Journal,

I stared intently at the words of the book I was holding unhealthily close to my face as I laid on top of my bed. I brought the book down closer to my eyes and watched the words slowly become blurry to the point that they were unreadable. I brought the book out farther away from my face and took note of the fact that the straining tension in my eyes seems to ease up and the words on the page became legible again. This was fascinating, truly.

"What are you reading?" Thomas asked. My eyes left my book and gazed onto Thomas. He was sitting awkwardly in the chair across the room from my bed. Marie-Claire had mentioned him before: the "musical wunderkind". Apparently, she'd found him playing on the corner of a street and was determined to get him an audition for Mt. Inglefield's music department. Marie-Claire had mentioned this a week ago and I had expected that this was the last I would ever hear of it. Instead, Marie-Claire had dragged me into town today to tell this Thomas character that she'd gotten him the audition for tomorrow. I didn't know what was more disgusting, the fact that Marie-Claire invited him back to school to prep him for his audition or the fact that he was so obviously hanging on every word she said like she was a goddess.

"Excuse me?" Thomas asked again, peering over to look at the title of the book I was reading. I blamed this awkward attempt at social interaction on Marie-Claire, who had decided that it would be a good idea for Thomas to sleep in my dorm room tonight.

"I heard you," I replied caustically, and continued reading.

"You don't seem like the friendliest person," Thomas said indignantly and crossed his arms across his chest. What was he, five?

"I'm a ray of fucking sunshine," I bit back.

Thomas rolled his eyes and looked around my dorm room uncomfortably for the next fifteen minutes. At this point in time, I had gotten bored of my book and set it aside. I guess it's time to find out what makes this Thomas character tick. I ran my hands through my hair and pushed it out of my eyes as I sat up on my bed and looked over in Thomas's direction.

"So how old are you, Heifetz?" I asked casually. I was glad that I'd payed enough attention in Music Theory class to be able to think of one famous violinists. Thomas, however, looked at my blankly. Why do I try with these people.

"Fifteen," he replied.

"And you want to fuck Marie-Claire?" I proposed, equally casually.

"What?" Thomas stammered, unable to say anything more for a good thirty seconds. "I just met her. I'm so happy she got me this audition," he blurted out quickly. "I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of her because that certainly wasn't my intention. I don't want to sleep with Marie-Claire, I just want to audition for this school."

I nodded like I was paying attention, but my interest had peaked at his vehement denial of wanting to bone Marie-Claire. "So do you not like girls then?"

"No, that's not what I meant!" he denied. "I'm not trying to sleep with anyone here."

"Okay, if you say so. Have you ever slept with anyone before?" I asked, putting on the pretense of someone that was truly fascinated; truly hung on his every answer.

"I don't think that has to do with anything," he replied, his self-confidence obviously wavering. "It certainly isn't any of your business."

Virgin.

"I'm just trying to get a feel for you a person," I shrugged nonchalantly.

Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but paused. He thought for a moment and finally spoke. "What does sex have to do with me as a person? If you want to know about me, as a person, you should know that I don't really care about sex. It may be the most important aspect of your life, but for me, everything is about my music. That's what you should know if you want to know anything at all about me."

How boring, I thought to myself. "Are you asexual?" I refused to let this topic drop.

"Isn't that when organisms reproduce on their own?," Thomas asked, looking utterly perplexed. It's good to see that he payed attention in 7th grade science, though. "Are you suggesting that I'm... a chronic masturbator or something?"

I snorted at the grimace of disgust that overlook Thomas. "That's not what asexual means."

Before I had time to speak again, Thomas seemed to catch on to my game. "Do you play any instruments?" he asked.

"Are you a chronic masturbator? You're the one that brought it up."

"You seem like the piano playing type of guy."

"What types of guys are you into?"

"I mean, everyone had to learn to play the recorder in elementary school you must know if you're at all musically inclined."

"Well, all I'm trying to do is figure out your... inclination."

"I already told you the extent of my opinion on the subject," Thomas replied, looking at me oddly. "You're a character, you know? What's your deal?"

"My deal?", I replied, trying to figure out what he was trying to do here. "I guess you could say I'm..." I looked up at Thomas as he looked down at me, patiently waiting for his response. I went through my mind, trying to find a word to sum me up. Hell, that would require knowing something about myself. Stopping to think over my character and motivation once and awhile. Why was I actually trying to answer this question?

"I guess you could say I'm a brave solider. Too precious for this world."

Thomas rolled his eyes and went back to looking at my walls like something interesting would magically appear. I laid back down on my bed and grabbed my book. What an interesting beginning.