Overcast | ✓

Last Semester

Elio Davidson. Semester 1.

October 16. 10:10 AM

I am not what you may consider to be a normal teenage boy. I have never tried out for sports or dated a girl or used words like "dude" and "bro". My entire class is aware that I am sort of an outsider, but they have never seemed to mind. I still get on well with my teachers. I still have a lot of friends. And, I still have one remarkable boyfriend. If you can call him that.

Marcos Smith and I do not tell people that we are together. We do not go out on dates or hold hands in the hallways. We do, however, meet up every passing period in the library to talk or kiss or simply sit beside each other silently. It has been this way for months now and neither of us minds at all. 

Today, as I wind down the usual aisle of books we meet at, Marcos is nowhere to be found. "Hello?" I whisper, and there is no response. So, I sit with my back against a shelf and wait there for a very long time. Marcos never misses a break. I am beginning to worry. I pull out my phone and quickly turn to his contact.

(10:12 AM) Me: is everything alright?

No response.

(10:13 AM) Me: are you out sick today?

Again, no response. I wait for another minute but it is obvious that he isn't coming, so I sling my backpack over a shoulder and stand. Just as I'm beginning to leave, Marcos runs in. His black hair is slightly messy, its waves flying in defiant bunches, and his uniform is a bit askew.

"Sorry!" he whisper-screams. "I, like, literally woke up 15 minutes ago. My alarm didn't go off."

I chuckle and approach him, combing my fingers through his hair and straightening his tie. "There. Much better."

"What would I do without you," he gushes and presses his hands to his chest. I roll my eyes and laugh. He is such an idiot.

"Good morning," I say after a beat.

"Good morning," Marcos grins.

"So, I was chatting with Emmy Grande last period and apparently there's this anonymous school blog now. Like, to 'expose students' or something."

"That's so dumb," he says and collapses onto the floor, extending a hand up to me. "Do you have any wild secrets that may get out? Any dark past I should know about?"

"Yes, actually. I am a spy sent to this school in order to destroy you. You've caught me."

"Aw, I should've known. There's no way someone as cute as you would actually fall for me," Marcos smiles, and I attempt to hide my grin. "It was all an act."

I sit beside him and interlock our fingers. "Actually, you're my only secret."

"You must be a very honest person then."

"I am," I say, but we both know that is a lie. I've never told anyone what I think about as I lie in bed. I've never told anyone about what I have hidden inside drawers and under rugs. Marcos is the only person who knows the way my head works. How it spirals and melts into paint, splattering over my arms and wrists. I am coated in turmoil that only he sees. That only I let him see. I am a mystery to everyone but him.

"You're my only secret, too," Marcos replies. And I believe him

***

October 18. 8:30 AM.

I think my older sister is my best friend. This isn't because I don't have other options or anything. I have plenty of friends at school and I'm regularly invited to hang out outside of class with them. But, Sunny Davidson is different than most people you'll meet. She seems almost like a spectator to the world around her, as if she is completely detached from everyone else. She is quiet and observant and honest and my favorite person to talk to. Ever. But, even she doesn't know about Marcos. I guess she learns today, though. I guess everyone does.