Devoting yourself to something is one of the hardest things to do. Such as cleaning your room every night, playing an instrument, writing, sleeping (at least with insomnia), living, eating. For me, it's all of these.

"Arden," a voice shouted, "could you please come out here."

I trudged out of my door to see what was going on.

"Please cook dinner, would ya?" My mom asked.

It was a good thing she stopped using my deadname. My neck jerked to the side swiftly.

"God," she yelled, "could you stop doing that!"

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

I grab a pot from the cabinet. The stove was yellowed and freckled with brown spots of goop. My mom was laying on her moldy grey recliner watching soap operas.

"Ma," I shouted, "you want mac n' cheese." I like to mimic her thick southern accent.

"For cryin' out loud," she spat, "I don't care. Just make it."

I didn't say anything. I knew anything I said was going to come off as rude. I rummage through the empty pantry.

"The pantry needs restocking," I tell her.

"Then do it," she grumped.

I roll my eyes. I measured the 6 cups of water to boil.

"When is dad coming home?" I ask.

"Who cares?" She leans back farther.

My nose sniffles. My father was a good man. Why couldn't he be the one I was stuck with. My thick black hair swoops over my eyes as a strand swirls into the water.

"Oh well," I whisper to myself. I pour the noodles in and wait for them to cook.

Daniela waits for me at the door. She is my only true best friend. I give her the signal. Two fingers facing down. I pour the water out and stir in the butter and milk.

"Almost ready ma," I shout to her as she turns the tv up louder.

Once it's all mixed in, I pour it into a bowl, saving a little bit for me. I rushed over to her recliner.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"I'll be outside," I tell her. She ignored me.

Daniela anxiously walks up to me, "how is she, your mom?"

"She a lame excuse for a mother," I sigh.

"No offense," she exclaims, "but if she wants you to stay, she needs to get off her fat ass and do something with her life."

"None taken," I reply.

I grab her wrist and walk her down to the treehouse. She pulls her arm back.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," she rubs her arm.

Oh no, not her too. I climb up the ladder. I wait for her to climb up. She slowly trudged up. She was embarrassed she was caught.

"First time, huh?" I ask.

She nods slowly, with almost no movement. I pull up her sleeves. A few wimpy, fresh cuts line her arm.

"Daniela," I whine.

"I-," she stutters, "I'm sorry! I- I needed to relieve my emotions."

"I get it but-" I try to tell her.

"Please," she interrupts, "don't tell anybody."

I push her to the wall. My hand lightly pinning her. She took a deep breath in. I pull up my sleeves showing her mine.

"Listen to me, okay?" I demand, "I'm not mad. I know it's weird, but I'm proud you even are talking to me about it. I just want to know what thoughts are making you come to this point?"

"I don't know," she paused, "I guess I'm just worthless."

I lean in closer and whisper, "that's a lie."

She leans back against the board as I lean in close, almost touching her boobs. Her little sage green button down is coming undone. I can see her bra.

"You are the most beautiful, kind, worthy girl I've ever met."

She shows a shimmer of a smile.

"Just think about your mom," I whine, "she would be horrified."

"I have two confessions," She sighs, "One, I'm coming out as nonbianary."

I was about to go in for a hug or cheer or something, but she put her finger over my mouth.

"Two, I am deeply in love with Arden King."