Our Last Year

1.

ORLA

[Testing. Okay Imani, it seems to be working fine now….Yes I‟m sure.]

Okay, if you’re listening to this recording, it means that Nonso agreed to publish our story. I owe him big time. Anyway I’m Orla and I’m only going to make a brief introduction before I hand the Mic over to Imani. He insisted that I go first, and I’m not in the mood to argue with him. He’s an idiot

[Imani calm down, I’m kidding.]

Anyway my story starts with this weird journal entry:

September 16, 2019

Dear Future/Better me

Remember, this is not a diary, it’s a journal.
School resumed today, and I’m finally in my last year. I should be psyched about it, but I’m not. Something else bothers me. Today I slapped Leo, but why did I do it? He tried to kiss me, but is that enough reason to slap my partner? I know he has a crush on me and I’m sure he knows I’m not into him. But sadly, that isn’t what bothers me. What bothers me is, I think it’s not just Leo. I think I may not be into boys at all. The other day, Bianca held my hand and I felt…..weird. Is that how it feels to be attracted to someone? What could all this mean? All this has never happened before. I don’t care about what people will think if I’m actually lesbian. Okay, maybe a little. But I’m more worried that…

A knock sounded on my bedroom door.

I quickly closed the purple leather bound book I was writing in and sat up, before saying “Come in.”

A girl opened the brown wooden door and walked in. “Hey sis, what’s up?”

“Sis?” I knitted my eyebrows. “What are you up to April?”

She held her chest, feigning pain. “Are you saying I don‟t usually call you my sister?”

“No,” I crossed my legs “I‟m saying you never call me your sister.”

April chuckled, her long, black hair bouncing slightly. “Fair enough. What are you up to?”

“Nothing exactly,” I lied. No one knew I kept a dia…I mean Journal. Not even my sister. Although I had no reason to hide it from her.

April raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” She walked towards me slowly, and I watched as her feet tread gently against the purple colored rug. “I totally believe you.”

“Okay fine.” I said and brought out my journal from under the pillow. “I’m keeping a very private journal.”

April smirked. “You mean diar...”

“No, I mean journal.”

She laughed again, before sitting beside me. “Whatever. I see it’s purple, too.”

I shrugged.

“At least that’s one thing in your life that’s from you.” She continued.