I knew the girls since we were 13. At 30, the most obvious thing to do is to meet up. Catch up.

That put me in a very awkward situation.

Probably because I did not enjoy high school. I was the outcast, bullied and jeered at. At first I did mind. I cried a lot. I called my mom and told her I didn’t want to stay at that school. She said that my father spent a lot of money to send me to such a prestigious school and I knew quitting was never an option since the very beginning.

The school was famous. It’s on newspapers, television, best rankings, etc. The girls had a reputation. Elegant, pretty, smart and talented but for me there was never a prestige in mean, bullying girls.

The thing about girls is that they mess with your head. The smarter, the worse trick she can have on her sleeves. I know the kind of bullying boys face. Pain is not such a bad idea. You can heal. But girls do terrible things with words and amplified it with such rude expressions. I can still see their faces when they recoiled at everything I touch just because someone told a herd of girls that I was involved with another girl. Apparently it’s widely accepted that lesbianism is contagious.

I was upset with the lie and how I was not even given a chance to explain. It would have been cool if I really was one but I was not and I was prepared to do some lengthy discussion about it until I realize that this is not what I plan to do for the rest of my life.

I was ready but convincing people is not as easy as it seemed. I have the list of true stories, alibis and excuses but I swear to God even if the sun rises from the crease of my arse, it would not make any difference for them. They will believe what they want to believe.

I cannot place myself in such agony. I might tolerate it if it was physical but one day after a long year of unbelievable bad luck, dark thoughts and lonely nights, I learned the art of not giving a damn and got my shit together.

It’s like mastering a Patronus charm.

So things might have changed during the past decades. Maybe they’re kinder. Maybe they accumulated more grace. They are accomplished mothers and I’m guessing that they did a good job with their children. I hope that one day their child will not call them and tell them of an unfortunate lies that spiral out of control, of heartbreak and missing diary or how no one would partner with her in science lab experiment for 4 years.

I really thought I had let this go a long time ago.

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