Fan Fiction


Birds of Prey: Gabby and Dinah: Part 1

by Melissa Minners

Disclaimer and Other Information:  It should be noted that all of the characters and many of the locales in this fan fiction are not mine.  They are owned by The WB.  This fan fiction is somewhat of an homage to the series, though I have used a little liberty here with events.  The story takes place during the Birds of Prey television series and continues through my other fanfics which can be found here.  I hope you enjoy.

Chapter One

            This path that I have chosen isn’t easy.  Nothing worthwhile in this life ever is.  I listen to people discussing this lifestyle as if they know exactly what they are talking about; as if they know what it means to be gay.  They know nothing.  It’s a choice, they say, not something you’re born with.  Well, they’re right about one thing.  It has to do with choice alright.  A gay person chooses not to shun the feelings they’ve been born with; not to brush them aside like so much residue.  A gay person chooses to recognize their feelings for the same sex and refuses to brush them off as a phase.

            It started when I was young, though I suppose I really didn’t recognize it for what it was then.  Crushes on friends…on teachers…always female.  As I grew older I thought that I was just more attuned to members of my own sex.  That I was able to bond with females better; more intensely.  Those thoughts were toppled like so many building blocks the day I met Jasmine. 

            I was a freshman in New Gotham High School when she passed me in the hallway, a raven-haired beauty with legs a mile long.  I was mesmerized by her walk – one long, luscious leg gracefully placed in front of the other as she fairly glided down the hallway.  Something stirred inside me; something I’d felt before, but never with such intensity as in that moment.  I found myself following her; struggling to keep up as she expertly slipped past fellow classmates.  I was so caught up in the art of skillful dodging, that I hadn’t noticed she’d stopped…directly in front of me.  I crashed right into her, both of us toppling to the ground in a heap of notebooks, paper and pencils.           

            I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t even look at her as I mumbled an apology and attempted to retrieve my belongings with as much dignity as I could muster.  Then I tried to sneak away and fairly jumped at the electric touch of this mystery girl’s hand on my arm. 

            “I believe this one is yours,” she had said, handing me a history textbook. 

            In that moment, our eyes met and I was hooked.  She had amazing eyes – deep blue and mesmerizing.  The kind of eyes poets describe as limpid pools of blue.  I was so lost in those eyes – so beautiful, so inviting – that I completely missed the fact that she was still holding out the book.  She waved it in front of my face.  I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as she stood there giggling at my embarrassment. 

            And that is how my whirlwind affair with Jasmine had begun.  Having never been comfortable with guys, this relationship had been something that felt so right.  I never questioned it.  This was who I was.  All those who called it immoral just couldn’t understand. 

            It only lasted through freshman year though.  Jasmine’s father was in the military and they moved around quite a bit.  When the orders came through that they were to move to Texas, Jasmine broke the news with as little subtlety as when she had first asked me about my sexuality – “Hey, that test was killer, huh?  By the way, did you ever wonder what it might be like to kiss a girl?

            When Jasmine left, I was heartbroken.  My mom tried to get me to date a friend’s son.  That was a disaster.  Don’t get me wrong, he was drop-dead gorgeous and a great catch for some lucky heterosexual.  But alas, I didn’t fit that category.  Explaining my feelings to my mom was a lesson in futility.  She basically told me that all teenagers experiment and that this was just a phase I was going through.  Pretty long phase to be going through…some 16 years worth of phase.  That was a very long summer.

            But the following year brought a ray of sunshine into my life; a ray that blazed brightly enough to burn away the dreary clouds left behind by Jasmine’s departure.  That was when a timid blonde was asked to stand up in front of the class and tell us something interesting about herself.  Teachers sometimes forget just how awkward life was when they were our age.  They forget how hard it is to come to a new school in the middle of the year, without someone singling you out as “the new kid”.  Dinah looked like a doe caught in a pair of headlights.

            I felt so bad for her.  Ms. Wells wouldn’t let Dinah off the hook by just giving us her name.  There had to be more.  Dinah was so obviously reaching for something – anything – remotely interesting that would satisfy the teacher’s need to embarrass her.

            All eyes were on Dinah as she related the story of her home town and its claim to fame – Opal was the town that had first coined the term zipper.  A couple of the more popular girls giggled, but for the most part, the room was filled with complete and utter silence. 

            Dinah’s face glowed a bright shade of red as she returned to her seat.  She hunched down as if she could somehow make herself small enough to disappear.  Poor kid.  You could tell that she was shy, and by the reaction from the rest of the room, this little introduction was not going to win her any popularity points.

            The rest of the class, Dinah made every effort not to be noticed by the teacher.  I kept sneaking glances at her.  There was just something about her that called to me.  I don’t know how to explain it.  Maybe it was the “shy girl” thing that attracted me – I dunno.  All I knew was that she seemed like someone I ought to get to know.

            When class was over, Dinah made a beeline for the door, racing through without even a backwards glance.  I suppose she had been staring at the clock, willing the bell to ring signaling the end of class – the end of her painfully embarrassing moment.  By the time I got to the doorway, she was gone, almost as if she had disappeared into thin air.  She probably had been wishing for just that power after the zipper story. 

            Slowly, I headed to my next class, wondering if Dinah might be already cowering in a chair in some far corner of the classroom where she wouldn’t be noticed.  But alas, to my dismay, she was not.  I settled in for a predictably boring math class.

            Two hours passed before I saw her again.  Two hours of monotonous, sleepy-drool-inducing lectures.  When the bell rang signaling the beginning of the fourth period, I nearly jumped for joy.  Grabbing a table with a few friends, I settled down to the usual crappy lunch. 

            Nobody ever really enjoyed the food in the lunchroom, it was the ambiance – the cliques – that made the lunchroom really what it was: a hangout for the popular, the freaks, and geeks alike.  Everyone sat in little groups and discussed what was wrong or right about other little groups.  Who cared what our faults were so long as we weren’t like those dweebs over there.  Say what you will about us – every high school has always been like this, I don’t care how far back you go.

            So, I settled in for a discussion on the latest fashion faux pas, when I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye.  She stood there with her tray, trying to decide which table seemed the least frightening.  I was about to call her over when Val says, “Hey, Zipper Girl!”  Looking like she had been mortally wounded, Dinah hurried away.  I gave Val a good shot to the ribs with my elbow.  I was so totally pissed at her. 

            By the time I refocused my attention toward Dinah, she was gone; her untouched tray discarded atop an empty table.  Man, that girl could move.  I knew there would be no point in following, but I got up from the table and went to the door.  The hallway was empty with no sign that the shy blonde had ever passed through.  I sighed wondering if I’d see her in one of my classes later on in the day. 

            As the day progressed, I became resigned to the fact that I would have to try again tomorrow.  If there was a tomorrow anyway.  I don’t know why, but I had the impression that Dinah had been expecting more on her first day at New Gotham High.  More what?  I’m not sure.  But if it was acceptance…hell, this was high school.  Acceptance is hard won here.



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