#subtle glances

Haha I see what you mean

x x x

And when Louis changes sides, Harry just adjusts

x x

Pairings: Mostly Red Beauty, but Red Snow, Swan Queen, Sleeping Warrior, Rumbelle, and Snowing elements as well. There’s probably some I’m forgetting, but it’s an AU, you get the gist.

Rating: T (for cursing)

Summary: High School AU. Ruby Lucas lives in a non-cursed, normal small town Storybrooke, Maine, where excitement includes hearing about the antics of Rupert Gold, being in love with her best friend, and coming up with new reasons for why she’s late to the diner for work. That’s all about to change when Belle French moves to town…

Author's Note: Guys, I'm going to try to write the next chapter quickly, I'm just not sure what all's going to be in it yet...

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Chapter 4

Running. Running is good. After all, removing yourself from the situation is what experts say to do right? Ooooo! Shit! Sorry about that! I’d help you pick it up but I’m too busy following the advice of experts. Or maybe experts say to remove yourself from confrontational situations. Whatever, I’m still going to run. I like running. Running is good. Shit. That girl’s hair is the same color as--nope, the name escapes me. I have never in my life met someone named Belle French with gorgeous hair and gorgeous eyes who’s taken by a scumbag lowlife who makes shady, yet creepily accurate deals. Never. In my life. THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!? THAT’S RIGHT! Stupid bird. She--this fictional, non-existent person is totally not making me call Emma. Emma is just a nice person to talk to, and totally not about my problems. I like Emma. I should just call her like this more, y’know, in a way that totally isn’t because I’m freaking out here. Pickuppickuppickup SUCCESS!

“Hello?”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemmmmmmmmmmaaaaa!” your voice comes out in a terrified whine. You don’t even notice that Emma’s hello sounded different from usual.

“I’m sorry, but Emma is busy right now.” If you had been walking, you would have frozen when Regina’s voice came through the phone. However, as you are running, you simply decide to keep running. You also decide that now is not the time for pleasantries with Regina.

“Get Emma on the line!”

“I’m sorry, Ruby, but Em--” There is a sound of scuffling and a ‘Give me that!’ before you hear Emma’s voice.

“Hello? Ruby? You ok?” No. Ok is not the word to describe you. You are so far from ok that you ran like a crazy person through a crowd of people who stared at you, dumbstruck. Well, except for those you ran into. Those people were very vocal about your running, shouting at you as you sprinted down the street.

“Troll bridge! Right now! I need to talk to you!” you say (or shout), taking eloquence to a new level. Instead of an ‘Of course! On my way!’ you hear a sigh.

“Ruby, I’m helping Regina with her homework.”

“Emma, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

“Helping Regina.”

“Please?”

“With her homework.”

“Emma!”

“At her house.”

“It’s important!”

“Alone.”

“Emma, please?!?”

“Ughhhhh. Fine, but if Regina gets mad at me it’s your fault!”

“Thank you so much!”

You hear a voice in the background say ‘Get mad at what?’ before Emma says “Yeah, whatever,” and hangs up.

You spend the rest of your run to the troll bridge focusing on your breathing, as pretending that Belle doesn’t exist is really not the right way to not think about her.

---------------

You can’t tell if it’s taking Emma longer than usual to get here, or if you’re just incredibly impatient. Either way, you end up alternating between sitting on the side of the bridge, jiggling your leg while hoping Emma gets here soon and pacing around muttering ‘comeoncomeoncomeon.’ Your anxiety level would make Dr. Hopper cry. You feel like crying. The only other time you’ve been this scared was two summers ago when you realized that you loved Mary Margaret.

Finally, she pulls up and opens the door, and you run up and fling your arms around her, holding on for dear life. “Emma, I don’t know what to do!” you sob into her shoulder.

She hugs you back and says gently “Ruby, you need to calm down a bit. Take a deep breath.” You do. “There. Now, what happened?”

The calming breath helps a bit, but you still hang back. “Well,” you say, “it’s kind of embarrassing...”

Emma pulls back and gives you a look, along with her characteristic smirk. “Well, you pulled me away from Regina, who is not happy about it, by the way. You’re telling me.”

