The Lark and the Lyre

Hi! This is Caramel. I was bored, and I wanted to make a Pride Month story (even though it's August XD) so here ya go!
==Warning==
This story may mention things like physical abuse, mild swearing, and other subjects such as that. 
==Chapter One==
The little shop's doorbell rings as I walk in, one of this store's frequent customers. 
"Lark!" The man behind the counter, a large man with thick brown hair and wide, excited blue eyes smiles at me. "There's my regular! You're too cool for me, huh? I haven't seen you here in ages!" 
"Sorry, Mr. Mendez," I say, a little embarrassed. "You know how Mom is about school." 
He wrinkles his nose. "Yes, your mother. I've met her. Wasn't all too nice." 
I look at the ground. 
"What are you here for today, young lady?" Mr. Mendez asks, changing the subject. 
"'The smallest trinkets,' I quote him, "'that are bound to get lost in human creativity.'"
He laughs. "So you remembered!"
"Of course I did. It was my favorite thing you ever said."
I finally realize that there's another girl behind the counter, standing uncomfortably beside him. She has dark hair and large gray eyes, compared to her light honey-colored skin. She looks like one of those popular kids from school. I hate her instantly.
"Oh! Lark, this is my daughter, Lyra," Mr. Mendez says, apparently finally remembering to introduce us. "Lyra, this is Lark. A regular sweetheart, and the main reason our bank is filled."
She attempts for a smile. "H-hi."
"Nice to meet you," I say as politely as I can.
"Lyra's visiting with her grandparents," Mr. Mendez explains. I remember him telling me about how he was divorced once. "She'll be working in the shop for the month. Maybe you two will even become friends!"
I smile and nod politely, though on the inside I'm screaming HELL NO! 
"Well, Lark, I've bored you enough now," Mr. Mendez says. "Take a look around. We have a few new items." He sweeps his arm around the store, and I smile and start towards the shelves.
Mendez's Little Shop of Wonders (sorry, I had to put that in :D) isn't very well-known, but I love it anyway. It's been around for ten years and sells all sorts of random items, including sea glass and a hat with a broken ribbon.
I make a beeline for the accessories. What I love most about the shop is the little pieces of jewelry Mr. Mendez collects, including a twisted pearl necklace and a scuffed turquoise bracelet. There's even a diamond ring in perfect condition, but Mr. Mendez rarely lets anyone touch it. It was his mother's, he says, and it's just to look at.
He'd make an excellent museum curator.
I admire the rope of pearls and very carefully wind it around my neck. But all too soon, it's off and the turquoise bracelet eventually wins my heart.
Mother used to love turquoise.
I shake the thought away and wave to Mr. Mendez as I leave, but then Lyra - his daughter - abruptly comes after. 
"You forgot your change," she says, sounding more confident now. 
"Thanks," I say. 
"No problem." 
She makes no move to leave. 
"Um..." I try gently. "I'm sure your dad's waiting for you?" 
"Oh! Sorry." She turns around. "I'm really forgetful." 
Lyra laughs and waves at me, then she's gone, down the path. I find myself waving back, but I snap down my hand before she can see.
There's a strange feeling growing in the back of my mind - one that makes me want to run after Lyra and beg her, "No! Stay! Get to know me!" But the logical part of me stays in place. 
I should probably get home. 
I sigh and start to head back down the street, my mind weighed down with new thoughts. 
What is wrong with me? 
==Chapter Two ==
"Lyra, what took you so long?" Dad scolds. 
I blush. "Sorry. I forgot." 
"You didn't, and we both know it," Dad says. He knows I've been gay for two years, and he's pretty accepting about it. 
My mom, though, isn't. 
That's the real reason I'm visiting Dad. Eventually, the physical abuse at home became too much. And the only thing we could do was send me away. 
My cardigan sleeve lifts slightly, revealing an ugly burn scar. I pull it back and try to focus on the conversation. 
"How's Gran?" I ask him. His mother, Lily Mendez, has been in the hospital for over a month, recovering from an injury, and I haven't heard back since. 
