I usually rode the bus home. It was better than being crammed in the back seat against the bodies of overly large juniors and seniors. As Alan would always have his girlfriend of the week riding shotgun so he would clown car everyone into the back. One time he made a threat to make me ride in the trunk and I’m fairly sure he meant it. It was safer and calmer to take the bus. There were about sixty or so other students acting like a mobile mosh pit at the Lollapalooza but it was tranquil in comparison to my brother’s driving.

The ride would allow me to sit back and sometimes sleep during the twenty-five-minute ride home. There were days I would read, and other times I would work on my own little comic book. All I could draw were stick figures and something that kind of resembles a cat. I preferred to working on the storyline, creating the scene in my head, and writing out how the drawing would look in the hands of someone who had talent. Unfortunately, my mind would envision a scene from SHS with Cherry once again stopping a Godzilla-like dragon from demolishing Osaka by singing him back to sleep for—hopefully four hundred more years. I’d only have to make a change or two and I could pass it off as my own. Perhaps I could have it drawn in 3-D?

Our home was a split-level with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, one garage, and absolutely no space to put anything. We weren’t hoarders but we collected too many things: Dad amassed cases and cases of books. Mom had an infatuation with artwork made from polished rock and heather gems. My younger sister, Kat, had so many Barbies that someone at Mattel had to have been able to afford a yacht by now. Al’s room, which was on the lower sub-floor was stacked with weights and a huge sound system for a guitar. He only knew three chords. My room was like a miniature version of the comic shop I always went to with posters all over my walls and other collectibles lining the top of my dresser. If someone outside of our family ever came into my room, I would have to explain the meaning of a gigantic poster of the character for HSS that WAS once on my wall.

“Allan!” I shrieked as I threw my hands out, trying to remember the way it once hung on the wall. It was now on the floor, with the glass shattered all over the wood floor with pieces lying on the rug. He could try to say it was an accident but the fact that he was in my room earlier on the day, probably while I was on the bus, and that everyone else was gone except for him then it had to have been him. I stormed my way to his room and tried to open it but, it was locked, and Allan wasn’t at home yet. I fumed, I ranted, and I felt like crying. Yes, it was a piece of paper. It was a limited-edition piece of paper encased in a custom frame I begged for almost two years.

I wanted to take revenge, to be the yandere of the house, and to do something to get back at him but I had learned that never worked out. If we were liken to the Brady Bunch, then I was the Jan of the family. It was indeed time to reveal to Mom what had happened in the SUV.

The front door opened. Allan stepped in and tossed his backpack across the the room like we had a corn hole target in the living room.

“You were in my room!”
“Yeah, I was.”
“You broke my poster!” I walked into the front room and stood across the hall from Alan, samurai duel style.
“Are you accusing me of breaking a glorified watercolor drawing that looks like a kindergartener drew it?”
“Yeah!”
“It fell,” Allen said with a shrug. “That annoying gravity thing. We ought to repeal that law.”
Ever had that feeling at running at full tilt, launching yourself into the air and performing a “Hurricane” or “Cyclone Spin Kick” on someone, anyone, or your own brother? Comparing us would be like Andre the Giant vs Kevin Hart. I could out-think my way through an argument but, there was no way I could take Alan in a fight. I tried once and lost my two front upper teeth…fortunately they were just my baby teeth.
Alan stood in front of me with a slight smirk followed by the expression that screamed “come at me, bro”.
“Why?”
“Because you have all this girly stuff. Do you have a stack of panties in the drawer?”
“No, but you have some under your bed. Let me guess, Michelle’s been over?”
“I think her name was…Cala.”
“I highly doubt that.’
“Think what you want.”
“What do they see in you?”
“What they can never see in you.”
I wanted to think that there was someone out there for me. They just didn’t go to my school or maybe they lived off the coast of Tasmania, on the outskirts of Reykjavik, or could be leaning on the wall next to a convenience store in the heart of Akihabara. I did say “they” because as much as I would never admit to Alan—or anyone else for that matter—that I really didn’t care about what sex someone was or however we were supposed to view it. I mean, some planets out there had multi-genders, but we didn’t care about that as much as we wondered if Picard and crew were going to get out of the love triangle mess Riker would get himself into.
Cala was close to the “manic techno holodeck girl” one could come across at the time and I almost revealed my switch-hitter status on life, until that fateful day. Maybe she wouldn’t have ratted me out. Maybe she’d understand my inability to talk about things like that when the other guys talked about their proposed Hollywood dates at the semi-privacy of our backwoods table, but I couldn’t risk it. Alan didn’t have to be a jerk about it but, he was, of course.
“Cala would be able to see straight through that incredibly small brain you have.”
“She wasn’t looking at my brain,” Alan replied with a chuckle.
“Then at your big mouth, that never seems to want to shut up.”
“No, we were in my car, and she was staring so wide at my…Hey, Mom!”
The door opened and Mom walked in with Kat in tow.
“Alan, Gehn, I have groceries in the car. Get them, please.”
“Sure mom. “Glad to help,” Alan replied with an Eddie Haskel-channeling smile.

