Leah pales.
Genny shrugs, open palms lifting skyward along with her shoulders.
And Amy?
Well, Amy gasps and whirls, taking off in the opposite direction.
The rest of them might as well be watching a tennis match, their ponytails whipping back and forth between where Leah stands gawking at Genny and where Amy is racing off to, clearly distraught.
After a long pause, Leah regains her faculties. Although she remains silent, her eyes narrow on Genesis, and she wordlessly resumes her leadership role, turning to follow Amy and taking the herd with her.
After releasing a long breath, Genny mutters, “Fucking sheep.”
“Seriously,” I remark, taking a heavy breath.
Genny’s hands curl around my shoulders, and she turns me to face her. Her stare is hard, but her voice is gentle. “This has got to stop, Chloe. None of those girls are better than you, yet you give them the power to make you feel otherwise. You’re beautiful, both inside and out, while they are neither. They mask their ugliness with labels, with brands, to filter out those they deem to be less. They know nothing other than the precious, coddled life they’ve been given.”
Her hands tighten, as does her gaze. “And what pisses me off is, you know this. You’re not oblivious, yet you refuse to accept what you already know. You want to get out from underneath them, accept yourself. Embrace what you have to offer to those around you, both good and bad. And if people don’t get it, if they don’t understand, fuck them. They’re not worthy.”
A wide, knowing grin spreads across her face. “Somewhere deep within you lies your very own bitch mode—I feel it as sure as I breathe. I will find it. I will expose it. I will nurture it. But it will be you who finally unleashes it. And what a marvelous sight that will be.”
I cover her hands with my own, allowing her words to give me strength as I conjure up an insult. “Screw them.”
Genesis angles an ear in my direction and prods me with a finger. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear with all the judgment being cast our way. Could you maybe say that a little louder?”
Tears leak from my eyes, not from fear, but from relief. I nod, then shout, “Screw them! And their ridiculously short skirts!”
With her hands still firm on my shoulders, Genesis blinks twice, then bends toward the ground, overcome with laughter. I struggle to remain upright while she releases a heinous snort, and offers apologetic smiles to onlookers as they pass by. When she finally rises, Genesis inhales deeply then shakes her head, still grinning. “So as of right now, your bitch mode seems to be set on Kitten.” She winks. “But don’t worry, I’m all over this shit. With my help, we’ll move that setting right past Sublimation-of-Anger straight onto the feared Who-Gives-a-Shit.” Tapping the end of my nose with her finger, she adds, “My little lioness-in-training.”
We hold each other’s gazes until her eyes narrow, signaling her refusal to disengage until I accept her words. Eventually, I relent with a curt nod, and her mouth breaks into a satisfied grin. Genny offers me the crook of her arm, and together we make our way through the onslaught of students with looks of “what the hell just happened” on their faces.
Surprisingly, I feel none of their stares. There is nothing in this moment other than me feeling safe and drawing on Genny’s strength.
Her belief in me. In my capabilities.
She sees me.
I grin, shaking my head in awe as we walk. When we make it onto the bus, I smile at our driver, Mr. Porter, as we pass him, head straight to the rear, and plop down in our usual seats. Five minutes later, the boys take their usual place in front of us, and I pretend not to notice Lukas by lowering my head and nonchalantly digging through my backpack.
Still bent forward, my eyes meet Adam’s as his head hangs over the back of the seat, watching me with a shrewd stare. I glare back at him, willing him not to speak. His smile broadens.
He quickly glances at Lukas, then gives me a lengthy look and says, “Wow, Chloe. At the risk of sounding”—he pauses, his laughing eyes wide as he mouths the word “gay” into his cupped hands—“you look positively gorgeous today.”
Unable to find anything in my bag, I relent, chuckling as I ease back into my seat. Adam’s sexuality is no secret. Not anymore. In fact, it was the very reason he was sent to Sacred Heart. I can’t imagine the pain he endured, having a family that adored him, that loved him, only to reject him because of their refusal to accept something so natural. I’m sad for him.
I guess I’m also sad for his family, because their beliefs have ensured they’re missing out on one of the most wonderful people who ever graced this earth. That because of their restrictions, their need to conform to the demands of a religion translated by man, they’ll never truly know Adam. Nor will they understand the positive impact he has on those around him.
When I look at him, I don’t see his sexuality. I see Adam, and I’ll never understand people who see anything else.
That being said, he’s not any less of a pain in my ass.
With his playful stare still trained in my direction, Adam nudges Lukas with his elbow. “Doesn’t Chloe look gorgeous in that shirt? It brings out the gold flecks in her eyes.”
Lukas faces forward, unmoved. “Yeah. Sure.”
I suck in a breath at his dismissive and harsh tone.
Yeah. Sure.
His words are sharp. They sting.
Genesis speaks from beside me, redirecting my attention. “Actually, Chloe…that shirt looks like shit on you. We should burn it, it’s that awful.”
Adam’s face falls, contorted in confusion, but I smile gently.
My eyes lock with Genny’s, and I remember what she said. Embrace what you have to offer to those around you, both good and bad. And if people don’t get it, if they don’t understand, fuck them.
As the true meaning of her words washes through me, I’m fueled by a courage I’ve never allowed myself to feel before. A wide grin crosses my face before I answer. “We totally should.”
Twenty minutes later, after tossing our backpacks in the entryway of our home and heading outside, the shirt is ablaze within the safety of the acreage behind Sacred Heart. Genny and I laugh, giddy as we watch the flames. The other two Wildflowers have very different reactions. One watches the fire in silence, jaw tensed, his eyes fixed on the glowing embers. The other watches us warily, as though we’ve lost our minds.
But my mind has never been clearer.
I’ve never felt stronger.
I refuse to remain a kitten any longer.
4
“Do I even want to know what you four were up to out there?”
The tiny body of Mrs. Mary Rodriguez blocks the back door of Sacred Heart, her weight braced by her upper arm against the jamb. A plastic spatula dangles from her fingers. Her amused expression is undeniable as the loose, gray tendrils of hair framing her face flutter in the breeze. But as soon as her tawny-colored eyes find mine, her amusement falters.
“Chloe, what happened to your shirt? You looked so pretty wearing it.”
My eyes drift downward, taking in the plain white tank I had layered underneath. Tugging at the gloves still covering my arms, I grin then shrug, looking back at her. Instead of feeling insulted like most girls my age would, my heart warms. She notices. She notices me. That a small change in my wardrobe flagged Mrs. Rodriguez’s attention, well…it means more than she’ll ever know.