Expect The Unexpected

Senior year! Yeah! I should be stoked. And I am. Mainly because it means I graduate and can get away from these prissy fucks. I didn’t want to come to Ravenwood. My mom didn’t want to send us here either. She felt it was too elitist. But my other mom wanted to give James and me the best education available. 

So off to Ravenwood, we were shipped. We don’t come from money. Thankfully we were eligible for scholarships that helped supplement the tuition fees. I know I’ve probably confused you talking about two moms. So let me get this out of the way now. 

Yes, I have two moms. They have been married since 2004, when the state legalized gay marriage. And yes, I know I’m going to be 18, so I was obviously born out of wedlock. This really is an odd term and not really relevant when you account for the fact my ‘dad’ was what I call a turkey baster. 

You guessed it. I’m an artificially inseminated baby. Same with my brother James. Basically, our moms knew whether they were legally married or not. They wanted a family. So they went through a lot of effort picking the sperm donor. I have no clue who the guy was. Yes, I say guy because James and I have the same donor. 

I happen to come from our mom Hope’s egg. So I inherited her fiery red hair, fair skin, green eyes, and freckles. I also inherited her temper and mouth. I’m not sure what I got from the donor, though mom jokes it’s probably where I got the brains. I guess there are worse things to inherit.

James came from our other mom, or Mamá as we call her, Jennifer’s egg. He got her dark hair, brown eyes. No one ever believes we are related because of how different we look. He got the donor’s looks, at least I think so since his face shape doesn’t favor Mamá’s or any men in her family. 

James apparently did not get the rebellious or politically active gene. He blends in too well with the douche canoes that attend this school. He’s actually embarrassed that I’m his older sister. Ironic since I’m embarrassed he’s my brother. 

He’s still pissed at me for the protest I held against the sexist regime that is our school athletics. They have limited sports available for girls, and otherwise, they tell you to join cheerleading. Right because I would totally debase myself by wearing a super mini skirt and crop top to jump around showing off my underwear, cheering for the asswipe jocks. 

James thinks I’m being too harsh, and I should stop being such a bitch about things. Like, he doesn’t get why I’m pissed about this shit. Then there’s Brant Jones, son of our very own Senator Jones gets away with sexual harassment. James thinks he’s great and doesn’t get why I dumped the prick in a week. 

The guy was a uber creep who tried to pressure me into sex. Like fucking hell. And then I found out the guy has sexually harassed most of the female population at the school one way or another. He even puts cameras in the girls' locker room! 

Yet James wants to be his friend? How do two very progressive lesbians raise a sexist neanderthal? This just tells me that our donor must be a sexist neanderthal since I can’t say my brother got these opinions for nurture. That or honestly, I think it’s the Y-chromosome as a whole. It genetically makes males morons.

Speaking for morons. I rolled my eyes as one of the Frost triplets walked past with Jane Burns clinging to his arm. I don’t know which of them is dumber. Jane because she doesn’t realize the Frost family uses people like tissues. Or whichever Frost because he either isn’t aware or doesn’t care that she’d only into him for status. 

“See you in gym class, Darius.” Jane purred, leaning on apparently Darius’s arm. I resisted the urge to throw up, knowing they were about to suck face while blocking my homeroom. But the strangest thing happened. He dodged her kiss. “Yeah, sure.” he grunted and headed down the hall, an orange backpack slung over one shoulder. 

I couldn’t help it. I snickered. “Mind your own business lesbo.” Jane scoffed at me. I rolled my eyes. “Real inventive, you homophobic bitch. Being called a lesbian, whether true or not, isn’t an insult. My moms are fucking awesome. But don’t worry, even if I am a muff diver, you couldn’t pay me to touch you.” I scoffed and pushed past her into English. 

That was these unimaginative snotty little shits best insults. They really do lack creativity. In two years of attending this school, they’ve only thrown insults at me because I have lesbian mothers or the usual ginger remarks. I heard better insults when I attended public school. 

I hate second-period gym class. I’d hate gym class no matter what period it is. I get that we need exercise and yadda. But really, the coach just uses it as an excuse to give players of whatever sport extra practice time. I grumbled as I slowly made my way to the gym. 

