Chapter Eight

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Babies and Other Hazards of Sex: How to Make a Tiny Person in Only 9 Months, with Tools You Probably Have around the Home.
-Dave Barry

"I heard a rumor that the Asshole of Dickerdam is gay." Avery says this in a whisper, but the idiot doesn't realize I'm in earshot.

Hearing this, it smacks me in the face that this isn't supposed to be normal, that getting a nickname like Hospital Boy or the Asshole of Dickerdam isn't part of life.

It seems normal to me.

"I'm bi." I tell them, loudly, arms crossed.

"Wait, you like guys?" Macy asks, sounding like she wants to gag. "That's disgusting."

"You are a straight girl," I snap, not able to stop myself from glaring at her. "You like guys too you fucking homophobic idiot."

"I'm not a idiot."

"Oh?" My snark doesn't go unnoticed. "Just homophobic then."

"Thatch-" Violet begins, but I cut her off.

"Don't bother. I'm going home."

Fuck it, who should give a single shit?

Wear a Victorian dress, you don't need an excuse. Dress like a witch, pointed hat and all, poke people who annoy you with the sharp end of your wand. Who should even care anymore. Why worry when there's bigger shit to worry about.

I'm saying literally just don't care anymore.

Tell the girl her hair is nice. Tell him he dressed good that day. Tell them their hair is awesome.

If someone is out of your league, swing anyway.

It worked out for me.

You want to kiss boys? Great, kiss boys. You want to kiss girls? Cool, kiss girls. If you don't want to kiss anyone, go on an adventure and get that thrill! What about it? Nobody should care.

Eat the extra food. Tell anyone when you're upset, let people know what matters to you. Shave your head or start wearing makeup or make your own socks and decorate your jacket.

I'm saying if nothing matters than we might as well give nothing a fucking meaning. 

Am I right?

Before I know it, I've let my anger go and spent the entire night just researching and researching until the next morning, I'm my normal self sitting at a table at Sip 'n Dip.

"Okay, I've been doing research about it and now I'm so glad that I have. It started with frogs!" I exclaim as Theodore slides in the seat across from me at the café -who's cyan eyes widen at me.

After that night together two weeks ago, waking up together has become a semi-normal thing.

So I can still see love bite and red marks staring up at me from his loosened button-up.

"Frogs?"

"Yeah! In frog papers, like research papers about frogs, there's at least one instance where it will say 'specimen was released in the field immediately after capture' but I've read enough of these and know enough people who study these things to know what it really means."

I know this isn't nearly as funny as my nerdy ass thinks it is.

"It pretty much means that whoever caught the frog also dropped it and their research team probably fell over each other to get it. But it also means that smart little frog wasn't recaptured and they all felt like idiots."

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