She gave a little squeal as a soldier outside their house saw the curtain move and turned and trained his gun on her."I want to go home!” Charlotte announced as she strode into the kitchen.“You are home,” her mother answered, pouring a cup of tea for her father.“We need to go and get you your uniform. You begin school tomorrow.”“What?” Charlotte squealed. “A uniform? I’m in sixth form, we don’t wear uniforms.”“Well, you do here, young madam.” Her mother stood, staring at her.“Christ, what a fucking country!” Charlotte turned on her heels and stomped back to her bedroom.--------------“Brown and yellow? Are you serious?”You could cut the atmosphere in the School uniform outfitters with a knife. Charlotte read the list again.“Girls will wear a brown v-necked jumper and yellow blouse with a brown skirt and white knee-high socks.”She opened her mouth, then, seeing her mother’s face, quickly shut it again.“What the fuck?” thought Charlotte. She could feel the tears threaten to break. I think of it like osmosis, where elements of my consciousness somehow transferred into her consciousness, until it felt like we’d known each other all our lives, and had been best friends for the same amount of time.That first manifested itself when, one night, she got out of the tub in our apartment and walked over to her bed, drying off, as if walking around in the room naked like that was completely normal. I was reading my psychology textbook at the time, and glanced over. I was watching her dry off when she realized what was happening and covered herself with the towel.“What did you just do?” she asked. Her brain looked accusing.“Not a thing,” I said.She looked at my groin and I looked there too. I had an erection. I was already in bed for the night, so I was naked.“I don’t just walk around naked where you can see me,” she said. “You did something to me.”“No, I didn’t,” I said.She knew I never lied to her. That was one rule I never broke, because I knew if I didn’t have her.
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