I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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Bass rumbled the hardwood floor and vibrated through the thin soles of my shoes. I stood by the fridge pretending I was okay with this party. It was overcrowded, rowdy and nobody respected Jamie's house - especially not him. I wanted to shut the music off, send everyone home and crawl into bed with a hot water bottle resting against my uterus but I couldn't because that would mean Jamie won.
"This is a disaster." Cam spoke next to me, he handed me a plastic champagne flute filled with pink fizzy liquid inside. "We're gonna get the blame for this you know? When they come home and find their house has been trashed by drunken teenagers they're not going to point the finger at the angels they birthed."
"I'm aware." He bounced off, probably to hide away from the crowd. I took sips from the cup and watched Arlo from a distance.
He had his arm slung around Lexis shoulder sloppily and my heart sank.
She was tall, confident and stunning. It was clear she had a real sense of who she was and where she belonged in the world.
Her crystal clear skin was dressed in blended makeup, high definition brows and Smokey eyelids. She had a piercing though her nose and an individual style that rocked. She had to be an illusion, nobody was that perfect.
I gave up torturing myself with the sight of them and followed Cameron up to his bedroom. He had confiscated a lot of the drink and was having a party for one.
"Can I hang with you?" I asked, walking into his room uninvited and flipping miserably down onto his bed. He sat up and gave me a welcome smile, then handed me a drink.
We sat upstairs for hours, keeping away from everyone and drinking on our own. It was honestly perfect. I told him all about my past, the houses I've lived in, some of the shittier times as well as some of the best times. He shared his own stories with me and we really connected in a genuine way.
"So how did you actually end up in care?" I asked, feeling a little more drunk than sober now. Cameron hesitated to answer.
"I was five when I ended up in care, my parents didn't want me." I tsked with my tongue and shook my head sympathetically. "I kept telling them I wanted to be a girl and they wouldn't accept that. They were very set in their ways - boys couldn't play with dolls, they couldn't like pink, they weren't allowed to have emotions, you know, that kind of thing." He poured himself another drink and I watched him carefully.
"That's sad." I admitted, though my father had the same mindset.
"Yeah. So at school I played with all of the girls, we just had more in common. My best friend Lucy, she was having a birthday party and it was one of those girly makeover parties, hair, makeup, nails. I didn't get an invite because I was a boy. I didn't even get considered because I was a boy and it broke my heart because I really wanted to go to that stupid party."
"So what happened?"
"I came home, cried in my bathroom for hours. I was five, I took down my pants and I looked at myself. I hated my own body. Like hated it. I didn't feel like it belonged to me. I took my moms craft scissors and -"
