymnasts learn to deal with pain.

"It's okay," I said. "The doctor said it will delay the healing process, but it won't cause any more damage."

"Okay," said Miss Crystal. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure. I want to do it."

"Oh! What a trooper you are," she said, giving me a big hug. I swear, I think she was tearing up a little.

"Okay everyone," Miss Crystal announced to the rest of the class. "I have the room assignments for this weekend. Remember, it's four to a room and two to a bed, so listen up. In room one, we have Emma, Ava, Hannah, and Lilly. In room two, it's..."

I never heard the rest. I was going to be sharing a room with Hannah. Also, since Emma and Ava had been practically joined at the hip since elementary school, there was a pretty good chance I was going to be sharing a bed with Hannah. What's the big deal with that, you ask? She seems like a perfectly nice person. Well, in case you haven't picked up on it yet, I think Hannah is a very special person. She's the kind of person who can light up a room with her smile. She's the kind of person who can make me laugh when I want to cry. She's the kind of person who makes my heart race when she's near me. In short, I have a serious crush on Hannah Miller.

So, let's recount once again just to catch up. I, a lesbian, am going to be spending two nights sleeping in the same bed with a girl I have the hots for. A straight girl.

"Hey, roomie! Isn't it great?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Hannah came over to hug me. How does she always smell so good in dance class?

"Y-yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Great."

"Y-y-y-yeah," she teased. "Seriously, though, be prepared. I like to cuddle."

Oh dear lord.

***

Myrtle Beach was about a three hour drive from home. As usual, I spent the majority of the trip in the back seat of my parents' car streaming music through my headphones. No buses for the dance team. It's not like we were anything important like football or anything. After helping me get my luggage to my room, my parents headed to their own room so the dancers could have our "bonding" time. I suspect my parents used the opportunity of a weekend with their own hotel room for some bonding of their own, but let's not go there. Ew.

Step one of bonding time was a team dinner the night before the big competition. We all walked, though I guess I technically hobbled, to a local burger place a block from the beach. That's right, burgers. Don't think these skinny bitches get by on salads. Dancers gotta eat!

I've got to admit, dinner was really fun, and I did actually feel closer to all the girls afterwards. We see each other every day at school, but classes aren't exactly conducive to socialization. Even lunch tends to be filled with as much cramming for the test next period or finishing up last night's homework as sharing time with your peer group. Hanging out in a less formal setting like a loud, crowded restaurant was a great way to decompress and got everyone to open up. On the walk back to the hotel afterwards, we even spontaneously broke into one of our dances on the sidewalk, then laughed when a rubbernecking bicycle rider almost ran into a tree. When the light started to change at the crosswalk, a couple of the girls actually picked me up and carried me across the street while Hannah held my crutches out in front of the stopped cars like riot police holding back an unruly crowd. I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

Back in the room was more of the same, just with smaller groups. Now, I know guys want to believe it's all pillow and tickle fights in our underwear, and that's just not the case. However, it is a lot of stuff we'd be embarrassed to do around guys. Imagine faces covered in skin cream and Heads Up! on cell phones and you're a bit closer. I gotta say, though, if you ever have a chance to be a fly on the wall while Hannah Miller tries to act out movie titles without speaking, you should definitely do it. It is hilarious and, yes, often sexier than it sounds.

Eventually, though, Ms. Vicky put an end to bonding time. We were here for a competition after all, and we needed sleep if we didn't want to suck. For the others in the room, lights out time was met with disappointment. For me, it was a mixture of both excitement and fear. I was about to sleep with Hannah.

Now, you might think this problem would have come up before. I mean, it's not like I spent 18 years on this planet and never had a sleepover. Of course I had. I even shared a bed with another girl, plenty of times. It's just that I'd never had feelings for that girl before. I didn't even realize that I was gay until recently, and it's not like I can't share a bed with someone without wanting to fuck them. It's just, you know, Hannah. This was a girl I had actually fantasized about. This was a girl whose face had filled my mind when my fingers filled my pants, and I was about to be pressed up against her in the dark for 8 long hours. And she told me she wanted to cuddle! There was a part of me that wanted to show her everything that cuddling could be. A part of me couldn't wait to see what her body felt like against mine, to find out which parts were firm and which parts were so, so soft.

The rest of me was acutely aware that Hannah would NOT be into it the way I would. That part quietly reminded me of what a violation it would be for me to get my joys on some unsuspecting, innocent girl. It whispered of the hurt I would cause her and the embarrassment that would follow when everyone realized what I had done. What I was.

