Luna dragged herself out of bed on a dreary Monday morning and shambled to the bathroom like a zombie, clad only in a purple tank top and yellow panties covered in purple polka dots. She bumped into someone, said, "'Scuse me, bro," and realized as she stumbled away that it wasn't a bro, it was a doorframe.

The line for the can was six deep, Lincoln at the front and Lola just ahead of her, arms crossed and her foot tapping restlessly against the floor. Luna yawned, stretched, and scratched her butt. She smacked her lips and winced; aw, man, righteous morning breath. What did she eat last night, ass?

Actually, lol, she sneaked out and went over to Sam's, where they spent most of the night playing their instruments...and their guitars too ;)

The door opened and Leni came out with a towel wrapped around her head, which made her look like a terrorist. Lincoln slipped in, closed the door behind him, and the line moved up a step.

Luna didn't go over to Sam's house just to hang, she went with a purpose, but she got cold feet on the way there and decided to put it off for a while. Just like she had five times already. Hey, six is a nice, even number, right?

Maybe seven would be the charm.

When her turn came, she used the loo, brushed her teeth, and rolled some DO onto her pits. She checked herself out in the mirror to make sure she didn't have any drool crusted on her lips or something, and nodded her satisfaction. Back in her room, she rifled through her dresser for something to wear while Luan pulled her socks and shoes on. Like Luna, Luan was gay af. Luna caught her and this girl named Maggie making out a few weeks ago. Luan tried to pass it off like they were just tickle fighting, but Luna wasn't buying. Admit it, bro, you're a dyke.

Maggie, ashamed, threw the blanket over her head, and Luan glared. No! We're just friends! Two days later, Luna walked in on them again. You really gotta learn to lock the door, Luna said, and Luan jumped a foot.

Fine, Luan said and hung her head. She and Maggie sat side by side, the blankets pooled around their waists. She took Maggie's hand for support, threaded their fingers together, and sighed deeply. We're gay, she said soberly.

Sweet, Luna said, so am I.

Luan gaped. You?

Sure am, bro, Luna said and dropped onto the edge of her bed. I'm an ass and titty girl myself. Love it when a chick has a big rack.

B-B-But…

Why do you think I hang out at Sam's so much? She held her arms out in front of her and humped the air for emphasis.

Luan looked at her like she couldn't possibly comprehend the thought of Luna being gay. Really? How long?

My whole life, dude, my whole life.

That wasn't really true, but in a way, it kind of was. Being gay, as far as Luna knew, didn't just happen - you're born with it - but sometimes it takes you a while to figure it out. For the longest time, she thought she liked boys, then, right after getting into rock, she made out with a girl at a KISS concert...and that's when she knew. She'd been with a few girls over the past two years, but she never felt even a fraction of what she felt for Sam. It was a constant, nonstop ache in her chest that never went away, and the only thing that could dull it was being with Sam: Holding her hand, hearing her voice, and kissing her lips. When they were together, Luna felt free...and when they were apart, it was like being slowly crushed in a vise: Chest tightening, lungs withering, spirit dying, stomach fluttering...oh, man, that last one was the worst. Like a thousand butterflies flapping their wings against her gut walls in perfect, hateful harmony.

Is that what being in love felt like? Like you're drowning when you're not with your girl? Like there's a hollow spot in her soul when she's not around? Like you can't sit still?

She didn't like it, and there was only one way she saw to cure it.

How come you never told me? Luan asked

That made Luna chuckle. What are you, the crotch watch? Why didn't you tell me you're gay?

Unlike many young gays, Luna did not fear coming out to her family - Mom and Dad were old school liberals who accepted everyone and taught their children to do likewise - but, honestly, she didn't feel like it was anyone's business but hers. And also...ya know...talking to your parents about anything having to do with sex...awwwwwkward. In seventh grade, Mom gave her "the talk" and oh my God, that was most uncomfortable shit ever.

Presently, she yanked a purple skirt from drawer and pulled it on, hips wiggling as she slid it up her shapely thighs. Luan tied her laces, got to her feet, and picked her phone up from the nightstand. "You and Sam wanna do something with me and Mags after school?" she asked.

After her chat with Luan and Maggie, Luna brought up the idea of them double dating some time. "Nah, man, not today, I got…" she trailed off as her eyes fell across the small box sitting on the dresser. "I got something to do," she finished resolutely. Seventh time's the charm, and brother, today was gonna be real charming.

Luan picked her backpack up off the floor and slung it over her shoulder. "I thought you did that last night," she said playfully.