We walked outside the house, to the SUV in the driveway.
“Hey, Gehn, the guys keep asking me a question.”
Alan opened the rear door.
“About how a neanderthal man like yourself can stand up straight?”
He picked up a heavy bag and shoved it into my chest.
“There’s a rumor going around that you’re gay.”
He then picked up two other bags and, somehow, was able to close the door without dropping or crushing anything.
“Wow, I wonder who thought that one up,” I replied. “I also just have to know what your told them.”
“I agreed with them.”
“Of course you did,” I replied.
“So, the poster on your wall is a fairy picture?”
“I’m failing to understand why you want to propagate such disdain for others who think differently than you.”
“You’re not denying it.”
“The poster WAS of a super-powered heroine who comes to the aid of people under attack.”
“I mean about the gay part.”
“And you’re not denying a fact you don’t give a flip out any girl you’ve dated,”
“I think about them all the time.”
“Until five minutes after you drop them off at their homes.”
“They love it,” he replied as we walked into the house.
“No, they don’t,” I stated as Alan closed the door. He looked at me with the “shut-it” stare.
“They don’t what?” Mom asked.
“Girls don’t like being used by Alan in the back of your car.”
“Used?” Mom asked and her eyes sparked. “Oh my God! Is that what that mass of spots on the back seat are?”
“What spots, Mommie?” Kat asked.
“Gehn’s gay,” Alan yelled
“Gehn’s happy?”
Mom looked at the two of us and then at Kat.
“The two of you better go to your rooms right now before I…” Kill us? Call the police? “Tell your father when he gets home.”
“You are so dead, twink!” Alan yelled. “You’re going to wish to God that you had some fairy magic to bail your ass out of this!”
“Alan!” Mom yelled.
“Bail your ass!” Kat repeated.

When evil rises from the weak minds of the world.
Look into your heart and let your love unfurl.
Take up the mantle, take up the fight
Champion against the wrong, battle to defend what is right.
Summon the love, for all the world to see
The HIGH SCHOOL SENTAI, Cherry Jubilee!

Dinner was a bit…awkward.

The five of us sat around the table with Mom carrying on light conversation with Dad. Allan and I ignored each other, and Kat ate calmly without saying anything until Dad muttered something about a co-worker who as a slow as an ass at work. The four of us then turned in what was almost slow motion as Kat explained what had happened earlier and ended with “What does wonder fag mean?”

One would want to think that my parents would get onto Alan for saying something like that and to tell Kat it was rude to repeat that…. but…we all know how it all went:

It was my fault.

How could I think like that?

How long has it been like this?

Can you just switch back?

Not once did he ask exactly what caused all of this in the first place. Alan ‘volunteered’ to speak for me, telling dad whoppers that would cause Pinocchio’s nose to stretch into infinity. My face turned different shades of red, my mouth contorted to try and answer to the charges put upon me, and my voice failed to speak up due to the shock of it all.

“He has a dress hanging in his closet,” Alan concluded, as if that were the worst thing he could have said

“It’s not a dress, it’s a collector’s item.”

“From what?” Dad asked, his expression looking like a defeated man.

“A manga.”

A what?”

“A comic book dad, some girly comic book.” Alan piped up.

The three of us—Mom had long taken Kat out for ice cream, in hopes that Kat would never repeat the new vocabulary words she had picked up—sat around the now cleared-off dining room table.

