I'm a Lonely Teenage Lesbian... What about you?

I'm Christine Craft.

I dye my hair a lot, I'm from Ohio, and I like girls. People like to treat my sexuality as some novelty or abnormality, but I'd like to think it's as noteworthy to be straight as it is to be gay. Even some gay people disagree with me for that, and I think it's silly. I won't write this story like some sort of pride parade or something. If my mentioning a nice-looking girl is pride-parade enough for you, then you ought to stop reading.
And with that, I'll begin my story...

I was sitting next to my best friend, Evan Richards on our bus ride to the best school in the whole damn world, Lakewood High. I've only known Evan since the beginning of high school (three months ago), but he's already a very close friend of mine. We have a lot in common, including an unconditional love for all electronic music. He's said that sometimes he wishes he was Canadian just so he could be from the same country as Monstercat, and I can't say that I disagree with him.  We also both felt outcast in that we didn't apply to or fit in with some ridiculous clique. I'm the strange lesbian girl with a rainbow-colored spectrum of hair dyes who wears collared shirts and ties a little too much, and he's the boy from Maryland with a funny accent who can't seem to put a sentence together without sounding away from himself. 

A Stephen Walking song started to play in the earbuds we shared right as the bus stopped. What a shame that I had to miss it, I thought, as I stepped out of the bus. Since Evan and I have lockers on total opposite ends of the school, we told each other we'd talk at lunch, and we went our separate ways. 

When I got to my locker, I drew a smiley face on the little whiteboard I kept there. Every time I dream well, I put a smile there. Anyways, I threw my tiny black  bag in there and took my biology binder with me, since that's my first class. Evan is consistently shocked at the fact that I can keep multiple binders perfectly neat with minimal effort, since he just keeps everything in one huge portfolio. I used to be the same way as Evan, but I think I had a turning point after I failed English one marking period in 7th grade. That wasn't fun. 

The first half of the day passes quickly, and I'm ready for lunch. I meet Evan at our typical table.

"What's up?" Evan asks.

"Nothing really," I reply, as usual. "Today's just as typical as usual."

Everything was typical, that is, until I opened up my embarrassing little Hello Kitty lunchbox to find a tuna sandwich in clear wrap accompanied by a small ziploc bag full of baby carrots.

"Did your mom pack you something good?" Evan asks. I look up to see a huge grin on his face, as if he could tell. I blushed a bit and giggled, pulling the sandwich out of my lunchbox as if to answer.
"Nice," he replied to my show of sandwich, "looks like you'll be having a good day." If there's one thing that everyone knows about me, there's only one thing I like more than girls. It's tuna sandwiches.

"What are the lunch buying options today for those of you without the coolest mom in the world?" I ask out of curiosity and jest. 

"I have no idea," Evan answered sounding distracted, "but I don't think I'll be eating today, anyways."

"How come?" I ask, if for no other reason than to sound engaged.

"I'm not sure. I guess I'm not very hungry right now." It sounds like something's up, but for his own sake I won't ask, since pressing can be rude. He'll tell me in time, anyways, because he always does. He's the sort of person that loves to hear what other people's problems are so he can try and help, but he loves to internalize his own problems. 

We're silent for a couple of minutes as I eat my baby carrots slowly, scanning the cafeteria for interesting goings-on. Evan decides the silence is a little too boring for his liking, and starts to make conversation about the Pegboard Nerds. Not that he does too well at it, since neither of us like them anyways. I make a couple clever remarks about their inability to build up to drops, and he laughs somewhat nervously.