I just couldn't do it. I couldn't be the girl who would do that to someone who didn't want it. So, while everyone else climbed into bed in their short little sleep shorts and t-shirts, I decked myself out in full on pajamas. I couldn't see a way out of sharing the bed, but the least I could do was make sure there would be no skin to skin contact. I got into bed first, facing away from Hannah's side, and got as far from the middle of the bed as I could without falling off. When Hannah climbed in, though, she immediately snuggled up right against my back and spooned me like I was a body pillow. I could feel her legs against mine, her firm little breasts on my back, her warm breath against my neck.

"Come here, roomie," she said. "It's cold in here."

Not for me it wasn't.

***

I woke up to the sound of a hair dryer. This was performance day for the dance team, and my roommates were already getting ready. Hopefully they all got more sleep than the few fitful hours I did. After a while, I had decided to just relax and enjoy Hannah holding me. After all, it's not like we were doing anything wrong. Girls sleep together like this all the time. Plus, she was holding me. It's not like I was molesting the girl. It didn't mean anything. We're just friends snuggling, sharing our warmth, huddling together against the dark. It wasn't sexual, just intimate. Close. Warm. Comfortable. Her arm draped across my stomach. She could easily move it just a bit higher, cupping my breast. Or lower.

Boom! Awake again.

Eventually, Hannah had roller over to her other side. She tugged me gently, silently asking me to hold her the way she had held me. I resisted, feinting sleep. I swear I heard her whimper in disappointment, but maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to hear. We spent the rest of the night back to back. I dozed off and on, but kept thinking about how easy it would be to just roll over, wondering how much I could get away with while she slept. What if my hands were to accidentally wander? What would she feel like beneath my hands?

So, yeah, not much sleep for me.

Showering helped to wake me, as did the food Ms. Crystal brought to our room. Also, even though I wouldn't say I still get nervous, exactly, there is still a bit of a rush the day of a competition. That's how I knew I'd be able to dance on my sore ankle. The adrenaline would numb the pain until after the performance was over. That's when it would start to hurt.

If you've never been to a dance competition, here's what it's like. A bunch of girls dressed in outfits their fathers would never let them wear anywhere else sit in a room, hallway, or any available open space where they won't get stepped on, put about 10,000 bobby pins in their hair, apply way too much makeup, stretch, snack on sugary foods, practice turns, back bends, and acrobatic tricks, and try to find some mental focus while overly loud music blares through a wall. You run over a routine in your head that you've spent literally months practicing and perfecting, making sure you remember everything, listening to your teacher's reminders of the last minute changes in the choreography so you don't turn left the way you've been doing for six months and instead turn right like you decided yesterday would be easier or just look better. Your parents spend hundreds if not thousands of dollars on training, costumes, entry fees, and travel. Finally, you're back stage. The number assigned to your dance comes up on a screen, so you bite your nails backstage, waiting for your turn. Then, they announce the name of your song, you walk up on stage and, three minutes later, you're done. Six months of practice, three minutes of performance, one shot to get it right. And then you wait. You wait for everyone else to get their three minutes. You wait for someone to tally the judges scores. You wait while every single group gets their grade, or "adjudication" in dance terms, and receives their ribbon or trophy. Finally, the overall high scores are announced, pictures are made, and everyone goes home.

We received double titanium adjudications, by the way, and just missed placing in the overalls. Not bad for an academic school going up against actual dance studios. Ms. Crystal gave us all hugs and we all plastered smiles on our faces while our parents took pictures. Then we all went back to our rooms, cleaned off our makeup, pulled down our hair, and changed into real clothes.

By this time, my ankle was really throbbing. We were done for the weekend, so we had nothing but free time now. Several of the girls, including my roommates decided to go down to the boardwalk, take in the sights, and ride the skywheel. I told them I didn't feel up to it. They all looked very sad, said it wouldn't be the same without me, and then took off to have their fun.

As much as I enjoy being with my friends, I was actually relieved to see them go. My emotional turmoil from the sleeping arrangement with Hannah had led to some altogether more physical turmoil between my legs. In short, I was horny. Plus, we still had one more night together. I was hoping maybe a little me time would take the edge off and make it easier to get through the night.

I laid back on the bed and let my mind wander. Here in my imagination, I could let go of the guilt my feelings awoke in me in the real world. In my mind, I couldn't overstep any boundaries or hurt any feelings. There were no whispers behind my back, no looks of revulsion or shock. I imagined Hannah in our dance. As beautiful as she is standing still, she's simply breathtaking in motion. The way her body moves in rhythm to the music, the way she stretches through every movement, elongating and undulating, in a costume designed to display every line, every curve. After last night, I could do more than just see her in my mind's eye. I could actually imagine what she might feel like. I knew how warm she was, how her soft skin enveloped the firm muscles beneath, what her breath felt like on the back of my neck.