“I thought you were interested in that Cala girl?” Dad asked me, his demeanor hinted that he wanted the evening wiped form his memory.

“I am, I mean I was.”

“She called him a freak,” Alan chimed in.

“Ghen, rejection from one girl is not the end of the world. It doesn’t mean you need to pitch for the other team.”

“I’m okay with it, Dad.”

“Okay with her rejection or with…”

“Both,” I replied, “I’m fine with both.”

Dad and Alan exchanged looks, prompting dad to shake his hands in slight frustration. “So it’s not a dress, just a Halloween costume?”

“Dad, that’s not the problem. I’m not going to be embarrassed by Gehn being a fag!”

“Gehn, I’ll talk with your mother and we’ll get an appointment with a doctor who can help you through this.”

“Help me get through what? Alan being a jerk?”

“I knew we should have signed you signed up for football.”

I got up from the table, walked down the hall to my room, and slammed the door closed.

The room was still trashed from my brother’s earlier chaos.

“Why isn’t he in trouble?” I asked myself while picking up the glass fragments from the poster that used to be on the wall. I honestly wanted to pick up a shard of glass and run it across everything my brother owned that could be pierced by the jagged points. Not once did I think of plunging a shard into my wrists or face. I was not the problem. My life was not something others could control or foot ball
I had so much rage towards Alan but I didn’t want to go to war with my brother…he would win in physical fight, and I would topple him in a battle of wits, and I refused to do battle with an unarmed person. Alan would tell everyone some form of lie that no matter how many times I would try to deny it, it would just cause it to spread around the school. He would not be able to stop himself; it was in his nature to keep me under his heel in the hierarchy of high school.

The word would get around the school before I stepped past the threshold. I had to think someone would come to my defense. There had to be others like me, but would they step out before superficial stormtroopers and unite to put down the witch hunt?

I carefully folded the poster up and placed it in my nightstand drawer. I looked to the closet and opened it, fearing that Alan had indeed gotten in there and ransacked everything I owned in there. I admit, I did indeed have a dress hidden in the back behind a suit I wore only once at my grandfather’s funeral. The closet was untouched. Nothing thrown about or ripped apart. I reached for the dress, a handcrafted third-party creation based on Cherry Jubilee, even down to the bow and ribbons. Alan knew about it as he was in the living room when it arrived and he commented on how hot his “flavor of the week”—I think her name was Danielle—would look in it. That comment made me quickly run it back to my room and it was never spoken of again.

At least until that night.

“Fine,” I whispered to myself as I lifted the hanger with the words “チェリージュビリー” engraved into the wood. “Time to shine.”

Otome no Policy

Though the challenge is like gazing, through the eye of the needle
I must defend the weak and punish the evil.
Fight for the right and let your mercy free
The HIGH SCHOOL SENTAI, Cherry Jubilee!

I walked into the lunchroom and made my way to the table to meet up with the guys.

Mike was the first to look up; he nudged Simon and pointe for Lucas to turn around. I had their attention.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked as I took the open seat next to Lucas.

The three looked at me as I placed the bento box on the table.

“Sure, but—” Mike started as he looked around the room.

“Well, I guess he’s not here,” Simon looked around as well.

“A friend of yours?” I asked. “I can find another seat.”

“No!” They answered in unison.

“It’s fine. “I’m Mike, this is Simon and Lucas. Gehn’s usually here, but…are you new?”

I nodded as I unclasped the band holding the box together. “New school, new challenges, and new friends, eh?”

Simon glanced at Mike, trying hard to not ask the question that was on all their minds: “Who is this girl and why would she sit with us?”

“Sakura Saotome.”

“Good to meet you. How do you like your classes?”

“Pretty good,” I replied.

“Have you been able to fool everyone so far?” Lucas asked.

“Yes, even Mr. Phillips.”

“I never would have thought you’d do this,” Mike said as he looked around.

“My family made me want to do it. Dad and Alan gave me a challenge, so challenge accepted,” I replied as I brushed my hair back.

“I’m impressed,” Simon replied as he took a bite of a slice of pizza.

“I’m comfortable in this…kind of feels right.”

