It’s hard to be who you are and be rejected by society, friends and even your family. Being a lesbian is hard for Laurel, but she has the support of me, her lover. Tonight, she called crying and is coming over. Can I make her forget about the horrible things that happened? I love you, Laurel.
Laurel called me again last night. She was crying because some jerks called her a freak. The town isn’t lesbian/gay friendly and somehow they found out Laurel was. Since then they’ve teased her, pushed her around and called her names. Even her parents didn’t appreciate her. It broke my heart to hear Laurel’s tiny voice weeping on the phone, “Can I sleep over?”
“Of course, Laurel. I’ll wait for you at the door,” I replied before she hung up. I made my way downstairs, briefly checking myself in the bathroom mirror. My brown pig tails were tied to the side of my oval face. My green eyes matched the emerald butterfly necklace I wore around my neck. My baby blue tank top showed my overly plump flesh but I was presentable.
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