He sighs. "I don't know. They aren't accepting visitors anymore, and they're refusing to tell me her progress. It's starting to make me really, really worried about what her future health will be like." 
I nudge him playfully. "It'll be fine, because her son worries about her enough for the two of you."
He smiles, a little sadly, down at me. "What did I do to get such a wonderful daughter like you?" 
"It's my job." 
"I like your job." 
"Thank you." 
"So, what about Lark? What do you think of her?" Dad teases me. 
My cheeks flush. "Nothing! It's fine. I don't 'like-like' her." 
"So you say." 
"It's the truth."
"It isn't, Lyra," Dad says playfully. "I saw your face when you looked at her." 
I sigh. "Fine. Maybe I do have a crush on her. But it's just a fling. Whatever. And it's not like she likes me back, anyway." 
"Summer love turns to forever love," Dad singsongs. 
"Shut up, old man." 
"Who are you calling old?" 
I retreat against the hood of the car and hold out my hands in mock surrender. "I am ever so sorry, Your Highness. What can I do to make up for it."
He assumes an imperial air. "First of all, do the laundry for me. Secondly, you must wash the dishes. And - " 
"I take back everything I just said." 
He laughs. 
We get in the car, with me in the passenger seat and him in the front. Dad revs the engine and jerks the wheel to the left, and we’re off. 
Dad guides the car down the road, rumbling softly along. I gaze out the window, passing other cars and streets with odd names.
All too soon, we’re arriving at Nana and Grandfather’s house. The door swings wide open and my grandparents are waiting with wide smiles and open arms as I hop out of the car and dash straight into their hugs. 
“I missed you, honey,” Nana whispers into my ear. “And I’m glad you’re here to visit!” 
“Me too,” I murmur. 
Grandfather smiles at me. “There’s a girl next door who seems nice,” he says conversationally as they lead me deeper into their home. “Her parents are off on a trip or such, and she lives mostly by herself. I believe her name is...Songbird? Kite? Swift? Eagle, maybe? No, it was Lark.” He forges on, not noticing my shocked look. “There’s a boy who lives near us with his older brother and his mom, because his dad died last year in a car accident. Poor thing, he used to come over all the time.”
He pauses for breath, and I jump in to seize the moment. “Nana, can you show me around the neighborhood?” 
Her eyes twinkle. “Gladly!”
Grandfather reaches for a plate of cookies balanced crookedly on the counter, but Nana swipes it away before he can grab it. “Ah-ah-ah, guests first.” 
I grin and take one as she opens the door outside.
Nana shows me around, explaining every little detail and every house where every person lives. She isn’t as talkative as Grandfather, but once she starts she really gets into it.
She introduces me to a boy name Salvador and his older brother, Manit. There’s a woman, Cara, living with her fat, old, cat. A couple, Everly and Thomas, are happy to welcome us and eat the majority of the cookies. 
But when the next doorbell rings, it’s someone I know. 
The door flies open, and Lark stands there with a small smile on her face.
==Chapter Three==
“Lyra!” I say, trying to hide my surprise.  
“Lark! N-nice to see you again.” 
I blush. “Same here.” 
There’s an elderly woman with her, her hair tied back in a bun and a pleasant expression on her face. “I’m Sarah, but everyone calls me Nana,” she says cheerfully. “Even those who aren’t my grandchildren.” Sarah winks, and I feel an instant kinship with her. 
“Nice to meet you, to. I’m Lark.” 
“Like the bird?” she says, the words flying out of her mouth.  
I suppress my irritation. This question is asked every time, every single time. “Yes, like the bird.” 
Nana looks embarrassed. “Can we come in, dear?”  
“Sure.” I lead them inside. 
Lyra’s been quiet for a while, looking around in amazement, but now she says, “We...um...brought cookies.”  
“That’s nice of you,” I say, not even trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. Her face falls, and I immediately feel guilty.  
“Sorry, it’s...just been a long day.”  
“I feel you,” she says, and takes a cookie, avoiding my gaze.  
“Do you want to...take a walk?” I ask her, pointing at the small park beyond the house. 
She attempts a smile. “That sounds nice.”