You sigh, not meeting her eyes, and lean against the hood of the yellow bug. “Ok... Well, y’know how I told you about Mary Margaret?”

“Yeah?”

“Well...” you think about how to phrase it, “I may have sort of stopped thinking about her today...”

In your state of nerves, you're torn between wanting Emma to get the gist of what you're saying and hoping she doesn't.

She gets it.

“In favor of someone else?” she asks, voice soft.

You nod, a single tear, left over from before, slipping down your cheek, threatening to call reinforcements. You hesitate in telling Emma who. You want to tell her, of course, but that doesn't make isn't any easier to admit something that is still so raw and new.

“You wanna tell me who?” she asks. Emma is such a good friend. She's been patient with you thus far at these little spill sessions, and you're honestly not sure how you would be coping with yourself right now if she hadn't lent you her shoulder.

And still you hesitate, your last shreds of doubt getting in the way of her name. You look over the opposite railing of the bridge and can't keep the grin off your face when you finally say

“Belle.”

Emma gives a small smile that you see out of the corner of your eye. You glance her way and catch her eye, both of you bursting into giggles. You're giddy that you told someone. Truth be told, it feels like a weight has left your shoulders, though you've only just realized that you have a crush on Belle. It also sort of scares you to have told someone so soon.

“Hey, you know I’ll be right there for you, don’t you?” asks Emma, “Every step of the way.” She punches your shoulder and you wipe your nose on your sleeve.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling, “Thanks. Oh, and sorry for getting snot all over your shirt...”

Emma waves your apology off. “Don’t worry about it. I have an extra shirt in the car in case...” she trails off, face red.

“In case of what?” you prompt, a grin on your face. Emma’s face gets redder as she mumbles something about Regina. “WHOA whoa whoa that’s ok! I didn’t need to know.” Emma shoots you  a look but doesn’t elaborate.

You sit in silence for a minute before Emma turns to you again and asks “So, what are you going to do?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t even really know the girl. This could just be a tiny crush, not a full-blown Mary Margaret crush.”

“Well, judging by your reaction, I’d say it’s more than just a little crush. First, though, let’s address the other issue at hand: do you still love Mary Margaret?”

You shut your eyes tight at how complicated this all is. You can’t deny the rush of feelings you get when you think about her (giddyness, joy, adoration). There are 10 years of feelings for Mary Margaret in your heart; why should this new girl get in the way of that? Still, thinking of Belle brings the same rushes as Mary Margaret, stronger, even, than the rushes for Mary Margaret, but only time will tell if their strength is from the newness or... something else...

“Yes,” you finally answer, burying your face in your hands.

“Well then, you should tell her.”

“WHAT?!? NO!”

“No, no hear me out. If you tell Mary Margaret then you have the ability to move on if you want to. If you don’t tell her, you’ll be obsessing over it for the rest of your life. ‘Will she ever love me? Will I ever stop loving her?’ That sort of thing.” Emma looks at you. “That’s what I would do.”

You peek out from behind your hands, then drag them down your face as you groan and readjust your position so that you are more standing than leaning. You sigh. “But... my feelings for Belle... they’re not just a crush. I’m in love with Mary Margaret, there’s no doubt about that,” you secretly wonder how true that statement is, “but I also really like Belle.” You contort your features into a pained expression. “Emma, why does it have to be so complicated?”

“Hell if I know!” Emma thinks for a minute. “Well, in that case, wait for a bit. To do anything. See if your feelings for Mary Margaret fade at all and vice versa with Belle.”

You nod. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Good.” Emma claps her hands and stands up. “Well, do you have anything else you want to talk about?”

You shake your head. “Thanks, Emma!”

“No problem. Now, didn’t you say you had a shift today?”

Your eyes widen. “Shit! I completely forgot! Could you drop me off on your way into town?”

“Of course.” Emma opens her car door, “Get in!”

You walk around to the other side of the car and get in.

---------------

“Thanks again, Emma, for everything!” You open the car door and put your foot out.

“Hold on!” Emma starts rummaging around the backseat. She pulls back to show a composition notebook and a pen. “I stopped by my house to get them for you,” she says, handing them to you.

