Alicia and I (Lesbian Story)

Chapter One

‘Happy Birthday, Emily!’ she called after me. Slowly, I turned around. Was she talking to me?

Alicia jogged towards me, ginning. ‘Hi. Emily, right? Happy Birthday.’

I blinked, unable to comprehend how she knew my name, much less my birthday. ‘Um… thanks?’

‘So it is your birthday!’ she laughed. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone?’

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I’d discovered that the New Emily seemed unable to respond to direct questions asked of her, especially ones that required a long response. She was used to one-word answers only.

‘Well… guess what?’ Alicia pressed.

I blinked. It took me a moment to reply. ‘Uhhh… what?’

‘It’s my birthday, too!’ Alicia laughed and slapped me playfully across the shoulder. ‘How much of a coincidence it that?’

This was all too much for me. I squirmed. Suddenly, instincts kicked in. She was expecting a conversation. I had to get out of there.

‘Happy Birthday,’ I muttered, glaring down at my scuffed school shoes, and fled.

Keeping one shoulder pressed firmly against the wall, I pushed through the throng of school-kids who were desperate to escape from this Hell once the bell had gone. It was, after all, a Friday.

As the number students fleeing began to dwindle, I navigated through the maze of hallways to my locker. There was no-one in the hallway, now - the barren stretch of corridor reached into the distance on either side of me, identical lockers queued in neat, uniform grids and each were closed, untouched. There was just me, and the feeling of being completely alone was strangely comforting.

After wrestling with my lock and prying open my rusty locker, shoving my books in and, pulling out my bag, I breathed a sigh of relief. As pathetic as it was, my heart was still hammering. The very idea of sustaining a conversation with Alicia was terrifying. I was soon beginning to understand that the new Emily was narrow and nervous, and loved the feeling of being invisible. She was the polar opposite of the Emily I used to be.

It had been only a month, and already the old Emily had disappeared. But I was glad. This was a clean slate. A fresh start.

Carefully, I placed the books I needed for homework into my old, beat-up backpack, savouring being left alone. Between school and the foster parents, alone-time was almost non-existent.

I was shutting my locker when I saw a flicker of movement to my side. I whipped around.

Nobody was there.

Shrugging I slammed my locker shut.  

Then I saw it - I jumped, shreiking; ‘Ah!’     

She was standing behind the door of my locker, perfectly angular, gazing straight at me. Her sapphire-coloured eyes were ringed with dark eyeliner and long, black lashes – though I suspected mascara had something to do with that. Her skin was the colour of gold. Her hair was a bit lighter – light-golden and glossy.  

She was beautiful.

Her eyes were wide, almond-shaped, and her lips were plump. She had a button-nose, high cheekbones and a sharp, angular jaw. Her hair came down to her elbows, and her eyebrows curved upwards. She was long-legged, tall and slim; her hips flared out from a tiny waist, her generous breasts piled gracefully on her chest, held up by a push-up bra. She even smelled beautiful. Like jasmine.

She was perfect.

Too perfect. Even looking at her made me nauseous.

‘Hello,’ she said, smiling brightly. I searched her face for even the slightest of imperfections. The only blemish I could find was a small mole hovering gracefully on the curve of her top lip. Damn. Even that was perfect.