Vanilla

Thirteen

A/N: So it appears that the average word count for every chapter of this book is actually 5-6k and I'm cOnfUSeD how it got to this point. Also, I might not be updating next week because I mmiiiight be focusing on a new chapter for FS instead! I'll see how it goes and update you guys on Instagram. 

Enjoy freshly-brewed sexual tension! jkjkjkjk

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"So. He hates cooking for everyone, but he's voluntarily cooked for you. Twice," Si Yin summed up with a look, chin raised and eyes narrowed. "I'm betting on Naruto-Einstein. He clearly wants you to have his babies."

"That, is not," was all I managed to piece together before being confused myself. I had to take a second to recover before diverting Si Yin's attention to our homeroom teacher who'd entered the class with a stack of papers. This got her scrambling back to her seat (which was really only two desks down) and straightening out her uniform before anyone could call her out.

Chef Palmer got to distributing the papers at once, sending them down the rows before picking up a piece of chalk from the teacher's desk and scribbling several pointers on the board. I was, however, unfortunately distracted by the student seated in front of me who'd passed down a square of paper along with the additional sheets of what appeared to be parental consent forms for the orientation camp.

"Make sure you get these scanned and uploaded onto the school portal before midnight tomorrow, including a photograph of your passports and the digital certificate of travel declaration you'll find on the same page," Chef Palmer announced after pointing us towards the first of her pointers. "No consent, no flight ticket, no camp."

Question: are you gay, said the square of paper that was thankfully folded and clearly written by a certain someone two seats down who was, very apparently, glancing over her shoulder far too often for comfort.

"Temporary itineraries will be given out on your flight as per usual. Destinations remain a surprise until the morning of your flight but both the reporting venue and time are stated clearly on the..."

That is not a question you should be asking on passed notes, Si Yin! I wrote initially but soon decided not to send the square of paper back in her direction for safety purposes. Admittedly, the question was one of the many I'd been asking myself as of late and reading up about; which wasn't something to be embarrassed about, really. My godfather and his husband are one of the happiest married couples I'd ever met and with a pair of adopted children, they were nothing less than a family.

The notion itself—family—was another concept that I had yet to grasp despite the countless books and journals I've gone through since the age of four. And very much like the idea of flesh and blood, sexuality, too, seemed all-too-complex to be understood through written words. This, I was experiencing first-hand.

No, not the sexuality part. Just the complexity of understanding it.

"Remember. The packing list is a guide and not some holy bible. Do not ask stupid questions like whether or not you have to bring asthmatic medication if you aren't asthmatic or sanitary pads if you're male. Besides that, bring as many knives as you like, as many log books or cameras or spices or whatever it is you can fit into your bags. But do not pack knives into your carry-ons or you'd be handing those thousand-dollar blades over to security before you know it."

Already, our classmates were shifting chairs and exchanging whispers about what I assumed were location rumours since, as the packing list stated, sleeping bags were one of the many mandatory items. Something else that caught my eye was mosquito repellent. And ponchos instead of umbrellas.