Artemis Was Her Name

Written by Neenee Hu

"Hello," she whispered. "I'm Artemis Ezra."

I blinked and managed a grin. "I'm Lin Summers."

She laughed, tossing her head back. Black, licorice curls. Pale skin. Big gray eyes tinted with black. Very pretty.

"Lin Summers," she repeated, testing the way it rolled on her tongue. "You sound like a prep. What school are you from?"

I swallowed and rubbed the back of my neck. My mind was hazy and lightheaded- from her smile and her CVS perfume. Strong scents of candy and citrus.

"Briarwood Middle," I murmured, embarrassed.

"Briarwood Middle?! Seriously?" she exclaimed, punctuated by a loud cackle. "You really are a prep, girl!"

I chuckled sheepishly. "What about you? What school are you from?"

"Who, me?" She flipped her wavy hair over her shoulder and onto her back, radiating confidence and strength. I found myself wishing I had some of that, too.

"I don't go to school. I'm a work-at-home girl, you feel me?" she quipped

I couldn't help but laugh at her choice of words. "You talk like an old, retro hillbilly, Artemis." I choked out between giggles.

She rolled her eyes and reached out her hand for me to shake. Pale, slender fingers tinted rosy pink in the cold, reaching for my hand.

"Please," she said, smiling. "Call me Arty."

"You've never smoked a cig before?" I asked, fishing out my smokes from my frayed hoodie pocket. "You're missing out. Here, try this one. They're from the corner shop nearby. Best brand there. A bit pricey, but worth every penny."

Arty took the joint between her porcelain digits and blinked, examining it closely, eyelashes fluttering serenely. "Aren't these dangerous?" she asked, cocking a thin brow.

I cackled. "Dangerous? Girl, you ain't never seen dangerous before. We're skippin' class and having smokes in the backseat of my orange Jeep. What about this doesn't scream dangerous, Arty?"

She snickered softly. "I guess you're right. School isn't as bad as I thought."

"Told ya you'd get used to it, Arty. Just gotta put in some more elbow grease and the boys will do your homework for you." I winked. "And maybe more."

Arty giggled. Feminene. Sweet. Lively. Not anything like how she looks.

I felt my heart race. No. I don't like Arty. I told myself. It's weird to like girls.

But I couldn't help myself, nor could I help my heart. You try putting two girls together in a Jeep and make one extremely pretty, and see the results.

I knew homosexuality wasn't accepted in my town.

But whenever Artemis came to school dressed in another plaid skirt and sequin sweater, I couldn't help but fall for her more.

Poor me and poor Arty. One lovesick, one unknown.

We spent years smoking, laughing, and occasionally, flirting, in the backseat of our cars. Her brother, Samuel, had a huge crush on me, but I only liked Arty.

Then, I hit puberty.

Legs grew longer. Hair flowed over newly defined shoulders. Tanning actually started to show. Tank tops didn't have any more space in the front. Lashes curled without large amounts of gel and mascara. And now? I was hot.

I started to get more reckless. The flings started. One boyfriend after another, I discarded them when the kissing became repetitive and the flirting grew boring. I tossed them to the curb when I decided I didn't like their new haircut or the way they said "mine". I earned quite a reputation.

I still longed for Arty. We hung out, but she was in love with Thomas, my brother, now. I couldn't muster another little wink or a sassy remark when she was busy making puppy eyes at him, swooning. Not anymore. Not without feeling guilty. Not without feeling jealous.

One day, I was trying to get the courage to ask her out. Ask her on a date and maybe woo her into liking me more.

I rented a car. Bought flowers. Sprayed myself with Bath and Body Works body mist until I choked on my own scent when I sniffed too long.

I was just going to rent myself a booth at the retro diner nearby.

I heard the screeching of tires and the yelps.

I smelled the burning rubber.

I saw the headlights and the blood.

And then all went black.

Pitch, peaceful black.

I woke up in the hospital.

I blinked. Shuffled in my blankets. The sheets were warm, but the room was cold. The space smells like blood and lemon cleanser.

"What's going on?"

I stood up when nobody answered. Peeked through the mesh window in the door.

My room was across the surgery ward.

And who did I see?

A girl with licorice curls and pale skin, a dark, velvet patch growing slowly through her ribs, stomach, and blanket as she lay on a stretcher.

Arty. My Arty!

I banged my fist against the door. I needed to get to her. I needed to get to her! I needed to make sure she was okay! I needed to know what had happened!

I punched the window again. Blood leaked from between my knuckles and under my nails. Another punch. More blood. Again and again until my hands were smeared in red gore.

I banged my forehead against the mesh window. I felt the crimson dripping down my forehead, my eyes, my nose.

The black came again.

Darkness. Peaceful, blissful darkness.

I woke up in a bed that didn't seem to be mine.

My head was hazy. Who was I? Where was I?

I looked at my door. Lin Summers. That was my name. I glanced to my side. A pretty girl laid her hand on my shoulder. She had licorice curls. Pale skin. Big gray eyes tinted with black. She looked worried. A big IV was connected to her arm, pumping thin blue liquid into her blood. We wore matching gowns of light blue and polka dots.

She managed a small smile at me. Charming. My heart thumped.

"Hello," she whispered. "I'm Artemis Ezra."