Identity Crisis

The wind was especially cold today, Fiona noticed, as she trudged glumly through the early morning chill, headed for another dull day at school. The icy breeze, almost painful against the tiny bit of skin she'd left exposed, whipped her long, dirty blonde hair messily about her pale face, making the poor girl bitterly regret losing her favorite wool knit cap.

She could've driven, of course, but despite the miserable weather, she liked to walk to school. It wasn't far, and she didn't want to give the juvenile delinquents at her school the chance to vandalize one of her most prized possessions. And as an added bonus, she found the five minute walk was just invigorating enough to make sure she was nice and alert for the ordeal that was the average day at high school.

Not that her school was particularly bad, no worse than any other, anyway. But Fiona found she was happiest hanging around with a small group of close friends, and the crush of people she faced every time she walked through those front doors was physically and mentally draining. It had gotten to the point where she took great pains to go unnoticed, purposely choosing drab clothes and hairstyles so as not to stand out too much.

Today, as on most days, her long hair was brushed out straight, and she wore very little makeup. Her lithe, lean form was mostly hidden under a pair of faded Levis and a semi-fitted Led Zeppelin t-shirt. But despite all her efforts, she still garnered more attention than she liked, mostly due to her striking violet eyes and her lovely, heart-shaped face. She'd gotten a pair of thick-rimmed glasses once, in a vain attempt to tone herself down a bit, but started leaving them at home when the 'sexy librarian' jokes had frayed her nerves almost to the breaking point.

Thankfully, for the sake of Fiona's sanity, high school boys had a pathetically short attention span. She did attract a great deal of male attention at first, but after a while of not responding to their advances, they tended to move on to their next potential conquest. An unfortunate side effect of this was the rumors that had begun to spread about her sexuality, but if it kept the boys off her back, Fiona could stomach the derision and ridicule.

Fiona arrived at school a half hour early, as per usual, and headed straight for the library, where she knew her best friends would be waiting. She shrugged out of her wool coat and scarf when she crossed the threshold into the building proper, thankful that her locker was on the way to the library. The slim blonde strode purposefully past the students milling about in the hallway, ignoring any whispers or glances directed towards her, even as the occasional "dyke" or "lesbo" reached her ears. It was almost a daily thing now, so it didn't bother her as much as it once did, but Fiona did still cringe inwardly whenever she heard it. There was always such hate and condescension in their voices, and it hurt, no matter how much she tried to pretend it didn't.

She breathed a great sigh of relief when she finally reached her locker, and quickly stuffed her coat and scarf inside. But not quickly enough, it seemed. When she slammed the door shut, the smirking face of Paul Stevens was waiting on the other side, wearing a leer that made her skin crawl even as his eyes roved up and down her lean body.

Fiona tried to steer around him and scurry off down the hallway, but the tall, rangy teenager moved quickly to block her way.

"Whoa, whoa, where you goin', gorgeous? I just wanna talk."

The blonde sighed loudly, refusing to meet his gaze. "Look, would you just move, please? I've got somewhere I need to be."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be friendly, okay? No need to get uppity about it. I've seen you around school, and I thought we could spend some time together, maybe get to know each other a little better."

"I'm not trying to be rude here, okay? But I'm really not interested, and I really do have work to do, so if you don't mind-"

"I've heard the rumors about you, you know," Paul said glibly, smoothly cutting her off as she tried to move around him again. "I guess they're true, then. You really are a fuckin' carpet-muncher."

Fiona's temper finally flared up then. "What, just because I'm not interested in you then I must be a lesbian? First of all, how fucking arrogant are you? And second, go to hell, you pig!"

She shoved past him forcefully, just barely resisting the urge to drive her knee into his balls, and marched quickly down the hallway towards the library, trembling with tightly suppressed rage. She half-expected to hear Paul's heavy footsteps coming after her, but the hallway was deathly silent after her little outburst. Some of the girls even looked impressed as she passed them, and Fiona took a moment to feel proud of herself for standing up to him. With any luck this spectacle would put those ridiculous rumors to rest once and for all.