Like any good sister, Luan covered for Luna when she snuck out to be with Sam, which Luna really appreciated. She didn't steal away very often, and when she did, she made sure to wait until Mom and Dad were in bed. That way she'd have a less likely chance of being caught, and Luan wouldn't have to run around making up crazy excuses for why Luna wasn't around...or dressing up like her.

Which she totally did. Linc had a trunk full of clothes and wigs under his bed.

Sometimes Luna wondered about him too…

Anyway, she didn't sneak out of the house frequently, but when she did, it was only to see Sam. Both of them were totally straight edge and vowed never to do drugs or drink. Some people might think that made them lame, but you wanna know what's really lame? Being so fucked up on LSD you thrash around on the floor screaming about bat country and shit. You know why rock stars drink and do drugs? It's not to be "cool," it's to cope. With fame. Fortune. Depression. You name it. Luna wasn't famous, she wasn't rich, and she sure as hell wasn't depressed. What could coke and molly give her that she didn't have already? Euphoria? She felt that every time Sam kissed her. Roaring good will? She got that when Sam said I love you. Forgetting her worries?

Bro...what worries?

Oh, sure, she had normal first world problems like anyone, but overall, she was doing okay. Great family, lots of friends, sexy girl~

"Nah, this is something else," she said. She grabbed the box and slipped it into her skirt pocket. She picked up her iPod and dropped it in too, then slipped one of the buds into her ear. ""Something serious. I'm kinda nervous." She chuckled humorlessly.

"What?" Luan asked, her voice softening.

Luna considered telling her, but shook her head. "It's nothing. I'll tell you later."

Luan hesitated, then shrugged. "Alright. Good luck with whatever it is."

"Thanks."

After Luan left, Luna grabbed her bag and went downstairs, the sweet sounds of Megadeth serenading one side of her brain. In the dining room, everyone sat around the table eating cereal. Pop-Pop, who'd been crashing with Lincoln ever since his nursing home burned down, was at the head, clad in tan trousers and a white T-shirt. He scanned the paper and sipped from a mug of coffee.

"Come on," Lori urged and batted her eyelashes, "show us those epic roast skills you keep talking about."

Roasting your siblings in the morning was a storied Loud family tradition going back to, like, July 2017 or something. Every day, one sister (or brother) took her (or his) place on the chopping block, and everyone went hard until it was time to leave...or the whipping boy (or girl) rage quit their breakfast.

Pop-Pop flipped a page. "Nah," he said, "I'm not gonna roast my grandkids." He chuckled heartily. "That'd be awful."

"More like you can't," Lola sniffed.

"I could," Pop-Pop demurred, "I just don't want to."

"He lost his sense of humor when Mom and Dad stuck him in that nursing home," Lynn said with an evil grin. "Not much to laugh about in there."

Everyone oooohed and looked at Pop-Pop. A scarlet blush tinged his cheeks - you know you're getting a Loud mad when you see that - and he forced a tight chuckle. "I agreed to go in there on my own."

"They dumped him on the curb along with all his crap," Lori said. "Well...what they didn't throw away."

Luna went into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl, and filled it with Kix. She poured milk on top and went back into the dining room, sitting in the open seat next to Lisa.

Pop-Pop folded his paper and set it on the table, his movements slow and deliberate, like a snake getting ready to strike. "That's enough," he said firmly.

"He, like, can't take the heat," Leni said.

Pop-Pop's face turned bright red and his hands fisted on the table.

"We better knock it off, girls," Lola said, "he might have another heart attack."

Wow, were they really doing this to Pop-Pop? Holy shit. This is, like, uncanny valley shit or something.

"Too bad he's too poor to leave us an inheritance," Lori said.

"Some grandparents are worth more dead," Lana said, "but he's worthless either way."

Pop-Pop jumped to his feet, the chair falling back and the table shaking when he slammed his open hands down onto it. "I knew I should have stayed with your aunt Roberta. Her kids aren't a bunch of misbehaved ingrates like you. You want a roast? Lynn, you're never going to be anything in sports. You're mediocre just like your uncle Bill. You know what he does these days? He's an alcoholic because he can't handle his failure of a life. Leni, you know what I can't handle? Pretending that your mother didn't drop you on your head when you were a baby. She did. Several times."

Leni blinked and Pop-Pop turned to Lori. "You look just like your mother when she was your age. You know what that means? You're gonna be obese when you're forty. And your pizza boy hombre will be just like your father - a balding cuck with low testosterone who can't even get it up. Lana, I'd be offended if anyone else said that, but since you walk around with dog shit smeared on your teeth, I can't take you seriously."

