She shook her head to try to throw the crazy conversation she was
having with herself away.

"That was totally weird," she whispered.

She liked Sam as a friend, that’s all. She was straight and she
couldn’t afford an identity crisis right now. Yet, there was a
morbid curiosity that was peeking around at her and refused to go
away. She decided to test herself with a little self quiz, just to
make her feel even more looney with the self talks.

Do I find guys attractive?
Check
Do I find girls attractive?
Check, but that is normal, right? Every girl can admit another girl
is attractive.
Do I find Sam attractive?
Check, she had great hair and gorgeous facial features, plus she
does have really cute dorky ears. She has a great *****, which I
wouldn’t know except that Josh brought my attention to it once. Her
expressions are adorable even when she’s being an absolute ***** to
me, and she has really nice lips.

Brooke reviewed her answers and found only one conclusion, either
she was attracted to Sam in a capacity beyond just friends, or she
had started to channel the spirit of Melissa Etheridge. There were
all kinds of flaws with that first possibility. For instance,the
fact that she had never fathomed liking girls in that way, she
didn’t like flannel or tools, and she was the popular head
cheerleader girl. She was so stuck on stereotyping her feelings that
she forgot the thing important fact that had started her down this
path of thought, the fact that Sam made her happy. She grabbed her
towel and headed upstairs, feeling a little spooked. Maybe a shower
would wash away the thoughts that otherwise refused to loosen their
grip on her.

When she entered the bathroom she stopped and looked into the
mirror. She still looked like herself. No one had given her a mullet
or replaced her workout clothes with butch attire. This moment was
strikingly similar to the first time she and Josh had gone all the
way. She had thought ***** was supposed to change you in some obvious
way. Weren’t thoughts like the ones she was having supposed to make
her change? She missed the point. She was who she was always
supposed to be. She was looking at the situation through the eyes of
a society that restricts identity to norms.

This was the precise reason that she found herself feeling the
pressure to be perfect, ***** wasn’t perfect. The whole meaning of
***** had the distinct tang of non-perfection. The feelings were
strong though. They were straining to get through her wave self
doubt. She could feel happiness bubbling right behind her self
inflicted wall of perfection. That wall was like the Great Wall of
China. It was large enough to see form space. She would always
struggle with this, and to add the possibility of having feelings
for her almost step sister was sensory overload. She opened the
drawer beside her left hand, and took out Sam’s brush. There were a
few dark brown hairs flowing from the bristles. She lifted it to her
nose and deeply inhaled.