When Fiona finally reached the library, her sanctuary, she immediately felt calmer, more at peace. It was a big, diverse collection, and walking among the stacks always set her mind to running. The shy blonde was a great lover of literature, and something about being surrounded by the accumulated knowledge of human history, everything from Confucius to Carl Sagan, made her feel as if the world made more sense here than anywhere else. Here, logic and reason ruled, and the right words in the right order could change the world. Here, no one cared about what silly rumors were flying around, and the four years of high school were but a cosmic eyeblink. Here, ignorant misogynists like Paul Stevens were quickly forgotten in the annals of human history, and civilization continued its slow but inexorable march toward enlightenment with or without them.

Outside of this room, it was all too easy for myopia to rear its ugly head, and for even Fiona to forget how big the world really was. That all of this trouble would be behind her very soon. That they were all living in Plato's cave, seeing only the shadows on the wall, with no inkling of the true shape and scope of reality.

"Fi! Over here!"

Fiona's head snapped around, and she smiled as she saw three girls sitting around a table in one of the study rooms set off to the side of the main library, one of them waving excitedly at her, the rest smiling warmly in her direction. Lisa Andrews, Daisy Wills, and Rianne Maslow, her three best friends in the world. Seeing them always lifted her spirits.

Lisa, ever enthusiastic, leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Fiona's neck, her thick, brown curls tickling the blonde's nose as they embraced. "Hey, girl!" she said, beaming. "How are things?"

"Hey, guys," Fiona replied, giving the other girls a small wave as she and Lisa separated. "Well, you know, the same as usual, Lise. Assholes giving me grief in the hallway. But I just close my eyes and think of Paris, and the will to murder slowly fades away." She laughed, not without humor, and the other girls joined in.

"Preach, sister," Daisy said, raising an imaginary glass, her honey brown eyes sparkling, wavy auburn hair spilling across her face. "This school will do it to anyone. Ten times a day I'm picturing myself with my hands around someone's neck. And that's on the weekends."

They all laughed merrily, and Fiona took her seat between Lisa and Rianne, finally feeling comfortable for the first and likely only time that day.

"So who was it today?" Rianne asked in her soft, lilting voice, brushing an unruly lock of midnight black hair behind her ear, her grey eyes searching Fiona's face.

"It doesn't matter," the blonde answered dismissively, plopping her backpack onto the table beside those of her friends. "I'd really rather not think about it anymore, honestly."

"If you say so," Rianne answered, doubt coloring her voice. "But are you okay, though? Really?"

Rianne was wickedly perceptive, and often caught things the others missed. Sometimes it annoyed Fiona to no end, though mostly it only endeared her to the quiet brunette more. Fiona gave her a softer, more genuine smile. "I'm fine, Ree, really. But thanks."

Rianne smiled back, and clasped the blonde's hand briefly, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"Okay, enough of this Hallmark crap," Lisa broke in, softening her outburst with a mischievous smirk. "Let's get to the really important stuff. What are we up to today?"

Daisy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Umm, Plato, I think. Symposium."

Rianne frowned. "Didn't we do Plato last week? Or was that Heraclitus?"

Fiona shook her head. "It was Aristophanes, actually. Lysistrata."

Daisy snapped her fingers. "Yeah, that's right. Damn, these Greek writers all start to sound the same after a while."

Lisa gasped. "Heresy! You should be taken out in the street and flogged, you plebe! Have you no respect for the classics?"

Daisy smirked. "Flogged?" she teased. "Someone's been reading too much Marquis de Sade. Is there something you want to tell us, Lisa?"

Lisa leaned forward provocatively, leering at the giggling brunette. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she purred, a sultry, come-hither look adorning her delicate features.

"Not really, no," Daisy deadpanned, feigning nonchalance at her friend's blatant flirting. "If you have any bondage proclivities, please, feel free to keep them to yourself. I'm an intellectual; I have no interest in pleasures of the flesh."

Undeterred, Lisa laughed. "Ooh, pleasures, you say? So you do like my flesh, then! Ha! Give me a week and I'll have you singing a whole different tune, lovely Daisy."

"Guys, please," Rianne broke in, blushing bright red. "Do the mating dance on your own time, if you don't mind. I'm more interested in Greek philosophy at the moment, call me old-fashioned."

"Seriously," Fiona added, with a grateful nod in Rianne's direction. "You guys should just do it already, that would be less painful to watch."

