Fuchsia Kiss

By , Culpeper, VA

It’s 2007. Riot! By Paramore just came out. And so had I.
“Get your ----, F! It’s time to go,” my mom screamed down at me, at 0730. I was straightening and poofing my hair. I already had my makeup done.
“Just a minute,” I had to yell, even though she was halfway down my stairs, because I had Paramore blasting. ‘They taped over yoour mouth, scribbled out the truth wiith their lies.’  Haley sang these lines that would grow  to mean so much to me. And with the end of the song, I was ready. I grabbed my black in-covered bag and threw my CD’s and player in. I didn’t care that I still had just a CD player, I didn’t have anyone to impress or talk to.
“You can’t wear that! You look ridiculous! Even more than usual,” she said as she pointed at my home-made pride shirt. I sighed at her and threw on my Skelanimals hoodie, promising not to take it off.
After a tense fifteen minute drive to school, I finally got to relax and just listen to the new Paramore CD. I was sitting under the bleachers, alone and content. Then I saw her.
She was looking for somewhere to go, somewhere to fit in.She ran into Marcy, who spit her gum on her. I turned my player off, got up, and walked right up to Marcy. The girl had tortured me since fourth grade, from the day she moved here.
“What do you want, F-f-freak?” Oh yes. The nickname. I stuttered, and it became who I was. “Or should I say F-f-fairy? T-t-tranny?”
“I’m sorry, Macey, but the trash is over there,” I pointed at the lunch area across the way. “Oh hi,” I turned to the girl, “What’s your name?” Marcy started yelling in the background, but all I could hear and see was her.
“Ilya,” she nearly whispered. Out of nowhere Marcy’s fist connected with my face. I laughed and Ilya gasped. My lip started to bleed, my lipstick smudged onto my cheek and chin, and Marcy’s hand. I laughed again as I tasted my blood.
“Ya know, Macey, this isn’t the best way to greet Ilya.”
“It’s Marcy! And you know that,” she fumed.
“Well, Macey,” I emphasized Macey, “I think that Ilya and I should get going.” i gently grabbed Ilya’s hand, and Marcy stuttered. “What’s the matter, Macey? C-c-cat got your tongue?” I walked away, tugging Ilya with me. 
Once we reached the bleachers, she let out a sigh. “What was that?”
“Marce doesn’t like me. Never has. And I used to stutter,” I paused, thinking, “My name is Fae.” I smiled hopefully.
“Nice to meet you, Fae. I like your hair!”
“Thank you, I like yours, too. You’re super pretty.”
We were both smiling and blushing awkwardly, and the bell rang. We agreed to meet there at lunch. And we did. We became very close over the next few months. She never asked about the names I was called, she never asked about my scars. She only saw them once or twice, when we slept over and it got warm. By November, we shared a bed at sleepovers.
One night, after a long game of “Guess The Song”, and about an hour of sleep, she woke me up.
“Fae, Fae, Fae,” she was standing over me. “Fae!” I opened my eyes. She had my shirt off. My scars showed. My chest showed. My shorts legs were pulled up. Scars showed. A tear fell from her nose as her head hung above me. She pointed at the newest patch of cuts, just scabbed over, and the burn next to it. “What.. what happened?” She looked so.. So.. heart broken. She helped me sit up and gave me a blanket.
“I.. I felt absolutely terrible one night, you weren’t at school and Marce and her boyfriend Lance got me under the bleachers and they called me names and Lance was being mean about Kindergarten and Marce fourth and they were just so mean and my parents don’t care they don’t like me at all and Lance and Marce wouldn’t shut up about and then he started hitting me and he was too strong for me to fight back and he took my cigarette and burned me and stole my shirt and so I ran home and my older brother was there and he wouldn’t let me get food and he broke my door and..” I kept going for about twenty more minutes. She let me rant and she wiped away my tears and she just held me. She let me cry.
After I had calmed down, we talked. She kept holding me, I fell asleep in her arms. That was the first night that she knew I was, for a fact, that I’m transgender. She accepted me. She didn’t even question me. It was then that I knew I loved her. I thought so, at least.
When we woke up, it was just like every other time. Mortal Kombat and Monster; whatever we wanted.
That Christmas, I stayed at her house. My family was embarrassed of me, ashamed, so I was supposed to stay in my room anyway. She got me a dress and makeup. I got her posters, band tees, and a new pair of converse. I stayed at her place all winter break.
New Years. We blasted Paramore all night. As the ball dropped, Hayley sang ‘They taped over your mouth, scribbled out the truth with their lies’ and we kissed. Our hair ? jet black, nails ? blood red, but our cheeks and lips ? a fuchsia kiss.






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