Puzzled, you say “Thanks Emma, but what are they for?”

“It’s a diary.” Oh great. She’s got the smirk on her face. “I should remind you that Regina’s still looking for dirt on you, since you know about us. I’ll try and throw her off your trail, though, tell her you got rejected by a guy or something, but if I’m with her, try writing down your feelings for the time being, ok?”

You nod. “Ok, sorry for pulling you away from Regina, and thanks again!” You get out of the car and turn around.

“No problem! Oh, and Ruby? Your make-up’s messed up! You’ve got big black streaks down your cheeks!”

“What?!? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it was funny!”

You pick up a ball of paper on the floor of her car and throw it at her. “You asshole!” you say. You’re laughing, though.

“Hey! Hey! Cut it out!” she says, cringing as the paper hit her. “Bye, Ruby!” Emma leans over, pulls the door shut and drives off.

“Bye!” you wave. Turning around, you catch a glimpse of the booths and their occupants through the windows. There, in the third booth, are Gold and Belle. Belle’s back is too you, but Gold is staring at you--no, glaring at you through the window. “Shit,” you mutter, running around to the back entrance. Maybe you can keep it low-key and they won’t notice you.

Unfortunately, Granny has other plans.

You sneak into the kitchen and almost make it to the back room when Granny comes in from the diner.

“RUBY!” You cringe, caught red-handed. “YOU’RE LATE!” Granny lowers her voice from sonic boom level and continues. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

You stay still, but answer her question. “I’m sorry, Granny, but I--”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

You sigh and turn around.

“Ruby, your mascara’s run all over your face.”

“Would you believe that I ran through a sprinkler on the way home?”

“Were you crying? What happened?”

Shit. You search for an answer and settle on Emma’s. Sighing and looking at the floor to be convincing, you say “I-I got rejected. By a boy.”

Granny’s face is full of concern, empathy, and just a little bit of protective rage when she says “Oh, honey, who? Do I need to pull out my crossbow?”

Your eyes widen. Granny nearly got arrested for missing the garbage man by an inch when he came an hour earlier than usual one time. She heard a noise outside, grabbed the weapon, and fired out the window before realizing that it was just the garbage man.

“NO! I mean, you don’t need to use the crossbow,” you say, looking up at her, “I’d honestly rather not talk about it. Can I just go clean up?” you plead, “I’ll be out in a minute. Also, can I work in the kitchen today?”

Granny nods. “Of course.”

“Thanks, Granny.” You turn to leave when you hear a familiar voice.

“Oh, hi, Ruby!” Shit... Belle has walked up to the order window and spotted you. “So, this is where you wo--are you okay?” And she’s spotted your makeup. Great.

“Um...” You can’t seem to come up with a coherent sentence, especially with the tears stinging the back of your throat.

“Leave her alone, now. Go on, shoo! shoo!” You close your eyes in embarrassment.

“No,” you say in a tired voice, “Granny, it’s fine.” You turn to Belle. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just, er, uh, tell you later?” You mean that. You will tell her what was bothering you someday, just not now. Or probably even soon.

Belle looks uncertain, like she’s just intruded on something she wasn’t supposed to be a part of. Well, she sort of did, but no matter. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...” she says.

“No, no,” you reassure her, “I’ll tell you, just... later...”

“Okay...” You look at each other for a minute, her trying to convey sympathy and understanding if you don’t tell her and you trying to convey how you aren’t trying to slight her in any way until you both realize how awkward the silence is.

“Well,” you say, breaking the mood and trying to ignore Granny’s scrutinizing gaze, “I’m going to wash up now.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” says Belle, slightly, and puzzlingly flustered, “Sorry for keeping you. You’re welcome to join us later if you like, that is, if you’re allowed.”

You nod. “Thanks, but Gold and I... we don’t really get along... But I’ll see you at school tomorrow!” You try and fail to sound cheerful and internally facepalm.

“Alright. See you tomorrow, Ruby!”