I grunted, coming around a blind corner at the bottom of the stairs running into the back of some idiot. “Watch where you’re going?” The neanderthal grunted at me as I moved around him. “Kiss my ass, Collin. And maybe try not just standing idly at the bottom of the stairs.” I scoffed, flipping him off.

“Bend over, and I’ll bite it.” Collin laughed, biting the air. Some of his jock pals joined him as they clamored down the stairs for gym class. “Yeah, cause I want to get rabies amongst whatever other diseases you carry.”I rolled my eyes, heading into the changing room.

I could still hear their laughter. I clenched my fists and resisted the urge to go deck them. I took a breath, held it till the count of four, then released it. Reminding myself that if I get into a fight… again… I’ll be expelled. And neither of my moms will be cool with that. I’d be killed or, worse, forced to do home school. 

I shuddered at that thought as I got changed for gym. I hate uniform gym clothes. I hate uniforms in general. They are just a way to crush the individual. They don’t make us equal like they try to claim. All it does is perpetuate gender stereotypes as well. It’s freaking 45℉ outside, and I still have to wear a skirt that is supposed to fall no higher than a credit card above the knee.

I might dislike the uniform less if I got to wear slacks. After two years of fighting for that and the school board still shut me down. Mostly because enough of the other girls argue they like the skirts. I know other girls don’t want to wear a skirt all damn year, but they are too afraid to speak out.

I sigh, stepping out into the gym getting in line with the other girls for roll call. Then we’ll get divided up into teams of four to play volleyball while the boys will divide up into teams of three to play basketball.

I fucking hate volleyball. It hurts my damn forearms. I’d rather play basketball. I’m damn good at it. I beat James in our one on one games at the house. I’ve also beat Dylan and Lance. They are the closest I get to cousins since they are my mom’s best friend’s boys. Sucks, they are older than me. It would have been cool to go to school with one of the Carter brothers.

I sighed and wandered to join Jessica, Layla, and Anne to form our volleyball team. “Can we just play the game, get through class, and ya know you do not get us in trouble?” Anne frowned, tossing the volleyball to me. “I’ll try.” I shrugged. It was honestly the best I could offer. 

We started playing and got into a decent rhythm. As I went to serve, I missed all because a basketball slammed into my back. “Mother fuckers…” I growled. “Yo! Summers! Little help?” Collin Cole shouted. I narrowed my eyes picking up the basketball, and glared at him.

“Um… red. The ball.” Collin gestured to the ball. “Just pass it over or roll it. Whatever.” he sighed, motioning with his hands how to pass or roll the ball. “Cass…” Jessica whispered my name, stressing it like a plea. I ignored that plea and checked the ball into his nuts. 

Collin went down like the sack of shit he is. “Why’d you do that?” Collin’s voice was an octave higher than usual. “You said a little help. I thought I’d aim for the smallest part of your body. I’d have aimed for your brain, but… wait, I think I did.” I smirked. 

“Cole!? Summers, what did you do?” Coach VanBrocklin blew his whistle and walked over to us. “I passed him the ball as he asked. Maybe you should work with him on his ball-handling.” I shrugged. Collin was glaring at me with his hazel eyes that looked almost like they were amber under the gym lights. 

“Summers, do I need to send you to the principal… again?” VanBrocklin let out a heavy sigh that shook his potbelly. For a gym teacher, he’s really out of shape. Like it’s fucking sad how out of shape this man is. 

“I’m good, coach. Summers didn’t do it intentionally. Hands slipped.” Collin assured him, getting to his feet. I arched an eyebrow. What the fucking hell? Oh, if he thinks he’s doing me some favor. I am not owing this dickweed shit. VanBrocklin eyed me but then nodded and went back across the gym.

“If you think this means I owe you, you have another thing coming.” I glared at Collin as VanBrocklin blew the whistle calling for the end of class. “We’ll figure out your bill later.” Collin winked as he half hustled, half limped to the boys' locker room. I flipped him off and went to change back into that god-awful uniform and go to Art.