Dear Simon,

Chapter Eight

    Forewarning: This chapter contains extremely strong language (curse words) and mentions of abuse. If you are ever in a situation of abuse (or anything similar), please confide in a person who can help pull you out of that situation. Remember: you're loved, you're valid, and you matter. Stay safe.

     Abreala treads down the stairs while rubbing her left eye. "Is that bacon I smell?"

     "Yup," I pop the P in yup. Harry flips a pancake while I scramble some eggs. "There's enough for everyone. It's bacon, eggs, pancakes, sliced apples - courtesy of Sierra - and toast."

     Claira is racing down the stairs, "Bacon? Do I smell bacon?" She's like a hound dog but only for food.

     "Yes, there's bacon." I get out four plates and start plating food. Mom is at work so I don't make her a plate. After all of our plates are made, we make our way to the dining room table. We almost look like a family, in a weird sort of way.

     The first few minutes of breakfast are silent. Claira then lays her fork on her plate slowly and looks to Abreala. Abreala nods.

     "Uh," she bites her lip. She does that when she's nervous. "Sierra, I have something I need to tell you."

     "Is everything okay?"

     Claira nods, "I, uh, I like girls."

     "Yeah?"

     "I like only girls." She sighs. It's like she's finally breathing for the first time.

     I take her hand in mine and squeeze it lightly. "There's nothing wrong with that. I love you and this changes absolutely nothing between us."

     Claira starts blinking really quickly and her face goes red. She looks down. "Thank you," her voice is trembling, "I really needed to hear that."

     "Oh please don't cry, Claira. It's okay!"

     "I'm not crying because I'm sad." She looks at me. She's grinning and she has tears in her eyes. "I'm crying because I'm happy."

      I look at Abreala as if to ask 'does Mom know?'

      She shakes her head.

  

                                                                                                     (0.0)

     After breakfast, Harry and I go back to my room and we study.

     "Are you still gonna out me if you fail?" All of the oxygen leaves the room."

     "I - I don't know." He flips a page in his Algebra book. "I don't want to but I need a reason to pass. You'll never understand."

     "I can't understand unless you let me."

     "I don't want you to understand!" He explodes like a volcano and then goes back to quiet. "Let's - let's just study."

     "No! I'm sick of you treating me like I'm a goddamned teacher!" I slam my Algebra book closed. "You practically live at my house and you don't leave until the sky is black. There's never a car to pick you up and you never tell me why the hell you always have bruises all over you! I can't help you if you won't let me!"

     He jumps to a standing position. "You really want to understand? Maybe if you lived in my fucking house and got slammed around like I do, you'd know why the fuck I don't want to be home all the damned time." Harry's voice cracks. His face is red and tears are streaming down his cheeks.

     I do the only thing I could think to do. I stand up and I wrap my arms around him. I feel him tense and it's like everything he's been holding in crashes out. He collapses to the floor and I could tell he's gritting his teeth. I sit with him and I hold him. He really needs this.

     "I don't want to go home, Sierra. I - I can't go home."

     "I'll see if you could spend the night." I search his watery eyes. "I know it's not a permanent relief, but maybe we can figure out what to do next."

     Harry nods.

     We spend the next hour watching whatever the hell is on TV because we both need a break from schoolwork. My mind is too heavy to pay attention to anything. I'm laying on my bed with my ankle resting on my knee. Harry is on my floor with a pillow. He said he was happier with the carpet and I didn't object.

     "Sierra, Abreala, Claira, I'm home!" Mom called out to us.

     I stand and look at Harry. He looks like a zombie. "I'll be right back."

     He nods.

     I trek down the stairs. My guts are wrenching. Mom is taking off her Autumn jacket.

     "Hey, Mom, can't I talk to you?"

     "Is everything okay, hun?"

     I shake my head. "Can Harry stay here for a while?"

     She pauses. I feel sick but in the 'I feel like I'm going to cry' way.

     "Is he okay?" She's scanning my face.

     I break. My face is hot. My eyes are burning. My vision is blurring. "No, Mom, he needs help - at home."

     Mom pulls me into a hug and I feel her nod. "He can stay for as long as he needs. He sleeps in the guest room though. Curfew is at nine-thirty. Now," she wipes my eye and clears my vision, "I need to make some calls and get dinner started. Go tell Harry what I've told you."

     I nod. I rush up the stairs and to the left. My bedroom door is open - just how I left it. Harry is still on my floor but now he's looking up at me. His face is unreadable.

     "Mom said that you can stay for however long you need to but you have to sleep in the guest room and we have a curfew at nine-thirty."

     "Thanks," he breathes out a shaking breath.

     "Of course," I nod. I look at the TV. Steven Universe is playing. Pearl is singing a ballad and dancing in a suit. I bite my lip. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why he, uh, does it?"

Harry lets out a sigh. "I can't say for sure, but I think it's related to losing his parents and my mom all at once. She was bringing them home from the airport and a drunk driver hit them. Mom was hit and died instantly. My grandparents died in the hospital that same night. I remember him drinking excessively after that."

     The silence rings in my ears like a school bell.

     "Harry?"

     "Yeah?"

     "I'm sorry."

     "Me too."

     After Steven Universe ends, we study a little. We don't get very much done though. The air is too heavy to focus.