“Bye!” You turn and walk out of the kitchen to the backroom. Leaning against the closed door, head back, embarrassment washes over you as you let out a soft groan. She’s so cute... I don’t know how this happened... Damn it, I bet this wouldn’t have happened if Mary Margaret were there today. Or would it? Shit, what happens when they’re both there? You take out your phone and type out a quick message to Mary Margaret.

Sorry you’re sick! When are you coming back?

Thirty seconds later you get a reply.

Tomorrow. It’s just a bad cold.

Pairings: Mostly Red Beauty, but Red Snow, Swan Queen, Sleeping Warrior, Rumbelle, and Snowing elements as well. There's probably some I'm forgetting, but it's an AU, you get the gist.

Rating: T (for cursing)

Summary: High School AU. Ruby Lucas lives in a non-cursed, normal small town Storybrooke, Maine, where excitement includes hearing about the antics of Rupert Gold, being in love with her best friend, and coming up with new reasons for why she's late to the diner for work. That's all about to change when Belle French moves to town...

Author's Notes: So, I posted this a long time ago, but since I'm putting it all on tumblr now, I've decided to just repost this chapter too.

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Freshmen: Ashley Boyd, Sean Herman, Sidney Glass,

Sophomores: Ruby Lucas, Belle French, Regina Mills, Emma Swan, Mary Margaret Blanchard, David Nolan, Kathryn Noble (Kathryn Nolan), Jim Smith (Frederick), Graham Humbert

Juniors: Dawn Dormir (Aurora), Maggie Lin (Mulan), Phillip Smith (moved away) Killian Jones

Seniors: Rupert Gold, Jefferson Summers, Vic Whale

Fifth Graders: Henry Mills, Paige Summers, Ava and Nicholas Zimmer

Chapter 1

A faint smell wafts across the breeze. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with it. You’ve always had better senses than anyone else (well, besides Granny) and today you are grateful for them. As you breathe out, you open your eyes and turn in the direction of the breeze. Your eyes settle on her and you smile. Mary Margaret.

You and Mary Margaret have been best friends since kindergarten, when Regina teased you about the red hood Granny used to make you wear and she stood up for you. About a year ago, you realized that, while you both loved each other, your love had transformed into something else, something definitely less... sisterly. You’re still learning to cope with it, but you do have a secret picture of David Nolan that you tack to the dartboard in your basement when you get angry enough. As she draws closer, you push away thoughts of David. It’s one of the things you do best.

You greet each other and walk to school, you totally ignoring how the October wind ruffles her hair, or how her face lights up when you pass Dr. Hopper walking his dog, Pongo. Or how Mary Margaret loves animals. In fact, you’ve learned to cope so well that you don’t even notice how adorable her laugh is on the autumn breeze. Not even then.

Of course, this magical spell of denial ends the moment you walk into first period and she finds her seat by David. David and Mary Margaret’s relationship is one of the reasons you don’t usually drink at parties: you don’t want to end up hurting David. You’re more than a little protective when it comes to your friends, and when it comes to someone you love, well... Let’s just say it would suck to be David.

You sit down next to Emma Swan. Emma is a foster kid who’s lived with Mary Margaret and her dad for three years. You’re not sure if they’re going to adopt her or not, but Emma and Mary Margaret act like sisters, so you wouldn’t be surprised. If Mary Margaret is your best friend, then Emma is your next best friend. Still, you haven’t told her about your feelings. You actually haven’t told anyone. It’s eaten you up for a year now, and you still haven’t got the guts to say “Mary Margaret, I’m in love with you,” or tell someone else. It’s eating you up inside today especially because it’s Mary Margaret and David’s one-year anniversary. So, in what may very well be a fit of madness, you open your notebook and scribble a note to Emma:

You: Can I talk to you after class?

Emma looks at you, puzzled, before scribbling a reply:

Emma: Sure. Anything wrong?

You: No, it’s just that I need to ask some advice on something and I can’t ask Mary Margaret.

Emma: Shoot.

You: After class? I’d rather not have to write it down.

Emma: That’s worrying...

You: It’s nothing to worry about, honest.

Emma is just scribbling a reply when a shadow falls over your books.

“Ruby, do you have something to share with the class?” asks your teacher.

God, no, you think. You shake your head. You’re pretty sure you’ve never been this red.

