The Identity Crisis

Questions

Chapter 11

The following days are somber, word eventually gets out about the homosexuals that were killed.

"They were all so young..."

"This has to stop,"

"This is ridiculous. We have to do something about this."

"I feel so bad for them. #thoughtsandprayers."

Not quite sure what that last one means.

The deliveries come in the next morning. People rush down the hall and down the stairs towards the cafeteria. The doors burst open and people file in. There are two tables set up on either side of the room, each one filled with essentials. I stand off to the side and watch the chaos ensue. People shuffle back and forth between the tables. One of which is piled high with an assortment of clothes, the other with packages and boxes labeled "FHP". People mill around, the commotion dies down a bit. I start towards the table that is piled high with clothes. A few people crowd around the table, some I know, some are unfamiliar.

"Wow, these are great!"

"The quality is actually really good,"

"I can see myself wearing this to bed for the next thousand years,"

I look down at the table. Most of the items are simple jeans and neutral colored shirts. Some items do pop out as dissimilar. A pair of white jeans covered with holes and tatters, a green shirt with a faded logo of a snake and some fancy text scrolled beneath, and a pair of high-heeled brown boots. One of the men picks up the pair of boots.

"Hell yes!" He chuckles. The boy next to him elbows him in the arm.

"Oh my god. Wig." The boy grabs the shoes from his friend's hands. They both giggle and walk off with the boots. I bite my lip, shaking my head. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn and face Keena.

"Hi!" She giggles brightly.
"Hello..." I mumble, avoiding her gaze.

"What are you going to pick out?" She asks.

"I- I don't know," I shrug. She nods, her eyes scanning over the table. Her eyes widen.

"Oh! You should try this!" She scampers over to the other side of the table. She fishes through and grabs a jacket I didn't see before. It's mainly black in color, the stitching is a little ripped around the edges. A red dye blotches over the jacket, staining the fabric. I drop it back on the table, biting my lip.

"Um... It's not really my style..." I shake my head. Keena frowns.

"Oh... Well, how about this one?" She asks, lifting up another jacket. This one is faded sweatshirt, pink in color. The jacket is embroidered with flowers and patches. One of the patches reads "Angel", and another reads "Savior" in worn letters. I take the jacket from Keena and slip it over my arms. It's a comfortable fit.

"It's cool... I've never seen anything like this." I slip jacket off my shoulders.

"I think it's from the early 2000's..." Keena shrugs.

"2000's? What does that mean?"

"The era in which the jacket was made. People wore stuff like that all the time."

"Wait, how do you know what they wore back in those dark times?"

"I study magazines. Ray says we should all have stuff to do. To keep our minds going. Things that we like to do. I collect magazines from that era and read them. I like to see how things are different. People would wear whatever they wanted. Girls didn't have to wear pink, and boys didn't have to wear blue if they didn't want to." Keena explains.