The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Forty-Nine

      “So, I’m sure that you’re all wondering why I gathered you here today,” I said awkwardly. The clichéd line sounded as though it would fit into a movie or be used as the perfect starter for someone of the gay community to come out. Even telling people about a marriage proposal would fit the phrase.

      “Yeah, we are,” Mackenzie said, blinking dully.

      “Well, it’s for an intervention of sorts,” I mused aloud.

      “What did we do wrong?” Kit was next to ask.

      “Oh, absolutely nothing!” I assured her. “No, this is more of a…self-inflicted intervention.”

      “Oh. My. Gosh!” my dear mother practically screeched. “Elizabeth Abigail Turner are you about to tell us that you’re really a lesbian! It would explain so much! The sports! The lack of boys! The clothes! Prom! Everything makes sense now! I swore I wouldn’t cry when this day finally came, so I won’t! I promise! Ah! This is so special, Liz! I’m so glad that you’re finally accepting your true self! Isn’t it wonderful, Kit?”

      “Uh, of course!” Kit offered up an agreeable smile.

      “Mom,” I groaned, “how many times have we been over this? I’m. Not. Lesbian. I like boys, okay? I have nothing against people who are attracted to the same gender, but, personally, I like boys. Okay?”

      “Oh,” my mom said simply, shutting up. The amount of times that she had jumped to the conclusion that I was a lesbian was quite alarming, in fact. But, at the end of the day, it was really just Monica being Monica…

      “So, if you’re not coming out, then why are we here?” Trevor questioned.

      “Well,” I began, “as some of you may know, I have grown close over the past few months to two individuals of the male gender. Basically, I like both of them, and they gave me an ultimatum: to choose between them. I need you’re help.”

      “Who are you, and what have you done with my daughter?” my mother gaped, her eyes crazy as though she was about to explode with enthusiasm. Oh. Fuck.

      “I just want your input, that’s all,” I said, temporarily regretting the decision because of Monica’s current reaction.

      “Go for Dylan,” Mackenzie was the first to speak. “He loves you—incase you weren’t aware—like, a lot, I’m biased, and I think that you two would make hot babies.”

      I stared at the dark-haired girl, shaking my head at her exaggeration of Dylan’s feelings for me. “Oh, uh, thanks,” I mumbled, as I mentally gave Dylan a point on the imaginary scoreboard within my head.

      “I’m team Eric,” Kit said with a yawn, running a hand through her dazzlingly bright red hair. “He’s cute, sweet, cute, smart, cute, athletic, cute, charming, and did I mention cute?”

      The tally was tied up as Trevor spoke. “Firstly, let me say that I think that you’re the only girl I know who asks for an intervention,” Trevor laughed, staring at me as if I was some exotic animal who would pounce at any moment. “And, secondly, I’m going to have to say Dylan because I feel like my girlfriend would kill me if I said anything otherwise and because I think that he makes you happy.”

      I nodded, acknowledging his words. “What about you, mom?”

      “Personally, I’d go for Eric,” she started, “because he’s good-looking, charming, and is going to go places in his life. But that’s me, Liz. I can’t tell you what to do and neither can these losers here. I know it sounds cheesy, but you have to follow your heart. Do what’s right.” She sent me a reassuring smile, meaning that I was to take her words to heart. “Now, I am aware that you brought the intervention upon yourself in regards to Dylan and Eric, but there’s another very important matter to discuss,” she paused. “Or I can just send you to therapy again so that I can pay over one hundred dollars an hour for you to talk in a ‘confortable environment’ and drink tea. Your choice.”