“One of the good ones!” I called after him.
I opened my notebook back up to the lyrics I’d been writing, but it was too late. The inspiration was gone. If I tried to write a song right now, it’d be about rabbits, dinosaurs, and Halloween candy. Almost as good as monsters in trees. I’d have to try again later.
“Monsters in trees,” I said to Isabel the next morning when I saw her by our lockers.
“What?”
“That’s what I thought about before going to bed last night. Are we doing this or not?”
She clapped her hands, then bit her lip in thought.
I laughed. “Gabriel, right?”
“Shhh. There was something after that. I’m trying to remember. Oh! Nutella crepes.”
“Now I’m hungry.”
“And I’m confused,” Isabel said, shutting her locker. “Monsters in trees?”
“Fake song idea. But I actually started a real song, one I’ll read to you when I’m done.”
“I’d like that.”
“This is going to be a fun tradition.”
She laughed. “It is. I feel our friendship getting cuter already.”
I may have started the morning tradition with Isabel because I felt guilty about how excited I was to read this letter. The letter that I had retrieved from beneath my desk in Chemistry and was now unfolded on top of my desk.
Track 8 on Blackout’s Blue album? I haven’t listened to that one yet. I only have their first album. And even though it goes against my reverse psychology theory of how I handle life, if you think it’s good, I’ll try it out. Any other bands I should add to my “shutting out the world” playlist? I could use some of that to deal with my life right now. Does that make me sound pathetic? I’m not, most of the time. I’m actually a pretty fun guy when not at home.
Guy? I blinked. My pen pal was a he? My eyes went back to the notes written on the desk—to the line that had made me think he was a girl. It was still there. His claim that he had dibs on wanting to be Lyssa when he grew up. So it had been a joke? He liked to joke.
He was a guy. A guy who liked the same music as me and was bored in Chemistry and had a sense of humor. We were soul mates. I smiled a little, then shook my head. The guy was bored and was writing me letters to pass time. He wasn’t asking me out or anything.
I realized my brain had stopped mid-letter. I read the rest.
So what should we chat about that’s not so depressing? I’m open to suggestions. Perhaps one of the following topics: Death, cancer, global warming (or is it climate change now?), animal cruelty …
I turned over the page, but that was the end. We’d filled up an entire page with our back and forth communication. Which meant I got to keep this page. I folded it nicely and stuck it in my bag.
I stared at the new, clean sheet in front of me, and then wrote:
How about we discuss the fact that you’re a guy. Let’s get married and have cute Indie Rock babies.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing and dropped that sheet of paper in my backpack by my feet. I wasn’t even going to mention the fact that he was a he. I was going to pretend I knew all along. Because it changed nothing.
I finally got a chance in the chaos that is my house to listen to The Crooked Brookes. Brilliant. Track 4. I must’ve listened to that one five times in a row. I wasn’t sure I could trust your taste in music before, but you have now proven yourself. I will listen to anything you suggest. I’ll include a list of my favorites at the bottom of this page. Do you play any instruments? I’m a self-taught not-very-good-but-thinks-she-is guitarist. Okay, you’ve convinced me, we can start a band together. Unless you play the guitar, too. Sorry, but I won’t fight you for solo time.
I re-read what I wrote three times. It was me, but I wasn’t sure I should be me. I didn’t have the best track record with guys. But at least on paper he could read it in a smooth, confident voice, not in the way I would’ve delivered it in person: awkwardly.
It didn’t matter. Why was I suddenly worried about how he would perceive me? I wished I hadn’t found out he was a guy. This had been fun until I learned that piece of information. I had actually been looking forward to Chemistry for the last week. Something that had never happened before. And I would continue to look forward to it. We still had anonymity on our side.
I opened another drawer of my dresser and flung several shirts onto my bed.
Where is it? I wondered in frustration.
I was the organized one in this room. I didn’t misplace my favorite shirt. Especially when I saved it specifically for nights like tonight—nights where I’d be hanging out with Isabel, her boyfriend, and a bunch of his friends I didn’t know.
I pulled the dirty laundry basket out of my closet and dumped it on the floor, then sifted through the pile of clothes. When I came up empty, I let out a growl. That’s when I spotted my sister’s laundry basket on the other side of the closet. I stormed over to it and after shifting a few clothes, found my favorite green shirt. I held it up. It was wrinkled and had a big dark stain on the right side.
“Ashley!” Anger made my eyes hot. I tore out of the room, taking my shirt and my anger with me.
Ashley was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of ice cream. Her eyes went wide when she saw me. “What?”
“This!” I held the shirt for her to see.
“I was going to wash it.”
“Why were you wearing it? You didn’t even ask. It probably doesn’t even fit you right, anyway.” Ashley was much taller than me.