The Devil Child

Chapter Twelve

Polly took a deep breath, looking at the pamphlet. PRAY THE GAY AWAY! YOU NO LONGER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR CHILD BEING CONFUSED. STEER THEM RIGHT, WITH THIS EIGHT WEEK CAMP.

Polly shivered, and set down the pamphlet. The children on the front were smiling and had their hands clasped together, as if they were all praying. It made her stomach churn, and her mind whirl with hatred. Hatred for herself, because why was she so messed up? Why couldn't she be normal, like all the other children?

She closed her eyes. She didn't think she needed to go to a camp. Didn't think it was necessary, but her parents wanted her to go. Worst of all, it was with Doctor Higgins. As if he could make everything better. As if.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "You'll love it there," her mother urged. "Plus, you already know Doctor Higgins, so it won't be as strange and awkward. He's such a nice boy."

Polly didn't agree. She could remember the way he looked at her, and the way her brought her into his office. He was terrifying and strange, and she hated him. Had always hated him since she was a little girl.

"Please don't make me go, mom. I promise I'll never look at another girl again, just please-"

"You're going to go, whether you like it or not young lady!" Her mother was yelling at her now, loud and boisterous. "He will fix you. He will fix you up until you're good as new! You just wait!"

Polly didn't want to wait. Polly wanted to run and hide, but she could escape to nowhere, and that was the life she lived. If only she'd never told anyone.

She escaped to her bedroom, gripping the notepad. She flipped to the page of the girl she liked, and just stared. Stared at the curve of her face, the fullness of her lips, the way her eyelashes hit her cheek.

She was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that Polly knew she was never supposed to see. Polly knew the drill - she was supposed to be staring at boys, drawing boys, dreaming about boys. But what good were they? She saw boy all day, and all they seemed to do was make rape jokes and imitate the moans of girls. As if they were cool and mature, which they weren't, but Polly didn't care.

She didn't care because she wasn't attracted to them.

She thought they were idiotic and stupid. She thought they were crass, and disgusting because they never showered. Boys in her grade didn't care about how they looked or smelled. They were interested in spraying themselves in deodorant, and calling that good enough. They were also interested hitting the butt of every single girl in the hallway.

No, Polly didn't see the allure in boys. She just didn't understand it. She found girls much more attractive. They were beautiful, with fashion sense and beautiful hair. They smelled like heaven, looked like angels, and were always so well groomed. They cared about their appearance. They cared about showering.

Polly saw no reason to like a boy. They were gross. Disgusting. And cared about themselves.

But girls. Girls were so different, and soft, and they smelled so good.

Polly didn't want to like boys. She didn't want to date a boy who smelled like a can of men's body spray and was only interested in her bra size. She didn't want to date a boy who would hit her butt. She didn't want to date an immature boy who didn't understand her.

She had yet to meet a boy who could make her heart flutter like a girl could.

And no matter what Doctor Higgins did to her during that camp, Polly didn't think her mind could be changed.