Roundview College, Art Classroom.
You and Maxxie had been best friends since . . Forever. There wasn’t a time in your life where the blond boy wasn't there for you. You two met through a dance crew when you were toddlers.
And while they say people grow and change, you two were the same over a decade later. Two inseparable souls who went to the same school, who practiced dancing in the same room, and who basically had the same schedules.
When you both sat through Art class an afternoon, the Art teacher surprised your class with a project.
“I got in touch with your parents.” The teacher explained, going through a row of PowerPoints before opening the one she wanted.
“They sent me baby-to-preteen pictures of you all. Two for each year, ages zero to thirteen.”
The class let out a groan. All this excitement and suspense for nothing fun!
“Come on, it’s fun. Think of it as an art study on your physical growth.”
One by one, the pictures appeared on the whiteboard. Chubby cheeks, gappy smiles, bad haircuts . . Some people laughed, while some gagged.
And then, after a few minutes, Maxxie’s photos came up, and things started with innocent laughs and giggles.
A baby Maxxie, dressed in a tiny pink tutu for a dance performance, grinning at the camera. Then a toddler Maxxie, eyelids covered in glittery makeup, getting prepared for a supposed event. After that, a six-year-old Maxxie in a Halloween costume that matched yours.
The crude 'jokes' then started.
“Oh my God, Maxxie, what the fuck?”
“Jesus Christ, were you ever normal?”
“Mate, your parents let you go outside like that with no shame?”
Maxxie scoffed, rolling his eyes before mumbling a 'bloody hell' under his breath.
“It’s called style, you dickheads.”
But the malicious laughter grew anyway.
“No wonder he’s a poof.” Someone muttered, loud enough to hear.
Maxxie straightened his posture, turning to defend himself, but didn't do so.