Lisa turned her smirk on Fiona then, looking deep into her violet eyes. "What makes you think we haven't already done that?"

She laughed loudly when the blonde's mouth dropped open and her eyes got comically wide. "Jesus, Fi, you're so easy. How can you be so smart and so gullible at the same time? You'd know if I fucked Daisy, because she'd still be chained to my bed. Let's be honest-we both know who would be in charge there."

"Ha, don't you wish!" Daisy chimed in, her golden-brown eyes flashing. "You'd lie down like a rug for me and you know it."

Rianne cleared her throat loudly. "Guys. Plato, remember? I'm really not comfortable with this conversation."

This time it was Daisy's turn to smirk. "Well, we landed on the wrong book today then, sweet Ree. Symposium is about love, remember?"

"Love, not sex," Rianne retorted. "They're not the same thing."

Fiona tuned out as her friends bickered, staring blankly at the leatherbound book in front of her. The basis of their argument was something she thought about often. Love, and sex, and the intersection between the two. Because sometimes it did worry her that she had no interest in the boys at school. She'd thought it was because they were so venal, so immature, but there still should have been some degree of physical attraction. After all, love and sex weren't the same thing-though they did often overlap-and it was possible to be attracted to someone in whom she had no romantic interest. But there had never been so much as a twinge.

The only people who held any interest at all for Fiona were her friends, but that wasn't romantic or physical love. Was it? Symposium also discussed the subject of Platonic love, could it be that? The waters of her sexuality were murky at best, and those waters she'd always feared to tread, perhaps frightened of what she'd find there.

Naturally, the idea that there were aspects of Fiona's own psyche of which she was entirely unaware was distressing, to say the least. So she usually avoided this line of thinking, while knowing fully well it was a path she would need to follow to the end sooner or later. Preferably later, when she didn't feel like such a frightened little girl all the time.

She'd thought, since she turned 18 a few months earlier, that these things would somehow become clearer, but there was no magical epiphany as of yet, no sudden and revelatory understanding that signified her transition to adulthood. Rianne had turned 18 a month before that, and it seemed to Fiona that she was wiser now, with a spiritual and emotional equilibrium she hadn't possessed before. But that could very well have just been her imagination. After all, Rianne had always been an old soul.

A gentle hand gripping her own brought Fiona back to the present, and she looked over to see Rianne's large, grey eyes gazing piercingly into her own, concerned. "Are you okay, Fi?" she asked softly, in that breathy, melodic voice of hers. "You seem a little...distant. Are you thinking about what happened earlier?"

Fiona, intensely aware of her friends' eyes on her, just shook her head, but resolved to talk to Rianne alone later. She loved Lisa and Daisy, but neither of them had the ability to see straight into her soul like Rianne did. It was always just easier to talk to the soft-spoken Rianne than her other, more ebullient friends. "No, I'm just...letting my mind wander, I guess. Not really in the mood for Plato today, I suppose. Sorry."

The other three girls exchanged significant looks, but before any of them could venture a response, the first bell rang, signaling that it was time to get to class. Lisa and Daisy shot apologetic looks at Fiona, then left without another word, but Rianne firmly gripped the blonde's arm, stopping her from following.

"We'll talk later, after school. Okay? Regardless of what you say, I can see something is wrong, and I'm worried about you. Meet me at my house, this afternoon. All right?"

She stared Fiona down, pinning her in place with her forceful gaze until the blonde nodded her assent. Then Rianne's face softened, and she did something that shook Fiona to her core. She leaned forward and placed a gentle, affectionate kiss on the corner of her mouth. Then, after one last, unreadable look, Rianne tenderly caressed the blonde's cheek, then turned and left.

Fiona thought about that kiss, and that look, for the rest of the day. Her schoolwork didn't suffer, since she could practically sleepwalk through her classes, but she was still massively distracted. Images of those soft, grey eyes and that playful, whimsical smile swam in her head, fascinating her in ways she hadn't known were possible. She could still feel the plush, yielding press of the other girl's lips, and the silky smoothness of her hands. She could smell the warm, earthy fragrance of her hair and the sweet, floral scent of her perfume.

