JACKIE TAYLOR | YELLOWJACKETS

Your foot bounced rapidly against the creaky floorboards, thumbnail caught between your teeth, your eyes burning holes in the ground.

You were so distracted by the thoughts pounding around in your head like a marching band that you didn't even hear the sound of your older sister, Jackie, coming up the stairs. At least, not until she opened the door and peeked inside.

You glanced up after seeing the shift of the door in the corner of your eye.

Jackie stood tall, arms crossed loosely over her Yellowjackets training kit. A grey t-shirt with navy writing Wiskayok, Yellowjackets on the chest, and some matching shorts. Her hair was tied up and some strands stuck to the sweat on her forehead.

Despite that, she still looked as radiant as ever.

It made you feel small. Somehow.

Not that you didn't want your sister to have the best of the best. Just that, sometimes, it felt like because of those things, she sort of overshadowed you.

Of course, you'd never voice it. You wouldn't want to worry her.

It just sat in your stomach. Heavy, but not as heavy as the other realisation sitting like an anvil in your chest. It felt crushing. Desperate. Like you'd do anything but look at it. Anything but accept it.

You knew it wasn't a choice. You didn't choose to be this way.

You didn't choose to look at girls in the way you were supposed to be looking at boys. You didn't choose to get flustered every time a pretty girl greeted you. You didn't choose to feel your pulse race every time a girl friend tipped your chin up to help with your makeup.

It was just that way you were wired.

Jackie stepped forward, flopping onto your bed like a fish.

"Spill." She said, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her feet in the air, resting her chin in the palms of her hands.

"What?" You asked, confused and a tiny bit scared that she knew.

And she did. Not exactly to the T. But she knew that something was weighing you down.

"You've been acting weird for the last.." She counted on her fingers, "three months. Three! And you still haven't told me what's up."

"Nothing's up, Jackie. I'm just.." you trailed off, your mind searching for excuses. "Tired, Jackie. I'm tired."

Tired of what?

Pretending that you're someone you're not?

"Liar." Jackie said, a musical lilt to her words. Teasing, yet serious. "Usually when you're tired, you're super cranky. And you look like a racoon." She raised her fingers to the skin beneath her eyelids and slightly tugged on them, making her look droopier.

A small chuckle left your mouth without you realising it.

Then it faded.

Jackie noticed the tension in your shoulders and her playfulness disappeared.

"Seriously, you know you can tell me when something's wrong, right?" She reminded gently. Her hand reached up to your cheek, thumb dragging over your cheekbone.

"Nothing's wrong, Jackie." You blinked fast, gently pushing away her hand. "I mean.."

"Would you still love me if I was.. different?"

The question burst out like a bullet. You regretted it immediately, especially when her face scrunched up in confusion. You wanted to take back the words and tuck them into your shirt pocket.

"Different like what?" She questioned, straightening up with seriousness.

You fidgeted with your fingers, nails half-bitten from anxiety about this moment. You knew it was coming sooner or later, Jackie always had an eye for spotting when you were acting off. And you couldn't hide it from her for forever.

"I mean, hypothetically.. what if I liked girls or something? Would you still love me?"

Jackie immediately softened her features, a slow smile gracing her lips. "Well, duh. You're my little sis." She reached up to ruffle your hair, "As long as you're not, like, Randy weird, I'll always love you."

Your mind cleared the tiniest bit.

But what if she was just saying that?

You swallowed.

"What?" Jackie said, tilting her head.

"What if that hypothetical was true?" You murmured.

"Is it?" She responded, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Your throat tightened. Fuck, why was this so hard to say?

Worries started to seep into your mind again. So much so that tears blurred your vision, everything becoming splotchy and blurry.

"Hey.." Jackie sat up, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into her chest, stroking your hair as soft sobs wracked through your body. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay."

Jackie waited until your cries became little sniffles, then she supper your face and gently urged you from her shoulder. Her gentle eyes met your red-rimmed ones, thumb wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"I don't care if you like girls. Heck, half my team likes girls and I don't have a problem with it. They're still my friends, and you're still my sister. No matter what."