Finally, he looked at Lola, and she recoiled in holy fear. "Remember all the times I said I was sick so I couldn't go to your pageants? I lied. I couldn't stand to see you lose to Lindsey Sweetwater anymore. You parade around here and say you're the best...if you were the best, you'd win every once in a while. You're garbage. Blonde, airhead, gap-tooth garbage stuffed into a hand-me-down pink dress from the Salvation Army and a plastic playset crown. At least I have a heart to have a heart attack. You have nothing but an undeservedly swollen ego and a room full of paperweight trophies because out of ten ugly little girls, you just happened to be the least ugly that day."

Everyone gaped at him.

He snatched his coffee and some splashed over the rim. "There's your goddamn roast," he said and stormed out.

For a moment, everyone looked at each other...then went back to eating. "Ours were better," Lynn said matter-of-factly, "I've heard that peaked in high school line before."

"Everyone always says that about my crown," Lola said.

Leni touched her chin. "Mom dropped me?"

"She dropped all of us," Lori said. "Remember when she dropped Lincoln on the kitchen floor?"

Leni giggled. "He, like, screamed for an hour."

"She dropped Lana on the ice, then Lana slid away," Lori said. "Almost went in the road."

Everyone laughed.

Precious memories, man, precious memories.

After breakfast, Luna took her bowl to the sink, stacked it on top of the others, and went into the living room, where Pop-Pop watched Good Morning America. Everyone else was lined up at the door, shrugging into their coats, pulling on their rain boots, and digging through their bags to make sure they had everything. "You kids have a good day," he said.

Before leaving, everyone went over to Pop-Pop and kissed him on the cheek. When Lincoln tried, Pop-Pop pushed him away. "Don't be a fag," he said and held out his hand, palm facing up. "Gimme some skin."

Lincoln smirked and slapped Pop-Pop's palm.

Outside, the day was cold and damp, the few leaves remaining in the trees along Franklin faded and washed out shades of yellow and orange. Luna paused on the porch, zipped her jacket, and went down the stairs, a light drizzle pelting her head and dampening her shaggy brown hair. Normally she rode with Lori, but today she felt like walking. Walking helps clear the mind and expel nervous energy. She ducked her head, shoved her hands into her pockets, and hurried down the wet sidewalk.

Maybe she should put it off again. The weather was kinda funky, and what she had in mind, man, you can't do that on a day like this. You need sunshine and shit.

She already put it off, legit, six times. It was starting to get stupid. She needed to woman up a little, bite the bullet, and get it done and over with.

She was worried, though.

Worried that Sam wouldn't be down.

It was kind of a big thing. Perhaps a little too big. Springing it on Sam like probably wasn't fair. She should just let it go for now. Wait six months or a year. She and Sam had only been together four months. That's not very long.

Too soon?

Maybe, man, maybe.

By the time Royal County High appeared through a screen of trees like a pedo peeking through some bushes, her stomach was a gnashing pit of anxiety and she could hardly breathe. A line of yellow buses idled at the curb and disgorged streams of kids, and others converged from surrounding streets. Luna stopped, turned off her iPod, and joined a crush of humanity lumbering through the main doors. Principal Ramirez stood by the entrance with his hands clasped behind his back and a scowl on his craggy face. Luna didn't have any beef with "the man" but this dude was too much. He stalked the halls like a phantom shadow, and if he caught you so much as whistling, he'd tear you limb from limb.

He also had a pentagram tatted on his palm.

Which was, uh...yeah.

Inside the vaulted lobby, a hall flanked by lockers stretched into forever, eventually filtering out in the gym. Two more opened up on either side, and she turned left, unconsciously scanning the crowd for Sam. At the cafeteria, she spotted her sitting at a table against the wall, her breakfast in front of her. A tall, thin girl with blonde hair streaked blue, Sam wore acid washed jeans and a black T-shirt beneath a ripped denim jacket. A dreamy smile crossed Luna's face and she let out a contented sigh. She was the hottest, raddest, most bodacious chick Luna had ever seen, and every time she realized that Sam was hers, she felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

Downstairs, she just felt warm~

Shoving her way through gangs of jocks, suburban gangstas, and dumb, giggly girls, Luna made her way to the table and sat across from Sam. Sam looked up from her tray and grinned. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," Luna replied through a smile, "you look hot today."

Sam snickered. "Thanks. You look hot too."

Luna told her the same thing every morning, but in her defense, that's because it was true every morning. And afternoon. And evening. And night. "How you feeling?"

"Sore," Sam whispered with a blush.

"So it was good," Luna said proudly.

Sam nodded. "It always is," she said with a smirk.

Suddenly, Luna became keenly aware of the box in her pocket, like a hot coal burning into her leg. "You wanna take a walk after school?" she asked haltingly.

"I guess," Sam said noncommittally.

Luna flashed a nervous grin.

She was hoping she'd say no so she could put this off again.

"Great," she said.