Fiona had never found herself so utterly taken with someone like this before, and she'd never expected to feel this way about another girl. It was disquieting, not least because she wondered if the other kids at school had seen something in her she hadn't. But she would come to realize, on further reflection, that they had only started the rumor out of spite, and turned out to be right by sheer happenstance. Even a broken clock is right twice a day, after all.

The school day had never seemed to crawl by so slowly, and for someone who dreaded every day there, that was saying a lot. Several times the willowy blonde had even forgotten what class she was in, only reminding herself with a quick glance down to the textbook that lay open and mostly ignored on her desk.

The whole day, she had been running over all her interactions with Rianne in her mind, examining every conversation, every look, every errant touch, looking for some hidden subtext that she may have missed at the time. Rianne did seem closer to Fiona than to the other two, and the two of them did have a lot in common, but she couldn't say whether there was any attraction there.

The blonde couldn't deny that Rianne was stunning, with her porcelain skin, delicate, feminine features, and her slender, voluptuous figure. She wasn't bubbly or outwardly affectionate, like the stereotypical girl, but she was kind and sweet, with a brilliant mind and a quietly reserved personality. Some of Fiona's most treasured memories were sleeping over at Rianne's house, just the two of them, discussing Voltaire or Sartre deep into the small hours of the morning. Fiona had never been attracted to anyone, girl or boy, but something about Rianne made her-different, somehow.

It was hard to explain, even harder to rationalize in her own mind, but she'd always felt a special connection to the grey-eyed beauty that had nothing to do with sex or gender, but went much deeper. Her heart would speed up whenever she saw Rianne, and the blonde almost always felt an unconscious smile tugging at her lips when those intense eyes found her own.

So, all things considered, the last bell couldn't ring soon enough as far as Fiona was concerned. She knew that she and Rianne had a lot to talk about, and the blonde still wasn't sure what to say, or even what she wanted. She was even less sure of what Rianne wanted, or how she felt. But it was no use trying to guess, so Fiona resolved to wait until their meeting later to make up her mind about anything, as hard as that was to do.

Rianne lived almost all the way across town, so Fiona would need to stop by her house first to get her car, then drive to her friend's house from there. Once the final bell rang, she rushed to her locker, then out the front doors as quickly as she could without running and drawing attention to herself. She hardly felt the chill outside as she quickly dashed home, and though the trip seemed to take forever, when she tried to recall it later it was all a blur.

Fiona lived with her dad, just the two of them, since her mother had passed when she was 13. As much as she loved her dad, who was a good, hard-working man, she couldn't help but be glad he was still at work today. She wasn't sure she could explain why she was so sweaty and out of breath, and certainly not why she was in such a hurry to leave right after she got home from school. There was only room in her head right now for one conversation.

The impatient blonde rushed upstairs, peeling off her coat and scarf as she went. She tossed her stuff carelessly onto her bed, grabbed some clean clothes out of her dresser, and hurried into her bathroom. Fiona quickly stripped off her sweaty clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the tiled floor, and turned on the shower. The wait was killing her, but she wasn't about to go to Rianne's house in dirty clothes and covered in sweat.

Fiona showered in a hurry, frantically shampooing her hair and scrubbing every inch of her body, wanting to be as clean and fresh as possible for her prospective crush. After rinsing as thoroughly as possible, she stepped out and toweled herself dry, deciding not to bother with moisturizing or blow-drying her hair. That would just take too long, and having wet hair didn't bother her too much.

The blonde picked up her bra and panties then,-a pink set with black lace trim that she'd gotten at Victoria's Secret, an uncharacteristic purchase for her- and slipped them on, wondering if she'd subconsciously picked her sexiest lingerie for Rianne's sake. She halfway hoped not, since it would seem a bit presumptuous on her part, but if it did come to that, she was glad she was putting her best foot forward, so to speak.

As Fiona finished dressing, in her tightest pair of jeans and a low-cut black camisole, she started to wonder what kind of lingerie Rianne would be wearing. What color would it be? Did she wear thongs, or boyshorts? Or something else entirely? The blonde personally thought that Rianne would look fantastic in black, or grey, to match her eyes. But honestly, with her figure and complexion, she would look great in almost anything.