Fractured - 1. Chapter 1"

Ever since lunch had begun, all I'd been given were cold stares and apathetic answers when I asked someone, "How do you feel about the new restrictions on the library?" But then, I met Peter.

The dude had long, curly red hair and wore tight clothes. He was probably the gayest person ever, and yet he floated under my radar like a strand of hair on a piece of paper.

When I got to Peter's lunch table, I was greeted with cold stares and loud music. Everyone there was sullen and silent. They didn't talk amongst themselves or seem to be having any fun. i didn't know it yet, but three of my best friends were sitting there. I saw Peter, and pointed to him, saying in my high-pitched girl voice, "You! You're in my math class! How do you feel about the tyrannical restrictions on the library?"

He had no idea what said restrictions were, so I had to spell it out for him- you had to scan in with your ID and you couldn't eat lunch.

He shrugged and said, "Whatever. I'm for 'em, I guess."

I rolled my eyes and jotted down his answer. Then, without any more words, I left and returned to the table where I and the rest of the Gay-Straight Alliance sat, never thinking anything of the guy who didn't really care about the library.

Later that day in gym, I saw one of the people who had been sitting at the table running around the track wearing a suit jacket. I jogged up to him and panted, "A suit jacket, huh? Why?"

"I want people to know how much I don't care." He sighed.

"Ohhh, you're one of those people, aren't you? The ones that don't care but actually do?" I asked.

He agreed with me and we proceeded to talk about nothing. It wasn't until I referred to him as a he to someone else who was running with us that he said, "It's she."

I whipped my head in her direction and asked, "Are you trans?"

She nodded. I squealed and said, "Oh my God, so am I!"

"Really? What's your name?" She said, high-fiving me.

"Zephyr."

"I'm Joan." She smiled.

In the thirty minutes that were left of gym, I learned a lot about Joan and her life. She was a stoner, she was planning to run away to San Francisco with her girlfriend in early November, and her parents didn't care one bit about her.

"You don't have to go." I said. "You can stay with me if you want."

She stared at me for a while and said, "That's sweet, but I can't live without my girlfriend. Being single is the worst."