Isabela Part 2

"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter quietly, staring at the transparent, sticky layer on my underwear. "What the hell is this?"
I sit on the toilet and decide to grab my phone to Google:
"What is a clear slime in my underwear?"
I see a series of results talking about ovulation, arousal, and how clear discharge is common. From what I’ve studied, women don’t ovulate near their period, and I’m definitely close to mine. So, I’m left with the conclusion that this happened because I got... turned on. I got turned on from a damn compliment.
Is this why I see women joking in shows about getting wet? This is what "wet" means! So, I got turned on because of Nate. How frustrating! I’m terrible! What would my mom say if she knew about this? Would it just confirm all the horrible things she thinks about me?
When I come out of the bathroom, mortified, I’m greeted by Nate’s intimidating presence. He’s holding out a bag of chips, looking at me with suspicion. I take a deep breath, shoulders slumped. Would he think I’m a slut if he knew what happened to my body because of his compliment?
I’m angry with myself. I don’t know if this happens to all girls my age or if I’m just early. I think I need to talk to my grandma. She’s very kind and always curious to know if I’m interested in anyone. Even if I can’t ask her for help with the terrible things that happen at home, I can still talk to her about Nate.
Oh my God! I just met him; he’s a graffiti artist, he threatened me, made a rude gesture, but also gave me a new pack of candy and a bottle way prettier than my old one.
I accept his damn chips, swallowing them without chewing properly. I sit down on the ground, leaning my back against a white pillar in the covered patio, nervous as he sits down next to me. Nate is huge and looks awkward in this position.
"I ate all your chips," I admit, my mouth full. "Can I pay you back with candy? I’ve got tons in my backpack."
"I’m good, Little Sun," he says, pressing his lips together and nodding.
I can see the students whispering about us, their faces ranging from curious to judgmental.
I wonder if they think it’s absurd that the hot guy in school is sitting next to the 'weird girl.' I sigh, suddenly feeling tired.
"I’m terrible at English, but I think you just called me ‘Little Sun,’" I say out loud, finally realizing what slipped from his lips. It’s a nickname… and it’s super cute.
"You really do look like a little piece of the sun. Your hair is golden and beautiful."
"Why are you being so nice?" I ask, swallowing hard.
I don’t sense any sarcasm in his tone, but I’m not used to compliments or sweet gestures. It feels so unusual and weird for him to compliment me like he actually finds me attractive. Or for him to talk about my hair as if it’s something other than horrible and dry, like Diana always says it is. Maybe he’s trying to buy my silence about his graffiti with these sweet words or the things he gave me.
Maybe my mom would call me a slut if she knew I got a gift from a boy. Maybe my stepdad would unleash his jealousy on me, hitting me for the same reason.
"Hey, Grandma! Can you tell my mom that you sent your driver to give me this water bottle? I got it from a boy at school."
I type the message to Hellen, along with a picture of the bottle. She replies with a few thumbs-up emojis seconds later, followed by, "Come see Grandma, I miss you."
"I wasn’t nice to you yesterday, Isabela. I invaded the girls’ bathroom, and I know you were in your space. And I think you’re beautiful. I want to make up for it," he says, and the way his eyes linger on my lips as he speaks makes my heart skip a beat.
I look down at my hands, dirty from the chips, but I can’t help the small smile. When I lift my eyes again, I notice how his huge brown eyes remain locked on me. My throat feels oddly dry, like no amount of water would be enough to quench it. Why is my skin prickling and why do I feel cold? I’ve never felt this way around anyone.
When the bell rings, signaling the end of our break, I glance away, noticing Bianca approaching us, arms crossed like a wall. She’s pouting, making it clear she doesn’t like me at all.
Her black, straight hair floats around her face in a Long Bob cut. I can’t stop staring at the hoop piercing on the side of her round, chubby nose. She’s really pretty.
"Why are you near *her*?" she asks, pursing her upper lip and glaring at me. "We don’t hang out with weird people. Since when did that change?"
Nate doesn’t respond, and the way he stands up and follows his sister, abruptly turning his back on me, makes something strange happen in my chest. My throat tightens from the gesture, and my eyes begin to burn. I guess he realized that I’m really just that: a weird girl. And it’s not cool to be around me.
I spend the rest of the class with a lump in my throat, and not even the new water bottle full of water helps with the feeling. My eyes tear up now and then, but I do my best to focus on the subjects because failing isn’t an option.
Nate sent mixed signals, was kind, and then left with his sister’s offensive comment, making it clear that Bianca’s sharp opinion mattered to him. I only allow the tears to fall now that I’m under the shower in the girls’ locker room, where they mix with the water, and my sobs are drowned out by it.
It’s awful feeling defective, broken to the point where everyone can see I’m some sort of freak. I can’t make friends, I can’t form connections. I’m some kind of ruined soul that repels people.
Finally, a boy showed interest in me, even if he’s a vandal. He was kind, looked at me like I was beautiful, even gave me some nicknames. I don’t know why I got my hopes up so much. I just met him… In the end, I know I’m worthless."