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It was the first day of sophomore year when he first saw her, sitting all by herself at a back table, darkly-lined eyes staring into her tomato soup. She was a little too tall, too pale, with nearly all black-and-grey clothing. Her hair was awkwardly parted down the middle and pulled into two braids, as though she was trying to be as meek and inconspicuous as possible while simultaneously channeling her inner Wednesday Addams. For some unknown reason, that grabbed his attention. He set his tray down across from her, noting her jump in surprise as he did.
“Mind if I sit here?” He inquired, not bothering to wait for her answer as he slid into the seat. He had to sit somewhere. He reasoned that the worst she could do was glower at him the entire time or get up and leave. However, she just nodded briefly before turning her eyes down again. But Damian wasn’t done. He decided to try and talk to her. She just grabbed at him for some reason.
“Thanks. I’m glad to be away from those assholes over there.” He motioned to the rest of the space all around them as she looked up again. “What’s your name? I’m–” He was about to continue when she cut him off.
“Yeah, I know you. You’re Damian Hubbard, the–”
“–gay kid” He finished with her. “Yeah.” The girl said with a grin. “I’ve heard.” It was the first time he had seen her grin. She looked like she had just finished eating a plateful of shit and was damn well happy to tell you all about it. He immediately liked that grin. “So do you have a name or what?”
“I’m Janis.”
“Jaaaaaanis.” He elongated the name, trying it out. “You know, I think I had a great aunt named Janis.”
“It IS kind of an old name.” The girl now named Janis admitted. She sounded like she had thought about this considerably herself. “It’s really only used for old people nowadays. I don’t know anyone younger than 60 with my name.”
Damian spoke up quickly. “I do. And she’s my friend.” He looked at her pointedly, praying she got the message he was conveying. He hoped the risk he had taken would pay off as he awaited her response. It did. Upon her realization, there was that shit-eating grin again.
...
Damian Hubbard, the only openly gay kid in their grade. He had made himself an outsider when he had more or less announced it to the entire school last year when Shane Omen shoved him in the hallway and called him a fag. He remembered that day vividly.
“Knock it off Shane.”
“But are you? Are you a fag?” He taunted, still holding on to his backpack to prevent him from leaving. Damian tugged, harder this time, but the antagonist refused to budge. “Tell me Hubbard, are you a faggot or not?”
“FINE!” Damian yelled at the other boy, shocking even himself with the bellowing sound coming from his lungs. Shane stepped back in surprise, letting go of the backpack. Damian gripped it tightly and pulled it closer, but didn’t leave. “You’re right Shane! I’m a big fucking gay!” He then turned to the assembled crowd, yelling “And I don’t care who knows it! I’M A FAG! And damn proud of it!” He slung the backpack over his shoulder and shoved through the shocked onlookers, willing himself not to break into a run. Running was as good as losing. Instead, he kept his pace to a brisk walk, staring straight ahead all the while. And as he moved, the adrenaline coursing through his veins gave him an odd, calming sense of pride. Sophomore year would be different. He would make sure of that.
...
After that first day, Damian and Janis sat together every day at lunch. Within two weeks, she had his number programmed into her phone and was sending him memes on a daily basis. He realized how much he enjoyed watching her around week three. She was just one of those truly interesting people, and her interactions with the world were just so… genuine. Like how he noticed how her eyes betrayed her, flitting up from her lunch every opportunity they got to survey the cafeteria. She was an observer at its finest. Or how as the year progressed, she underwent a sort of metamorphosis.
First, it was just her clothing; starting with chunky shoes that looked like they had seen many feet before hers, then it was skirts, initially over her dark jeans but soon paired with leggings and hole-riddled tights and fishnet stockings. Her shirts got brighter and her sweaters turned into baggy jackets and sweatshirts he was sure were ten years in either direction from being in fashion. He decided that was a pretty good way to describe Janis: secretive and stoic on the outside, but her curiosity about the world and desire to submerge herself in it always won out. He’s pretty sure that’s why she’s quickly become one of his favorite humans on the planet.
...
One day, four months into their friendship Janis showed up with her hair haphazardly bleached into ombré submission, likely done alone in her bathroom with an entire bottle of peroxide, and the side of her head shaved. It looked slightly green in places and dried and straw-like in others, and on anyone else, Damian would probably have spent a good five minutes skewering the unfortunate wearer with insults. However, something about the way Janis grinned confidently as she slid into her seat made him return her smile instantly.
“New shoes, dahling?”
“Shut up you goon. It took me all night to do this.” Now she looked a little hesitant, nervous as to what he would say. He smiled at her again, hoping to reassure her of his sincerity.
“It looks amazing Janis. Seriously, you do ombré almost as well as Beyoncé. And NO ONE does ombré like Beyonce, honey. Beyoncé practically INVENTED ombré.”
Janis just shook her head. “Incredible. Simply incredible.” But she was grinning again.