Flávia: I just got caught off guard

I stare at the screen for a moment, unsure what exactly is happening. Just an hour ago, I was floating on cloud nine. I felt like the happiest girl in the world. Like everything was going right for once in my life. Now …

My hand hovers over the on-screen keyboard but I’m not sure what there is to say to that. I’m not sure how she expects me to respond.

I won’t mention it, I type out, against my better judgment.

I stare at the message for a second, feeling shame bloom inside me once more. Lately it feels like that’s all I am to everyone—some secret they have to hide away. I thought that coming out to my family, at least, would negate some of the shame.

I guess I was wrong.

So I hit send, feeling an emptiness in the pit of my stomach, growing deeper and darker as I stare at my phone. I clasp it so tightly in my hands that my fingers become pale.

Flávia: thanks

“Knock, knock!”

“You know it’s not knocking when you just say the words knock knock, right?”

“You’re supposed to say who’s there.”

I turn around in my chair to glare at Priti, who apparently has the same sense of humor as a child in Montessori.

“Do you want something? I’m kind of busy.” I turn to my desk without waiting for her answer.

“I’ve been calling you down for breakfast for like the past fifteen minutes. What are you doing?”

The truth is that I never went to bed last night. I felt too wired, with too many thoughts running through my head. It was overwhelming. Instead of going to bed, I began to pour my heart and soul out in the form of henna patterns.

There’s something oddly relaxing about the repetitive patterns—the curved lines and circles and the knowledge that this is something that’s mine, something important.

All of that led to the worst realization of all.

Last night wasn’t about me and Flávia at all. That almost-kiss had to be about exactly this—getting me freaked out and anxious, and maybe even further infatuated. All so I’d decide to give up, or at the very least be distracted.

But I’m not going to feel ashamed and heartbroken because Flávia thinks I’m someone she can play with. I won’t give her the satisfaction. So I spent the rest of the night creating more designs for the Monday showcase.

“I just want to finish these designs. The showcase is getting close,” I say.

I’m in the middle of drawing a particularly intricate pattern when Priti leans down beside me.

“Your eyes are all bloodshot, Apujan. Are you okay? Did you get any sleep?”