Chapter 8 Don’t Underestimate the Power of Faking Confidence #3
Everyone ignores them for a moment, instead eyeing Liam, who looks an awful lot like a loading icon with his lips parted. Then he slowly shakes his head. “Oh god. I need to go after her, don’t I?” he asks.
Nobody gives him an answer, but he knows it all the same.
“Shit. I, of all people, should know not to listen to what everyone at that stupid school says without second-guessing them. Fuck.” Liam sighs.
“I should at least hear her side of the story, right? I’ll be back in a few minutes…
I hope,” he tells us. Without waiting for a reply, they jog after Veronica.
As I breathe in and out, in and out, I wait for Maya to crack a joke or say something completely random that will launch us into a whole new conversation again.
They’re really good at that, I’ve noticed.
Jumping from one topic to the other until you’ve lost track of what exactly they’re talking about.
But now Maya stays quiet. The only sound comes from the ebb and flow of the sea and from me swallowing hard, but neither sounds are loud enough to drive away my anxious thoughts.
Luckily, that’s when I realize that I’m able to break this silence, too.
“I wonder why people here are so different from those at school and back home.” I sigh, pushing my own thoughts away.
Everyone’s heads whip over to me, but it takes a little longer for someone to speak up. It’s Sloane who eventually answers: “Honestly? I was just wondering the same thing. Being here feels like I’ve, I don’t know, escaped to some kind of different world? One where I actually belong?”
It comes out like a question, like she’s not quite sure she’s making sense, but then Maya nods reassuringly. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I’ve rarely felt as safe as I feel when I’m here.”
“You know,” Noah begins, voice soft, “I used to think that way, too, but then I started to see the familiar faces here, and…I don’t think I still believe it’s the people who are different.
They’re almost exactly the same, except for the fact that the people who make high school so miserable aren’t the leaders here.
At this place, the people who normally hide in the shadows to protect themselves get to live a little without constantly being judged.
Because there’s no one to set rules and ruin the safe spaces here. ”
He looks at me for only a second, but I know he’s not just saying this for Sloane. His words are directed at me, too.
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said,” Maya tells him, and he shakes his head, throwing it back in a laugh.
“Thanks? I guess?”
Sloane stares at the sand below her feet as she thinks Noah’s words over, then looks back up with a sad smile.
“I guess you’re right, indeed,” she says, taking a deep breath.
“Living in the shadows really can serve as a form of protection. I kind of miss being able to do that these days.” She pauses, then explains, her voice shaking a little, “Ever since I…since…last summer, people just keep staring at me. They’re always watching what I’m doing.
I don’t know if it’s out of fear or pity or judgment, but I hate every second of it.
I just want to go back to how things were before they found out. ”
When she pauses, my brother says, “Hey, you can tell us anything, but if you don’t want to or aren’t ready yet, that’s okay. There’s no pressure at all.” He puts his hand on Sloane’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly, but she shakes her head.
“It’s fine. I really want you to know. For someone to know and not judge.
” Noah rubs her back, giving her the strength to go on.
“I was, um, hospitalized last summer. That’s why I disappeared and had to cancel my plans to come to SMASH!
” She clears her throat, trying to swallow down her emotions, but they come right back up, audible in every word she speaks.
“I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder a long time ago and have been taking meds for it for a while, but yeah…Things got really bad last summer, so then people found out, and now I’m no longer just the quiet girl anymore; I’m the bipolar one.
Which is fine and all, but…I just wish they’d accept me as I am instead of thinking of me as broken. ”
A single tear rolls down Sloane’s cheek. She wipes it away immediately, but more keep falling now, especially when Noah pulls her into a hug and lets her head rest on his shoulder.
“Can we do anything for you, Sloane?” Maya asks. “Because if I have to burn down a city for you, just say the word and I will do it. Well, metaphorically at least.” They smile. “Or I can just tell you how worthy and wonderful you are over and over again, of course.”
A soft laugh escapes Sloane, but still she shakes her head. “I think…I think I’d like to not feel alone in this right now. In being judged about my identity.”
Yasmeen is the first to speak up at that, telling us all about her experiences wearing a hijab in high school.
From teachers demanding she take it off to students telling her it’s so sad that she has to wear a hijab because of her, and she quotes, “misogynistic religion.” It’s as if they forgot that there’s a possibility that it is, in fact, her choice to wear one.
Because she wants to. Because it’s important to her.
After that, Maya reflects on what it’s like to be a nonbinary lesbian of color at high school.
“It’s like people think I’m too many things at once.
Indian, nonbinary, and a raging lesbian?
Impossible, right? They want me to pick just one struggle when life doesn’t work that way at all.
” They sigh, shaking their head, then letting out a snort.
“If only they knew I have ADHD, too. But yeah, I don’t miss high school even one bit.
I just hope college will be at least a little better. ”
Sloane has stopped crying. She’s still leaning on Noah, seemingly exhausted, but I do think this really helped comfort her—even though hearing about how badly our friends have been treated is incredibly frustrating, too.
It’s just nice to know you’re not the only one going through this.
That the problem doesn’t lie with you, because other wonderful people who deserve better go through it, too.
You can share your story as well, I remind myself. But even though I’m no longer that scared of opening my mouth thanks to Sierra, getting vulnerable still feels like something foreign. Like a language I haven’t spoken in so long that I’ve slowly started to forget the words.
Luckily, I know just the way to fix that.