“Emma? What about you?”

Emma looks up, calm and cool. “I can’t say that I do, sir.”

“Then kindly do not pass notes in class, especially when I’m asking you a question!” You break your record as the blush creeps up to your ears. “Now, Ms. Lucas, could you please tell me what happened during the Seven Years War?”

---------------

When the bell rings, Mary Margaret leaves with David, leaving you and Emma to walk alone. Most days, this irritates you slightly, and you try and walk with them, but today you are perfectly fine with her walking ahead. In fact, you prefer it.

“So, what’s this thing you need to ask me about that you can’t write down or talk to Mary Margaret about?”

Trust Emma to get straight to the point.

You gulp and brace yourself. “Well, I can’t tell Mary Margaret because it’s about her, and I can’t have it written down because I’m paranoid.”

You reach Emma’s locker. “Paranoid about what?” she asks, looking concernedly at you. You look into her eyes, hoping to convey utmost seriousness. You’re worried about her reaction, but take a deep breath and say quietly “I’m in love with Mary Margaret.”

Emma gets a smug look on her face. “Henry owes me ten dollars.”

“WHAT?!?” you shriek, drawing more than a few eyes to you. You blush and lower your voice. “You knew?”

“Well,” Emma says smugly, closing her locker, “I picked up on a few things at Graham’s party at the beginning of the year,” and that’s why you don’t drink at parties anymore, “and after that it was easy to notice the looks you gave her. You’re not as subtle as you think, Ruby.”

“Really?” you ask, “Am I that obvious?” If Emma has picked up on your feelings for Mary Margaret, then who else had? Besides Henry, of course. Henry Mills is Emma’s friend who’s in fifth grade. The two are inseparable. He’s Regina Mills’ cousin, and whenever Emma and Regina get into fights (every other week) Regina tells Emma to stay away from Henry, which Emma ignores. It’s quite funny, actually.

“No, you’re not that obvious. You’ve got the stealth glance down, it’s just that there are too many stealth glances being shot in her direction for a good friend not to notice. That, and anyone who saw you trying to cuddle with her at Graham’s party could easily pick up on the signs, unless they were as thick as that Gold kid is sharp.”

You breath a sigh of relief as you walk into English, but the question of what you should do is cut short by August Booth walking up to you. “Hey, Emma,” he says, and then, as an afterthought, “Ruby.” He turns back to Emma. “How are you?” You’re not surprised he hasn’t noticed you, as he’s been asking Emma out since day one of Freshman year.

“Speaking of thick people,” Emma says to you under her breath, before putting on a tight-lipped smile for August. “Hey, August, I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Listen, my dad’s out of town this weekend on a trip, and I was planning a party. Want to come?” Again, as an afterthought, he turns to you. “You can come too, if you’d like.”

“I’ll see,” says Emma, “Who else did you invite?”

“Oh, just about everyone in Sophomore year, plus some Juniors and a few seniors. No freshmen.” August looks very pleased with himself.

“I’ll think about it,” Emma repeats, before sliding past him. She turns to you before sitting in her assigned seat. “We’ll talk after class, okay?”

You nod. To August, you say “I’ll think about it, though Granny’s friends with your dad, so I may have to tell her I’m at Mary Margaret’s.”

August shrugs. “Well, hope you can make it,” he says before finding his seat.

English is the one class where you can’t sit near your friends. Since the seating chart is in alphabetical order, you have a weird kid who smells in front of you and Regina Mills in back. Mary Margaret is in the front of class, too far to talk, and Emma is in the back, leaving you smack dab in the middle of the room. You hate your seat. Technically you could talk to Kathryn Noble, but you don’t know her all that well and she’s too busy making eyes at Jim Smith who sits next to her to take notice of anyone. Talking to Regina is out of the question. She only gives you the “bitch please” face and smirk as the you fall back into your seat.

Today, however, you are perfectly content to lose yourself in syntax and diction without someone to giggle with. The grammar keeps your mind off of the elephant in the room and without Mary Margaret or Emma nearby, you don’t have to worry about anything accidentally being let slip.

Alas, even dangling participles can’t keep the bell from ringing, and zipping up your backpack, you follow Mary Margaret and Emma to Algebra.

