Dear Simon,

Chapter Three

   Author's Note: I update every Sunday. 

     I find myself writing again. Even though it's just a composition book, it's filled with all of my thoughts from the past month. From questioning my sexuality to the angst of failing a Physical Science test. Something about putting my thoughts out into the world is kind of soothing, in a strange way. We ate dinner about an hour ago. Abreala stole the shower before I could use it, so now I'm just trying to pass time. My birthday is coming up next Tuesday. Mom wants me to invite my friends over and have a party, but I just want to hang at Barlow's and drink overpriced coffees and eat over-glazed doughnuts with my friends.

     I have to meet that Harry kid on Thursday too. I'm just as thrilled as he. I don't know what his problem is, but he's definitely not the friendliest kid in the school. I close my composition book and place it on my desk next to my laptop. I open my laptop and type my password. It's muscle memory. The first and only open tab is Tumblr. I don't know why I even use it sometimes. I type in the URL for Creeksecrets; I don't even know why. Gossip and rumors are oozing from every centimeter of the page. It's toxic like oil paint made from Arsenic. I can't stand the negativity and I don't even know why I looked it up. I could have wasted that time watching funny cat videos. My mom is allergic to animal hair so we can't have animals - especially not in the house. I close my laptop and turn to my bed. It would be nice to sleep right now but it's only eight and I still need to take a shower. Abreala is probably out of the shower by now. I gather my pajamas out of my dresser and a towel. 

     The restroom door is opened and the light is off. My family does this so that it's less confusing if someone is occupying or not. I turn on the light, shut the door and lock it, and begin to strip. Don't look down. I know that if I look down it will suck. Halfway through my shower, I hear Mom call me.

     "Sierra," I can't hear the rest, "blah blah blah."

     "I'll be right there, Mom!" So long to a good, long, hot shower. Thanks a lot. I dress and hurry down to the dining room. I stop on the last step. What the fuck? "What are you doing here? We're not supposed to meet until Thursday."

     "Well, I'm not too thrilled about being here either, Princess." Harry's arms fold over themselves. He looks kind of intimidating that way. "My dad wanted me to come early when he found out that I need tutoring."

     I see mom behind him with a stupid grin on her face. She probably thinks he's my boyfriend or something. Ew.

     "Alright then, let's go get this tutoring thing over so that I can get back to enjoying my night." I start walking upstairs only to turn and see him glued in place. "Are you coming?" I can feel my eyebrows scrunch up and my lips purse.

     "Oh, uh, yeah. I'm coming." It's like he's forcing himself off of that one dining room tile of which he stood perfectly on top. What's his deal? He follows me to my room and he grabs the doorknob.

     "No. Leave the door open."

     Harry raises his hands like he's been criminalized, "sorry."

     "Let's just get this over with," my eyes go to the back of my head as I grab my bookbag. I empty the contents one by one. Oh shit. I didn't hide my composition book. I grab it quickly and lock it in my desk drawer. We spend the next hour studying and going over algebraic formulas. We also make jokes now and then to reduce the awkwardness. He has a nice laugh. I look at my alarm clock. It's nine-thirty.

     "Let's wrap up for the night. It's getting late and your parents are probably missing you now." I hear him mumble something as he snatches his belongings and stuffs them into his bag. Aggressive much? We quietly move from my room and down the stairs. I see Claira standing in her doorway, eyes wide.

     "Oh my God." She starts chortling and her face is red.

     "Claira, it's not what you think. I'm just tutoring him for extra credit."

     "Okay," she's still giggling. I roll my eyes.

      I walk Harry to the door. "Goodnight."

     He nods and turns toward the street. There isn't an unfamiliar car in the driveway so I'm guessing it's down the street. That went well. I guess. I lock the door and quietly rush up the stairs. Claira is in my room and she's grinning. I feel my stomach jolt; shit.

     "Was that your boyfriend?" She doesn't know anything. I want to sigh from relief, but it will have to wait.

     I shake my head, "no. He's just a guy I'm tutoring for extra credit." She doesn't look like she believes me.

     "Okay." She prances out of my room beaming like she knows something but then she stops and turns around. "Goodnight, Sierra."

     "Goodnight, Claira."

                                                                                        (0.0)

   I wake up the next morning to my alarm clock screaming at me. I have to get out of bed to turn it off because I put it on my desk. I need an incentive to get out of bed in the morning. I change, brush my teeth, and grab my stuff. I don't want to be late for school. I have a History test today during third period. I study on the bus. It's difficult but not impossible.

     I get to school and eat breakfast. The bacon is soggy and the biscuit - if you can call it that - is just the bottom half of an English Muffin. I wipe my hands on my jeans. I'm nervous. Alisa sits next to me at the cafeteria table.

     "Hey," her teeth shine through her grin, "guess what?" I can tell she's excited. I pretend to be thinking really hard.

     "Mmmm," I furrow my eyebrows and put my hand on my chin, "what?"

     Her grin widens. "Remember me telling you that I like Aaron Saphline in my History class?" It sounds familiar, so I nod as a signal for her to continue. She does, "Well, he asked me on a date!"

     "That's awesome! I'm so happy for you!" I hug her but only for a second. She smells like peppermint and she's warm like a nice pillow. Alisa is beaming with excitement.

     "We're going to a party this Friday night. It's gonna be amazing."

     "I believe it." I want to tell her. I want to tell her I'm bisexual. I want to tell her that I'm trans. I can't though; I'm a coward. "I hope that you two have a lot of fun - not too much fun though. Abstinence is the only one hundred percent effective protection against teen pregnancy."

     She rolls her blue eyes, "We're not having sex. It's just a party."

     "Alright," I somewhat believe her.