Thick ropey braids, slithering like snakes down her back. Simmering red lips, waiting to be cooled. A small flexible nose, contorting with each facial expression, not really ever in a resting state. These little details graffitied the thought space in Karen’s mind, painting on top of one another until only one clear idea remained the winning mural.
What color did purple and red make? 
The thought rapidly bloomed in Karen’s mind. She thought hard about it, like it was the enigma of a sphinx who was eager to gobble her up. The question seemed so arbitrary, so pointless, so obvious, so stupid. But she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know.
She wanted to know what would happen if her bloated purple lips met Kate’s simmering red ones. What would it look it like, the purple and red together? Would the purple and the red lipsticks end up a masterpiece, melding and fusing, smearing and sliding like one big artists’ palette being blended forever? Or would the colors become violent, layering each other to form the special hue that comes after a stinging slap follows a bruise.
Another idea flickered. What flavor would it be? Perhaps like licorice or lollipops or hard candy, delightful and juicy, playful and fun. The purple and the red lips tasting each other, old flavors and new being consumed by their ravenous mouths.
That was how Karen envisioned kissing Kate Lowe. A flashy Goth girl and a popular preppy girl softly nibbling-better yet furiously biting each other’s lips feeding off one another’s reactions and emotions. A melding of people, flavors and colors until something new was formed.
Karen desired a girl who she was sure she would never have. She was pining for a girl who was the antithesis of her: pretty, white, preppy, popular and of course straight.
Still these things never stopped Karen from admiring Kate’s hypnotizing curves and mile long legs. It didn’t prevent her from needing to untie those long ropey braids Kate did her hair up into and run her hands through the waves. And it never kept her from wanting to cool Kate’s simmering lips.
What color did purple and red make?
Were they a perfect fit, beautifully joining to create a vibrant hue that put all the other colors to shame? Or were they just an ugly pairing, two sides of the spectrum that should have never rightfully joined?
Who knows? Who knew?
What color did purple and red make?
What color did red and purple make?
What color? Which color?
Show me! Karen silently screamed. She needed to know. She desired to know. She had to know. But there was only one person in the world that held the answer.
That person sat in front of Karen each morning in Chemistry class. Sat there being popular and pretty, tempting and indifferent to a black girl’s struggles with love and lust.
Karen sat there also, being shy and moody, uninflicting and hyper aware of Kate’s movements, torturing herself day in and day out with her thoughts.
But there were some days like today where Karen would gather up her strength and muster up her courage and try to change the circumstances. Sometimes she would nervously ask for a pencil or cautiously offer up a smile. Today, she vowed to do something bolder. She was tired of sitting back in agony, starting up a girl who held everything between her fingers including Karen’s heart. She wanted answers, needed answers and needed change.
So in her looping scrawl she wrote on a torn off scrap of notebook paper and folded it carefully. Then when the bell rung ending the class, Karen ran by Kate. She shoved the note into the girl’s palm and left her to wonder what color purple and red made.