I scribbled on my arm, and I scribbled on the back of my hand.

The marker ink stained. It'll always be there.

I can still see the words even after I washed my hands in the bathroom:

"No H8!
No H8!
No H8!
Let my mother marry!
Destroy Prop 8!
No H8!"

Before school I wrote the words in rainbow colors with my brother's markers on my left arm, the one closest to my heart.

All I could think about was the old folks in the big chairs and the black robes. The ones that are deciding my mother's future. My best friend's future. Laurie's future. Kyle's future. Victoria's future. Alfredo's future. Kirstie's future.

Maybe even my future.