Page 3 of Always There Bayou
“Denny, look what Cory made you!” I hear Ian say from behind me. My heart skips a beat, and I turn to see him running up with my painting. I try to snatch it from him, but he ducks and hands the painting over to Denny. “Isn’t it ugly?”
“Fuck you, Ian!” I yell, and within seconds, my Dad is outside and scolding me for cussing my brother out. He stands off to the side and smirks. I wanted to punch him so badly.
After making me apologize, he made sure Ian went to do something else so he wouldn’t bother us. I took Denny’s hand and led her outside and up into the treehouse that my dad had built us last year.We get comfy on some beanbag chairs, and she places the painting down carefully.
“I’m sorry it’s so ugly,” I sigh.
“No, it’s perfect!” She assures me, and my eyes snap up to meet hers. She smiles softly before getting up to join me on the beanbag chair. It was a tight squeeze, but I didn’t mind. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. “Nobody has ever made me anything for my birthday before, and I love that it’s from you. I’m going to keep it forever.”
I could feel my heart melt at her words, and I felt so accomplished. It may not have been the best painting in the world, but at least she loved it. That’s all that mattered.
2005.
Denali“Denny”Houston-August 17th - 13 years old.
I was taller than most of the other girls my age, and I still had a couple more years of growing to go. My uncle tried to get me to play volleyball or something, but I’ve never been that into sports. Honestly, the only one I did watch was basketball, and that’s only because Cory played it.
Speaking of Cory, she was one of the only freshmen to make the varsity girls’ team this year. After two years as the top player at our middle school, it wasn’t surprising that she’d been able to attend basketball camp this past summer and showed why she belonged on the team. Now, she was one of the most popular girls in school…even though she hated the attention.
“Hey, Denny,” Cory says as she takes the seat in the chair beside me. I wave to her with a smile as she busies herself with tying up her hair.
I wasn’t sure when I’d started having these feelings for her, but lately, all I could think about when I was around her was how pretty she was. How good she smelled.
I watched quietly as she tugged on her twists to make sure they were secure, my eyes freezing on the slight muscles she’d magically started building. She’d always been attractive, but something was different now. Maybe it was because we rarely saw each other this past summer.
I spent a lot of time in New Orleans with my cousin Lavender and her family, while Cory stayed here because of camp. Every other week, I was down there, and although I had an amazing time hanging out with my favorite cousin, I was happy to be back home for the school year. It meant there was more time for me and Cory to kick it like always.
“Uh, why are you staring at me?” Cory chuckles, pulling me back to the present. I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
“I was not,” I waved her off. “I was making sure that you did it right. You know you usually ask me to tie up your hair.”
“Aww, you’re cute,” she smirked, which caused my heart to jump. This wasn’t the first time she’d called me cute, but it made me feel a way I’d never felt for her. “Did you miss me?”
“Not even.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. Her eyes traveled the length of my body, and I was so confused. Was she checking me out? “You look good. I like the cargo pants.”
I smile and thank her because it took so much courage to wear this outfit today. Over the last year, I’ve been starting to dress inclothes and styles that make me comfortable. So, that means fewer dresses and more cargo pants and flannel shirts. I wasn’t really sure what my style was, except that it was somewhere between what the guys wore and what the tomboyish girls wore.
Whatever it was, it was perfect for me.
“Thanks, I-”
“Y’all don’t think it’s weird that y'all are girls that dress like boys?” We hear someone at the table behind us ask.
We turn and are face-to-face with two girls who have been picking on me since elementary school. I was instantly uncomfortable, and I quickly turned back around. Usually, I could stand up to bullies, but my choice of style was still a touchy subject for me, and they knew it.
“Y’all don’t think it’s weird that y’all are annoying as hell?” Cory shoots back, and the class goes quiet. The girls start to say some really rude and offensive things to us, which makes Cory hop up from her seat. “What the fuck did you just say?! Say it to my face!”
“Gladly!” One of the girls says as she stands up and gets in Cory’s face. She repeats what she says, and Cory is instantly on her. “Ow! Let me go!”
The next couple of minutes go by in a blur. Everyone is egging on the fight, and teachers are running in trying to break them up. In the end, Cory gets suspended for fighting, even after we try to explain what happened. But none of the teachers or staff cared about the homophobic remarks that were being thrown at us.
It felt like they agreed, and it made mesick.Not only emotionally, but physically. I ended up going home with Cory and her dad.
We had to explain what happened, and her dad was furious, assuring us that he was gonna go back to the school tomorrow and get to the bottom of it. We thanked him and he left us to watch TV in the den together.
“Thank you for defending me,” I tell Cory.