So we head on.
The walk in general is nice - she points out birds and flowers that she knows, and I surprise her with my utter cluelessness because forsythias and asters both look the same to me. She ends up laughing so hard she nearly falls over when I call the lavender lilacs, and we decide that’s enough for the day. 
I smile at her. “That was....really fun,” I say, not able to keep the shock out of my voice. Who knew, we might become friends?
“Yeah,” Lyra says. “Me too.” Her voice is almost a whisper. 
We laugh and tell stories the way back home, but there’s something changed in her expression. Something wistful and haunting that makes me want to grab her and hug her tight, but I restrain myself. 
“What’s wrong?” I ask her gently. 
She squeezes her eyes shut, like it’s all a dream. “I-it’s nothing.” 
It has to be something, but I don’t pry. So I lead her back to Nana, thank them for coming over, and finally shut the door, a new thought twisting through my mind. 
I don’t think I like boys that much anymore.
==Chapter Four==
“Stupid!” I mutter to myself. You might’ve told her!
”What was that, honey?” Nana asks from in front of me. 
“Nothing, sorry.” 
“Alright, then.” 
She carefully balances the cookies. “Your grandfather is going to be so mad if we don’t leave any for him.”  
Indeed, he actually makes a beeline for the cookies instead of us. Me and Nana laugh ourselves silly when he grabs the whole plate and literally brings a new meaning to the phrase “stuffing your face.”  
“Alright, I think that’s enough for today,” Nana says snatching away the plate. 
He makes a face. "I suppose I deserve that." 
"Yes, you do," Nana agrees.  
She looks back at me with bright eyes. "So, Lyra, what do you think of the neighborhood?"  
My cheeks heat. "It's...nice! Everyone's nice! This place is..." I trail off when I notice my grandparents exchanging a knowing look.  
"Whaaaaaaat?" I bemoan. 
"Nothing, sweetie," Nana says, reaching down to kiss the top of my head. I bat her hand away. 
"If it's anything about that Lark girl - " Grandfather starts, and I clap my hands over my ears. "I don't want to hear it!"  
"Oh, so I see. You aren't...involved in any way?"  
"Noooooooo," I whine.  
Nana shushes my grandfather. "Thomas, don't embarrass her." 
"The damage is already done," I mutter. 
Nana laughs. 
She shows me to my temporary room, and I close the door as I stare at the ceiling. 
There's an image engraved on the walls: of a small, brown-whiteish bird, lifting its head to sing a sweet note. A woman stands nearby, her auburn hair braided into a slender plait. In her hands is a harp-like instrument, and her fingers dance across the delicate strings. 
The lark and the lyre.
I know we'll be perfect together. 
I know I'll stay this time. 
I know I can't fail now.
I know.
==Chapter Five==
Is that right?
Do I like Lyra....girls...more than I thought? 
The movies make friendship look so easy. 
I struggle with the thought for a few more moments, and finally decide to go outside. Maybe the fresh air will clear my head. Maybe this is just a momentary lapse, after all. 
But that’s proved wrong, when I open the door and immediately almost smack straight into Lyra. 
“Lark!” she yelps. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there! Are you okay?” 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She reaches out a hand, and I pull myself off of the concrete in the name of politeness. 
“So what are you doing?” Lyra asks. 
I shrug. “Just talking a walk, that’s all.” 
“Can I come with you?” She looks hopeful. 
”I guess,” I say. It can’t hurt. 
She looks a little confused at my tone. “Well...okay, then!” 
We walk in silence for a while, occasionally breaking it to point out a bird or a flower, but for the most part we think our own thoughts. 
And then Lyra turns to me, and words tumble out of her mouth. Words that will change my life forever.
==Chapter Six==
Tell her, tell her, tell her, my heart hums, pounding an incessant rhythm inside my chest. It can’t' be avoided, anyway.
Scared, pressured, wondering what it’ll do to me. Emotions press down on all sides. And there’s only one way to escape it now. 
And so I tell her.
(W.I.P.)
Category:Fiction
Category:Literature
Category:Pride Month Story