Is Life A Lie?

Has My Life Been a Lie?

Let's get one thing straight—I am not a butch. I am not a lesbian. I am not a tomboy. I am not any of these things just because I play football. The Americans pinned down my love for the beautiful game to my being British. It was that or being a lesbian. And I much, much preferred the former reason. I absolutely loathed it when someone threw the L-word at me. It didn't really start until my family decided to up and move to Miami, Florida, America from Croydon, South London, United Kingdom. The people here were lovely, if a little ignorant, especially on the subject of girls and footie. Or should I say soccer, as its known here. It's barely been a couple of months since we've moved—the parents, the little brother and me, graciously left our home and moved to the city of Miami because dad had business. That's all I knew, I didn't ask questions. The group of people who knew me inside out knew that what I cared for, I cared for with a passion. For example—football, tea, alcohol, friends, and scarves. Everything else--well, meh. 

            "Oi Hayley, we're going to be late!" I was snapped out of my reverie, rudely interrupted by Joel, the smut I call my younger brother. At 17, he was two years my junior. We both had blond waves and wide blue eyes. However, Joel towered over me at 6 foot 5, while I barely crossed the 5 foot mark. People often thought he was the older sibling. I often lamented, not so subtly, about inheriting mum's short genes. It really wasn't fair.

            I sighed loudly and grabbed my bag in slow motion, dredging my feet out the door. "Come on then. God, you really need to get your own wheels. I'm finally at uni, I should be allowed my sleep-ins." I checked myself out in the car's mirror while waiting for Joel to sort himself out. I had piled my locks into a messy bun atop my head and I was wearing a grey oversized hoodie with shorts. I quickly ran some gloss over my lips so I don't scare the other drivers on the roads.

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            "So sorry I'm late darlings!" I cried out dramatically as I rushed over to my mates—Alexandra, Hazel, Ruell and Declan—and gathered them up in a group hug. We usually met up for breakfast at Annie's, a dear old cosy bistro that was a short walk to our university. Traffic was my worst nemesis. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered with the gloss. It might not have been such a bad thing to scare the city drivers. Maybe they'd keep their distance and let me have the roads to myself.

            "Girl it is good to see you. I feel like I haven't set eyes on you in 3 days," Alexandra, or Alex, as we call her squeezed me back. She was my closest friend in this country. With her auburn hair, emerald eyes, size 2 figure and legs that went on for miles, she often made me feel like a spot of dirt in comparison.

            "Silly goon. It's because you've been away for 3 days. Tell me, how was LA? Will you take me there someday? Do you think they'll fancy my accent?" I piled the questions on her. She deserved it after ditching me for that long.

            "Let Alex breathe. Nobody could hate your accent Hay. They'd probably throw you in a movie if you went to LA," Hazel, ever the dreamer. She was half Thai, and had a permanent, natural tan and long black hair down to her waist. Her almond eyes were lit up in enthusiasm at the thought of me in a movie. Is it any wonder why I had self-confidence issues? My friends were extremely beautiful. While Ruell and Declan sniggered and rolled their eyes at us, we ignored them pointedly and got into an animated discussion about a road trip to Los Angeles. "I personally think a trip to New York sounds better." That was Declan.

            Ruell ran a hand through his already ruffled dark hair, "Or Vegas. Think of all the money we could come back with."

            I stuck my tongue out at him. "We're not 21 yet. Brilliant idea, mate." I got a thump on my shoulder as a result. "Okay but seriously, let's go somewhere. Our semester break begins in a week, I don't wanna be stuck here."