Dear Simon,

Chapter Two

     Forewarning: this chapter contains homophobic language and curse words. If this makes you highly uncomfortable I recommend you not read this.

It's been a month since school started. I check my phone for notifications when I remember the Creeksecrets Tumblr. What's so great about it anyway? I start scrolling. So far it's just the average This-Person-Slept-With-That-Person and Why-Won't-Anyone-Date-Me posts. Nothing unusual until I find myself reading an article about how a guy named Simon Speir inspired the poster to come out as gay to their family. I open my Gmail but then stop. Is there even a way to describe the way I feel? Who I am? I close the tab but linger on a new open tab. How would I describe it?

     I take a sip of water. The cup was on my desk after dinner. I start typing into the search bar. Why do I feel like I should have been born a boy? No. Scratch that. I backspace everything. Uh. Am I in the wrong body? I pause. My chest hurts. I didn't realize that I was holding my breath. I hit enter and my stomach jolts. Thousands of results pop up. The commonplace word is Transgender. I begin reading. The word fits perfectly but it scares me at the same time.

     If God doesn't make mistakes then why was I born a girl? Am I going to Hell for being transgender? I read more articles. The next thing I hear is my alarm clock beeping. No way. There is no way I stayed up all night reading about being transgender. The clock doesn't lie. It's six in the morning. I put my phone down, grab some clothes, and make my way to the restroom. I strip yesterday's and turn the shower nob. The water changes from ice to steam. The water burns my back and I won't look down. No. I can't look down. Claira's urgent voice vibrates through the door. "Sierra, hurry up; I need to get in there! Other people exist too!"

     I hurry and dress so that I'm not tempted to look down. The weight of my bookbag pulls me down when I reach for it. I have to go wait for the bus with Claira and Abreala. A girl walks up to me. Her hair is straight and shiny. Her loose-fitting jeans and neon pink tank top complement her features well. Her name is Alisa. She's the definition of a cool kid.

     "Hey, Sierra," The gap in her front two teeth shows through her lips. "What'd you make on your Algebra test?"

     "I forgot, but it was probably a good grade." My shoulders rise momentarily. The bus pulls to the bus stop and we begin our journey. The bus is usually quiet in the mornings but today is different. It's the first day of Homecoming Week and it's Neon Day. The air is buzzing with excitement.

     "Yo, loser! Get out of my seat!"

     "I was here first!"

     My stomach jolts. There are two boys in the back arguing over a seat. I don't understand why. The seats are all equally uncomfortable. I put in my earbuds and drown them out. After a forty-five-minute bus ride, the bus pulls into the bus parking lane to let us out. My first intention is to go to my locker and put some of my binders in there. Speaking of binders, I recently learned that some people use shirt-like clothes to flatten their chests. Those are also called binders. I want some. Two football players are standing near my locker gossiping.

     "Hey, did you hear about Jared Nestor and Caiden Greene?"

     "No. What happened?"

     "They were caught making out behind the bleachers."

      I rolled my eyes. Creekwood thirsts for drama.

     "No way; I had no idea he was a faggot."

      Something in me stirred. I close my locker harder than intended. I'm pretty sure I scare them because I see them jump in my peripherals. Fuck it. I shoulder past them and hurry to Literature. I don't have the energy for that shit. I've spent the last month learning more about the LGBTQ community. I'm really sure I like girls and I like guys. How the hell am I ever gonna tell anyone let alone my family that I'm a bisexual transgender male? Even the thought of disclosing that to anyone makes me want to throw up.

     I don't even notice that I'm at my desk until Alonzo Cadenas is kneeling in front of me waving his hand in my face, "Hey, Sierra, is everything okay?"

     My face is hot. "Oh- oh yeah. I'm fine. What were you saying?"

     He sighs, "I was saying: I want to do a homecoming proposal for Jackie. So tell me: should I make a banner and buy a bear or make a banner and buy roses?"

     "Why not both?"

     "Absolutely perfect! You're so right!" He shot up from the floor and pranced to his desk. I felt my lips lift on one side.

     Classes go by quickly. I don't remember any of the lectures. I'm too busy thinking about those assholes from this morning. Why do people have to hate someone just for liking the same gender? Is that going to happen to me when I come out? Do I want to come out? I look around. I'm in the cafeteria. I don't even remember walking here or anything. What the hell? I breathe in and finish my poorly cooked hamburger. The fries are greasy and stale-like if that's even possible.

     My Fifth period is Algebra. I'm fairly good at math and I actually kind of enjoy it. The class drones on until it ends. Mr. Harrison stops me from walking out the door. One other student remains. "Ms. Marrows, you're one of the most promising students in my class this year." He gestures to the boy on his right, "this is Harry Walters. He needs a tutor. If you can tutor him I can give you ten bonus points per test that Harry passes."

     I need as high of a grade I can get. Scholarships are very important. I nod. "Yes, sir. I can tutor him." I examine Harry. He has messy blond hair that covers his face a little. His eyes are a cold turquoise and his jaw is a sharp square. He towers over me by at least afoot. He's at least six feet tall maybe? "Are you doing anything on Thursday?"

     "Not anymore," his eyes are like daggers towards Mr. Harrison. We start our exit from the classroom with passes supplied by Mr. Harrison.

     "Do you want to meet at Barlow's on Thursday at five then?" Barlow's is a warm coffee shop across from the mall.

     "I don't have a choice."

     Okay then. I guess I'm tutoring Mr. Angry for the rest of the semester.