Your foot bounced rapidly against the creaky floorboards, thumbnail caught between your teeth, your eyes burning holes in the ground.

You were so distracted by the thoughts pounding around in your head like a marching band that you didn't even hear the sound of your older sister, Jackie, coming up the stairs. At least, not until she opened the door and peeked inside.

You glanced up after seeing the shift of the door in the corner of your eye.

Jackie stood tall, arms crossed loosely over her Yellowjackets training kit. A grey t-shirt with navy writing Wiskayok, Yellowjackets on the chest, and some matching shorts. Her hair was tied up and some strands stuck to the sweat on her forehead.

Despite that, she still looked as radiant as ever.

It made you feel small. Somehow.

Not that you didn't want your sister to have the best of the best. Just that, sometimes, it felt like because of those things, she sort of overshadowed you.

Of course, you'd never voice it. You wouldn't want to worry her.

It just sat in your stomach. Heavy, but not as heavy as the other realisation sitting like an anvil in your chest. It felt crushing. Desperate. Like you'd do anything but look at it. Anything but accept it.

You knew it wasn't a choice. You didn't choose to be this way.

You didn't choose to look at boys in the way you were supposed to be looking at girls. You didn't choose to get flustered every time a guy greeted you. You didn't choose to feel your pulse race every time a boy friend brushed fingers with you after handing you your water bottle.

It was just that way you were wired.

Jackie stepped forward, flopping onto your bed like a fish.

"Spill." She said, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her feet in the air, resting her chin in the palms of her hands.

"What?" You asked, confused and a tiny bit scared that she knew.

And she did. Not exactly to the T. But she knew that something was weighing you down.

"You've been acting weird for the last.." She counted on her fingers, "three months. Three! And you still haven't told me what's up."

"Nothing's up, Jackie. I'm just.." you trailed off, your mind searching for excuses. "Tired, Jackie. I'm tired."

Tired of what?

Pretending that you're someone you're not?

"Liar." Jackie said, a musical lilt to her words. Teasing, yet serious. "Usually when you're tired, you're super cranky. And you look like a racoon." She raised her fingers to the skin beneath her eyelids and slightly tugged on them, making her look droopier.

A small chuckle left your mouth without you realising it.

Then it faded.

Jackie noticed the tension in your shoulders and her playfulness disappeared.

"Seriously, you know you can tell me when something's wrong, right?" She reminded gently. Her hand reached up to your cheek, thumb dragging over your cheekbone.

"Nothing's wrong, Jackie." You blinked fast, gently pushing away her hand. "I mean.."

"Would you still love me if I was.. different?"

The question burst out like a bullet. You regretted it immediately, especially when her face scrunched up in confusion. You wanted to take back the words and tuck them into your shirt pocket.

"Different like what?" She questioned, straightening up with seriousness.

You fidgeted with your fingers, nails half-bitten from anxiety about this moment. You knew it was coming sooner or later, Jackie always had an eye for spotting when you were acting off. And you couldn't hide it from her for forever.

"I mean, hypothetically.. what if I liked boys or something? Would you still love me?"

Jackie immediately softened her features, a slow smile gracing her lips. "Well, duh. You're my little bro." She reached up to ruffle your hair, "As long as you're not, like, Randy weird, I'll always love you."

Your mind cleared the tiniest bit.

But what if she was just saying that?

You swallowed.

"What?" Jackie said, tilting her head.

"What if that hypothetical was true?" You murmured.

"Is it?" She responded, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Your throat tightened. Fuck, why was this so hard to say?

Worries started to seep into your mind again. So much so that tears blurred your vision, everything becoming splotchy and blurry.

"Hey.." Jackie sat up, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into her chest, stroking your hair as soft sobs wracked through your body. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay."

Jackie waited until your cries became little sniffles, then she supper your face and gently urged you from her shoulder. Her gentle eyes met your red-rimmed ones, thumb wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"I don't care if you like boys. I'm pretty sure my coach is the same, and I've never had a problem with it. He's still my coach, and you're still my little brother. No matter what."