---------------

Due to a series of only sort of unfortunate events involving Regina’s head, an excellent perch in a tree, and some spitballs, you don’t get to talk to Emma at lunch or the rest of the day. Since it’s Tuesday, the day Mary Margaret volunteers at the elementary school, you walk home by yourself. You’re debating texting Emma about meeting you somewhere to continue your chat when something hits the back of your head hard.

“OW!” you yell, spinning around. You find yourself facing a bouncing basketball. “Who threw that?!?”

“Dawn! Be more careful!” yells a girl in the driveway across the street. You look over as you see a junior run across the street to get the ball. Oh, it was an accident, you think as Dawn Dormir catches the ball mid-bounce. Everyone knows that Dawn isn’t the best at sports, but keeps trying, much to the displeasure of anybody nearby. It’s not the first time someone has gotten hit with runaway sports equipment, or will be, you suspect, the last.

“Sorry, Ruby!” says Dawn, an apologetic smile on her face, “I couldn’t catch the ball,” she turns to her friend, “because someone threw it too hard!”

“Sorry, Ruby!” says Maggie Lin, also a junior and Dawn’s best friend. Everyone is pretty sure that the only reason Dawn keeps trying to get into sports is Maggie, just like they know that Maggie couldn’t care less if Dawn could shoot a basket. “And I did not throw it too hard! It went right to you!” Their words are angry, but the two girls are smiling.

“It’s alright,” you say, “Don’t worry about it.”

Maggie looks at you, her smile replaced by concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, perfectly fine. See you around!” You like Dawn and Maggie, but being around them can get a little awkward after a while.

As you walk away, you can hear the two of them play-fighting.

“Right to me my ass! That went over my head!”

“You could have jumped!”

“It was five feet over my head!”

You roll your eyes and keep walking. You aren’t sure how subtle you are, but if Emma was right and only if you thought about it could you tell your feelings, then you can easily say that Maggie and Dawn are obvious as hell.

Speaking of Emma, you take out your phone and text her to meet you at the Toll Bridge. Mary Margaret and David are both busy this afternoon, so there would be no interruptions from them (it’s their special spot). A few minutes later, you get a text saying that she’ll be there after detention. You decide to get a head start. You may be a fast walker, but Emma has a car.

---------------

You’ve been waiting all of ten minutes before the yellow bug pulls up to the bridge. Leo, Mary Margaret’s dad, had gotten both Emma and Mary Margaret cars for their birthdays, and though you know that Emma is grateful, she’s still wary of strong ties like that in a foster home, even if she’s been there for three years. You take out your earphones and gave a nervous wave, Florence and the Machine abruptly cut off. You may have been able to talk to Emma earlier, but you still aren’t used to talking about your feelings for Mary Margaret.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey,” says Emma. An awkward silence fills the air for about thirty seconds, Emma looking at you, you looking at the bridge before Emma prompts “So, you wanted to talk about Mary Margaret?”

You nod, looking up. “Yeah, it’s just hard to talk about, y’know?”

“Well, you could start at the beginning.”

“Ok.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “Well, as you know, Mary Margaret and I have lived in Storybrooke our whole lives. We met in kindergarten and became best friends after she stood up to Regina for me. She was teasing me about this red hood Granny used to make me wear. So, during the summer before freshman year, you, Mary Margaret, and Leo went on a camping trip for a week. I couldn’t see Mary Margaret for that whole time, and we sort of get inseparable during the summers, so it was weird for her to not be there. About four days in, I realized that I was nervous about seeing her again. At first I waved it off as a sort of human-withdrawal symptom, but the next day, when it wasn’t two A.M. and I was thinking clearer, I realized that I was being stupid and I was nervous for another reason, I just didn’t know what that reason was. I wracked my brains for a couple of days but still hadn’t found my answer by the time you all got back, so (and you probably remember this, Emma) when you got back I made some cookies and brought them over. I remember walking to your house and noticing that I got more anxious and got more butterflies in my stomach the closer I got. At that point I just passed it off as excitement at seeing two good friends after a week. But once I walked in the door and saw Mary Margaret, the butterflies increased and my heart was pounding. She smiled at me and I felt like melting. Then she hugged me and wherever we were touching, I just felt like I was on fire, but in a good way, and as soon as I realized this, I tensed up. Mary Margaret noticed and she asked me what was wrong. I told her I didn’t feel very good and I guess I didn’t look too good either, because she sent me home soon afterward to rest. Pretty soon afterwards, I realized that I had a huge crush on her. You’ve got to remember, Mary Margaret and I tell each other everything, so it was weird keeping a secret from her, still is. I planned on telling her after we started freshman year. ‘Before Christmas,’ I told myself, but then she met David and I just kept pushing back when I was going to tell her and now it’s been a year and she still doesn’t know. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve told, Emma.” You look over at the blonde, who looks sad.

