Kathrine Andrews

-Kathrine Andrews: (Song of the chapter: Euphoria Antisocialken)

I love my life.

Well, maybe not right now.

I have the best parents and siblings in the universe—a family that loves me unconditionally and stood by me when I came out as a lesbian at the ripe age of eleven.

They didn't flinch, didn't question me. Just pure love and acceptance.

We're an upper-middle-class family.

We have a car, a roof over our heads, clothes to wear, and dinner on the table every night. By most standards, I have it all.

But…

Even with all of this, I'm still treated like dirt at school, like I'm worth less than the gum on their overpriced designer shoes.

I'm a senior at Baylor School in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

It's supposed to be one of the best schools around, but to me, it's just a breeding ground for spoiled, rich kids who think the world revolves around them.

I stand in my room, staring at the setup that reflects who I am.

A white bed pushed against one wall, a soft rug beneath it.

A vanity table by the window with a round mirror surrounded by beauty essentials—makeup brushes, perfume bottles, and a little vase of fresh flowers.

Fairy lights hang above the bed, casting a warm glow.

I glance down at my school uniform, adjusting the skirt that's way too short for my liking.

It grazes the top of my thighs, a ridiculous length for someone who's 6'2".

The school seems to think all girls are 5'1", and when I complained, they shrugged it off.

"Can I just wear pants?" I suggested to our principle.

The principal said no. Apparently, they want every student to look exactly the same in uniform.

So here I am, stuck in this short skirt, now paired with thick stockings to maintain at least a shred of dignity.

It has worked for the past three years.

I lace up my white sneakers, straighten the necktie around the collar of my white blouse, and adjust the purple blazer to match the skirt.

Then, I glance at my reflection in the long mirror.

My dark hair, always styled into a tight braid, frames my face. It's the only way to avoid damage since the bully started.

"Kat, I changed your oil and filled your gas, baby," my dad calls out from the doorway.

I look up to find Damon Andrews—workaholic professor, best dad in the world—standing there, holding his coffee cup.

He's dressed in a sharp suit, his glasses perched on his nose, and there's that familiar soft grin on his face.

I know what he's seeing: not an almost-adult senior, but his little girl, the one who used to play with Barbies in this very room.

"Thanks, Dad. You're the best," I say with a grin, walking over to give him his morning hug.

Skipping this would only lead to him sulking and tattling to Mom.

He hugs me tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before leading me to the dining room.

Inside, my twin brother Malakai is locked in a battle with our older brother over a piece of toast—like there isn't a full, untouched new bag of toast on the counter.

"Here comes the best hockey player in the world!" Nancy King, Malakai's girlfriend, greets me with a wide smile as I walk in.

Nancy's stunning, both inside and out.

Her rich deep brown skin practically glows under the morning light, and her curly hair frames her face beautifully.

She's dressed in the same uniform as me, but it fits her perfectly.

"Nancy, you're so good for my ego," I say, leaning down to hug her.

She always hypes me up, and I appreciate it more than she knows.

My dream of playing professional hockey in the PWHL feels closer every time she reminds me how capable I am.

For now, I'm just a high school senior, playing on Baylor's hockey team, but someday… someday I'll make it.

I walk over to my brothers, snatch the toast they're fighting over, and pop it into my mouth with a smirk.

They glare at me but don't dare retaliate—not with Dad in the room. He'd put them in their place, even if they're twice his size now.

Mom and Nancy burst into laughter at their defeat.

"And problem solved," Mom says, smiling as she wipes away a tear from laughing too hard.

I kiss her cheek as I pass.

She smiles back but frowns as she brushes her fingers over my braid. "Why do you always braid your hair like this? Your hair is so beautiful, baby. Let it down."

I wish I could, Mom. I really do.

"It's more practical when I play," I lie with a shrug.

She seems satisfied and hands me a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. I sip it, leaning against the counter as I watch my family.

They're beautiful, loud, and loving—a family that supports me in everything I do.

My life is perfect.

At least it was.

Until everyone at school found out I'm a lesbian. Baylor School: the breeding ground of rich, homophobic brats.