Your foot bounced rapidly against the creaky floorboards, thumbnail caught between your teeth, your eyes burning holes in the ground.

You were so distracted by the thoughts pounding around in your head like a marching band that you didn't even hear the sound of your older sister, Jackie, coming up the stairs. At least, not until she opened the door and peeked inside.

You glanced up after seeing the shift of the door in the corner of your eye.

Jackie stood tall, arms crossed loosely over her Yellowjackets training kit. A grey t-shirt with navy writing Wiskayok, Yellowjackets on the chest, and some matching shorts. Her hair was tied up and some strands stuck to the sweat on her forehead.

Despite that, she still looked as radiant as ever.

It made you feel small. Somehow.

Not that you didn't want your sister to have the best of the best. Just that, sometimes, it felt like because of those things, she sort of overshadowed you.

Of course, you'd never voice it. You wouldn't want to worry her.

It just sat in your stomach. Heavy, but not as heavy as the other realisation sitting like an anvil in your chest. It felt crushing. Desperate. Like you'd do anything but look at it. Anything but accept it.

You knew it wasn't a choice. You didn't choose to be this way.

You didn't choose to feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You didn't choose to feel more you when people mistaked you for the opposite gender. You didn't choose to feel like you weren't who you were assigned at birth.

It was just that way you were wired.

Jackie stepped forward, flopping onto your bed like a fish.

"Spill." She said, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her feet in the air, resting her chin in the palms of her hands.

"What?" You asked, confused and a tiny bit scared that she knew.

And she did. Not exactly to the T. But she knew that something was weighing you down.

"You've been acting weird for the last.." She counted on her fingers, "three months. Three! And you still haven't told me what's up."

"Nothing's up, Jackie. I'm just.." you trailed off, your mind searching for excuses. "Tired, Jackie. I'm tired."

Tired of what?

Pretending that you're someone you're not?

"Liar." Jackie said, a musical lilt to her words. Teasing, yet serious. "Usually when you're tired, you're super cranky. And you look like a racoon." She raised her fingers to the skin beneath her eyelids and slightly tugged on them, making her look droopier.

A small chuckle left your mouth without you realising it.

Then it faded.

Jackie noticed the tension in your shoulders and her playfulness disappeared.

"Seriously, you know you can tell me when something's wrong, right?" She reminded gently. Her hand reached up to your cheek, thumb dragging over your cheekbone.

"Nothing's wrong, Jackie." You blinked fast, gently pushing away her hand. "I mean.."

"Would you still love me if I was.. different?"

The question burst out like a bullet. You regretted it immediately, especially when her face scrunched up in confusion. You wanted to take back the words and tuck them into your shirt pocket.

"Different like what?" She questioned, straightening up with seriousness.

You fidgeted with your fingers, nails half-bitten from anxiety about this moment. You knew it was coming sooner or later, Jackie always had an eye for spotting when you were acting off. And you couldn't hide it from her for forever.

"I mean, hypothetically.. what if I wanted to be.. someone else? Would you still love me?"

Jackie immediately softened her features, a slow smile gracing her lips. "Well, duh. You're my little nuisance." She reached up to ruffle your hair, "As long as you're not, like, Randy weird, I'll always love you."

Your mind cleared the tiniest bit.

But what if she was just saying that?

You swallowed.

"What?" Jackie said, tilting her head.

"What if that hypothetical was true?" You murmured.

"Is it?" She responded, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Your throat tightened. Fuck, why was this so hard to say?

Worries started to seep into your mind again. So much so that tears blurred your vision, everything becoming splotchy and blurry.

"Hey.." Jackie sat up, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into her chest, stroking your hair as soft sobs wracked through your body. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay."

Jackie waited until your cries became little sniffles, then she supper your face and gently urged you from her shoulder. Her gentle eyes met your red-rimmed ones, thumb wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"I don't care if you wanna be someone else. You can be anyone you want and I'll still love you, I'm always going to be by your side. You're still my little annoying sibling, no matter what."