She

Chapter 1 - It's Harder Than It Looks

"Camilla, go get your leotard for dance." I heard my mother call from the other room. When I didn't respond, she opened up my door.

"Camilla, did you hea-" she stops. Her eyes drift over to my arm, and she sighs.

"Honey, what did I tell you about drawing all over your arm? You're going to get your clothes all messed up." She walks over to me, and takes the markers out of my hand.

"Now, go get dressed. Its almost time to leave." She gestures me to the bathroom to wash the ink off myself, and leaves the room.
I checked my watch: 4:48PM. If I didn't get my bag prepared, I might be late for my first day at the academy. But, I did have enough time to call my friend Spencer before I left, so I did. As usual, he picks up immediately.

"Cam! Have you told her yet?" He asks, enthusiastically.

"Well, not exactly…"

"Wait, what does that mean?"

"I asked her to buy me rainbow-colored knee socks. Don't you think that kinda counts?"

He sighs. "You know, you're gonna have to tell her eventually. You don't wanna be some pink glittering lollipop your whole life, do you?"

Just the thought of that nearly made me gag. "Of course not, Spenc, but the words just don't come out right. I mean, what do I say? 'Hey mom, you know how you've been waiting over 10 years to finally get me into this super good ballet school? Well guess what? I hate ballet! Supriiise! Oh yeah! I also like girls! Double supriiise!' I mean, she'd probably pass out." I giggled.

Spencer sighed. "Well don't say it like that! Just say how you've been feeling lately. I mean, you've known for quite a while, right?"

"Look. I don't know if I'm 'gay' yet. I'm just confused. About a lot of things, actually." I paused, sighing. "I just don't feel like its the right time yet."

"I came out to my parents last year and they didn't treat me any different. I think you're stressing out too much, Cam." Spencer says sympathetically.

"Well, it was kinda obvious before. You had pride flags and posters of Chris Hemsworth all over your room, Spenc. I'll bet they already knew!" I responded jokiugly.

He laughs. "Touchè, but you need to say something really soon. Are we still going out tonight?"

"As much fun as treasure hunting in an abandoned hospital sounds, I'm gonna pass. Maybe we can go bowling tomorrow night."

"You're missing out, Cam." He says teasingly.

"Of course I am. See ya later, Spenc." I say, before hanging up.

I fell back on my pillows. What would I say? How would I say it? My mother was serious on making me a star performer, just like she was. She created this fantasy in her head of me becoming some fancy, upper-class ballerina, when in reality, that's not what I wanted to do. But how would I say that? Movies make coming out scenes this major, dramatic, emotional moment, when I'm sure my parents would just disown me immediately.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My ginger hair fell down my shoulders, where the waves began
I had hazel eyes, though I called them 'poop-brown' eyes instead. I had thrown on a white t-shirt that nearly blended in with my pale skin. I'd drawn a bunch of patterns all over my arms and hands, which is normally what I do when I'm stressed. God, I wish it was as easy as Spencer made it sound. I've never been happy with the way I looked, comfortable in my own skin, or happy, really.

At least Spencer was kinda cute. He had bleached white hair, with pink-dipped tips. It always covered one of his eyes, and I used to make fun of him for that. His eyes are emerald green, and even though he's 17 years old, he still barely has a moustache. He likes to wear skinny jeans and belts, along with a tight striped shirt, though it looks extremely uncomfortable. He always wears a dark denim jacket over his shirt, along with some converse sneakers. Somehow, the guy manages to pull it off.