Knots

Chapter 4

LUCA

When World History is over, I head over to gym - a.k.a., my worst nightmare. This is probably the class I hate the most, and most kids skip it, taking their own free period. I asked my mom for boys' shorts last year, and I got really tight yoga pants instead. So now I get to be 'beautiful' while looking like I totally want attention. Basically looking exactly like Alexa. Except less gorgeous. And less blonde. I meander into the girls' locker room, and open the lock. An envelope flutters out of the locker. It has a pink heart on the front. I know it's for Alexa, we share a gym locker since we share last names, also, I know because I don't get love notes with pink hearts on them. I can't help but open it anyway. I pause, realizing something. This is the girls locker room. Oh. My. God. Her boyfriend is a creep! I open it. The paper is crisp, and it smells like flowers. The letter is on lined paper, and the edges have been torn off, so it isn't as bumpy. I do that sometimes when I'm nervous. I head into the bathroom with it and lock myself into a stall.

Dear Allie Woods, Nobody calls my sister 'Allie!'

I had an amazing time with you at the bar last night. She told us she was staying at a friend's! Watching you dance made me smile creepy! and the least I could do to thank you is write you this. Anyway, thanks! Everything about last night was incredible. I'm sorry if it was a little strange for you. Dinner date today at 6? A Date?!?!!!!!!

Love,

Laurel Evans

Laurel! That sounds like a girls' name! Shocked, I shove the paper back into the envelope and try to reseal it. As I run into the locker room and sit on the ground, I put the letter back into our locker and slam it closed before sitting on the floor. A girl! My sister has a girlfriend! And she signed her name with 'love!' I think I'm hyperventilating, I can't believe it. I run downstairs, not even caring that I'm skipping class. I open the door and breathe for the first time in minutes. I place my hands on my knees for a moment then keep running. I run all the way to guidance. Then I stop. Obviously she wants this to be a secret. Telling us she was going to a friends' house yesterday, and going to some bar instead. A part of me doesn't care. And the other part doesn't want my sister to get hurt. She doesn't want anybody to know. That should be her choice, right? That's the right thing to do. Yeah. I won't tell anyone. I head into the library with my computer in hand. Once I sit down on a beanbag, I look up Laurel Evans on Instagram. I find a thousand different women and three men. I select one that looks like she's a sophomore. She's really pretty. Long black hair and amber eyes. Her skin is dark and smooth, no sign of any acne. Lucky her. She wears a smile in every single one of her photos. Her style is... hard to describe. In every one of her posts, she's wearing combat boots and jeans, but her shirts vary from flowy to tight, and are a wide range of colors. I stop on one photo. Her hair is pulled in a half-bun (some up, some down) and her eyes are glowing with excitement, with a guitar laying next to her on what I assume is her bed. I press play on the audio. She wrote a song! Her voice is just as pretty as her appearance, and her smile is just as present in the video as in the picture, her bright red lipstick complimenting her black and white striped T-shirt. The song is about all her wishes. One of them is for somebody to love. I look at the date, 10/6/17. That's last year. The next song. 12/15/18. It's a love song, this time to her partner. She never specifies the gender. The next song. 5/9/19. This one is for a girl with the last name 'Forest.' The caption underneath reads;

"This one's for you... 😅😻 Hope you like it."

There's a lot of responses on that video. Some people commented, and other people sent support. People call her names. 'Dyke' was thrown into the mix several times. She stopped posting after that. No more songs. No more smiles. No more Laurel. She put her email in one of her posts, said she wanted people to contact her if they wanted a copy of her album. I'm surprised she didn't take it down. I pull my phone from my pocket and type in the number.