The three of them changed their expressions. Mike looked to the table. Simon stared at the lone slice of pepperoni that made up school lunchroom pizza. Lucas closed his eyes and tapped his fingers on the table.

“Oh, come on, you guys too?”

“It’s not that, um-Sakura,” Mike started as he looked me in the eyes. “It’s that you’re a huge target if anyone finds out.”

“You’re giving a lot of the student too much credit, Mike.”

“How so, Si?”

“Think about it...as she said, no one’s said anything and in a school of about 1200”

“1182,” Lucas added and then took a swig from a coke bottle.

“Close enough. She’ll blend into the ether that is high school life. Especially if you continue to sit with us.”

“But, you can’t go to every class and expect no one to notice. You must have had a substitute teacher for English. There’s no freaking way Mrs. Daigler would not have called you to the front and lash at you in Spanish.”

“I sat in the back at another desk, no one asked,” I said as I finally took out my lunch: a California sushi roll. It was not as round and perfect as I wanted it to be, but it was okay for my third attempt at making it.

“And Alan?”

“I walked a bit and then got a ride from Kyle Franklin.”

“The running back on our football team? Six-foot, two-hundred and fifty odd—”

“Six-foot, five pounds and two-hundred and fifty-three pounds.”

“Yeah, what Lucas said. The dude would squash you into oblivion if he knew you were, well, you.”

“Maybe he already knows,” Simon said as he reached for a piece of the roll. I allowed it with a slight smile.

Mike laid his hands on the table and rested his head on them. “I see this ending badly…for all of us.”

“The three of you have nothing to worry about.”

“Kind of do, we’re your friends,” Simon said.

“Thank you,” I replied with the upmost sincerity.

“And because we are, we’re going to get slaughtered by the entire football team,” Lucas added.

“Maybe sooner than we thought,” Mike replied as looked ahead. Lucas and I turned around to see Jacob Parker and Ozzie Westorm stomping towards the table. Jacob and Ozzie were members of the football team, but they spent most of their time on the bench due to athletic code violations, drinking, and the occasional issue with bullying other students. How they stayed on the team—and were never expelled—was a question not even Yoda would want to try to answer.

They blazed their way to the table and their attention to me. “Why are you sitting with these losers?” Jacob inquired, as if insulting everyone around us would make me want to talk to him.

Mike’s eyes darted back and forth as he tried to think of answer that would not get him clobbered.

“The seat was open, so I sat down.”

“You’re new here?” Ozzie asked.

“Yes,” I replied as I turned back and took another bite of my roll.

“Let me give you some advice. You shouldn’t sit here.”

“Thank you for the advice, but I’m fine here.”

Ozzie leaned in further, too close for anyone’s comfort. “Sitting with these guys will tarnish a pretty girl like you.”

Mike choked back a laugh and Jacob turned to him.

“What do you find so funny, geek boy?”

“Nothing, Mike replied as he erupted in laughter and got up form his chair.

Jacob and Ozzie looked at each other and turned their gaze to Mike. Anger flashed red in their eyes as they moved towards Mike.
I stood up from my chair, darted around the table and kicked at Ozzie’s leg, causing it to buckle and he fell to the floor..

“Oh…” Simon said,

“Shit!” Lucas finished as they darted away from the table.

“You see what this bitch just did?” Ozzie yelled. You’re going down, girl!”

“Watashi wa jakusha o mamori warumono o basshinakereba narimasen!” I shouted as I took a step back. Jacob turned away from Mike, now both of them were leering at me.

We had the attention of the lunchroom as the two flanked me on each side. I figured they wouldn’t fight bushido and I do admit I felt that perhaps, maybe, probably, I over-stepped my cosplay as I didn’t have the magical powers to summon a fantastic beast to come to my aid. I prepared to be pummeled. Ozzie swung at me, but I move away and hit him on the side of his chest.

Jacob took that as an opportunity to slam me in the chest. It hurt like hell, but I was still up, so Ozzie made a step to pick me up.

“What the hell are you doing, Westorm?” A voice growled.

We all looked to see Kyle Franklin, his fists looking like they were channeling Chuck Norris.

I looked at Kyle, turned back to the table, grabbed my backpack, and raced out of the room.