“Really?” she asks. You nod, tears, some from relief, some from hopelessness, filling your eyes. Emma opens her arms, and you crawl into her embrace, crying into Emma’s shoulder. You stay like that for a good five minutes before drying your eyes and sitting up, shaking yourself out of Emma’s arms. “Thanks,” you say, “I’ve just been stressing over it for a year now and I guess it was too long.”

“No problem,” says Emma, “I know what it’s like. Well, to some extent.”

You’re confused. “Wait, do you mean you know what it’s like in that you’ve liked someone you couldn’t be with or... y’know...”

“Well, yes, and yes, but the first one only because they’re stubborn and she second one only to some extent. I’m bi.”

“YOU?”

“Yeah!”

“How could I not have known that? I mean, I see you every day! I’ve had sleepovers at your house!”

“Answers are given to those who ask, Ruby, and you didn’t ask.” She’s grinning. Calmly grinning. You don’t know how she does it, or how she’s pulled this off. You’re an observant person.

“But-- Then who’s the first answer?”

“I’m not actually allowed to tell you that, seeing as ‘her majesty’ would rather not make it known that she’s a lesbian.”

“‘Her majesty’? Alright, nevermind. Wow. Well, at least I know that I’m not stuck on some metaphorical island alone with Dawn and Maggie.”

“Yeah, that would be awkward.”

“Super awkward.” The two of you giggle a little while imagining Maggie and Dawn alone on an island, before you turn back to Emma, a pained expression on your face. “While it’s good to know I’m not alone, what should I do about Mary Margaret?”

Emma thinks for a minute, then says “Well, I think that you should tell her how you feel. Just tell her what you told me. I’m not saying it will help you get the girl, but I think that her knowing and accepting you would be better than you being miserable all the time.”

“But what if she doesn’t accept me?”

“Ruby, you know Mary Margaret better than anyone, including me and David. If you mean you being gay, think back through all of your conversations and ask yourself if she has ever given you the impression that she was a homophobe.”

“She’s not, that much I know. But was was wondering if it would change our friendship if she knew my true feelings.”

“Well, that one’s tough. You two’ll just have to figure that out on your own. It will definitely change your friendship, but it may be for the better. The truth is important to Mary Margaret, and she’ll like it that you’ve decided to be honest with her. I think it all comes down to how strong your friendship is. If you two are really as close as you think, then this probably won’t do as much damage as you think it will.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Just think of the Mary Margaret you know and ask yourself if she would ever stop being friends with you because you loved her.”

You think for a moment, then nod. “Thank you, Emma,” you say, laying your hand on her arm, “This makes me feel a lot better.”

“Happy to help!”

“Hey, if you ever need to talk about ‘her majesty’, then let me know. I won’t ask for names!” The two of you laugh. “However,” you say, “I will figure out who this is.”

“I would tell you right now if she would let me, but I’m afraid she’d ignore me for a week if I did, and not just out of trying to keep the secret,” says Emma. You chuckle, thinking through all the girls in your class.

“It’s not Kathryn Noble, is it?” you ask.

“I’m not going to play the ‘guess all the girls in the school until we get it right’ game, but I will tell you that it is NOT Kathryn Noble.” Emma’s face scrunches up in a grimace. Kathryn is a nice enough girl, but it’s pretty easy to see how different she and Emma are. “On a different note, do you want a ride back into town?” she asks you.