Gay Dads [Adopted By Phan} (Complete!)

He Likes Girls.

Seven's POV
I don't have a last name, if you're wondering. I choose not to, until I finally have a family that actually loves and cares about me.
Something I don't currently have.
Suddenly, a familiar voice enter my dreamless state, singing words I wake up to every morning.
Wise men, say
only fools rush in.
That was all I need to hear for me to sit up, pick up my old iPhone 4, and type in the passcode to keep the alarm from continuing to play.
After a minute of sitting up on my bed and staring at the wall, thinking about nothing and everything, I stand up in my single-person bedroom and make my way to the closet.
Ha, a place I'll always be stuck in. The closet.
I grab a pair of red, faded skinny jeans, a random white t-shirt, and a black hoodie with Patrick from SpongeBob making a weird face on it. I don't have very many clothes, just four pairs of skinny jeans, red, two black ones, and a black pair with rips in the knees that are slightly too big for me. I have six shirts and two hoodies.
Here at the orphanage, once you turn ten, you have to make your own time and money to get clothes.
Mrs. and Mr. Role are the ones who run the orphanage, and pay for all our phone bills. I hope when I get adopted, I can change my number. I don't want the kids here to be able to contact me.
I throw on all the clothes I picked out and use my phone as a mirror. I run my hand through my hair and mess it up then put on a thin layer of eyeliner.
Fight me.
Once I've done everything I need to, I open my chipping door and slowly make my way to the giant living room for all the kids here. A few girls come out of there rooms and give me weird looks. I stick my tongue out at them and plop down on the brown leather couch. A boy with a brown faux-hawk and baggy jeans with a Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt comes over and sits himself next to me. Uncomfortable, I shift away from him a little so I'm pushed into the corner of the couch.
I don't like this boy. His name is Jame Walding.
"Hey, girly." Jame smirks at me. I look down and stuff my hands in my hoodie pockets.
"What do you want?" I mumble, but loud enough for him to hear. Jame puts his hand on my chin and forces me to look at his face.
"You're probably the first girl for me to not like," he taunts. I slap his arm away and glare at him. "I'm not a girl! Leave me alone!"
Jame shrugs and leans back into the couch and slings an arm around my shoulder.
"I don't know, you seem like a girl to me. I thought you were okay with boys who want to be considered girls?" Jame looks me in the eye, an eyebrow raised. I angrily stand up and cross my arms.
"Yes, I'm perfectly okay with it, unlike you. But, I don't want people to call me a girl." I explain in a growl. I walk to the other side of the room.
I really don't like Jame. I've had to explain the same thing to him so many times, and it's extremely annoying. I look over my shoulder and see that three girls have sat themselves with him, twirling their hair and pulling up their shorts or skirts so their legs are more exposed.
I have nothing against straight people, if boys like girls and if girls like boys, that's that. It's totally okay too.
I just don't like straight people like Jame. I have no spark of friendliness towards them.
And Jame, is the straightest person anybody could ever meet. For certain, he likes girls.