Well this won’t make it to the autobiography.

I opened the door to my dorm room and sighed. I’d spent the afternoon helping Marie-Claire with her French project and it was amazing. I closed my eyes and laid down on my bed. The picture of Marie-Claire’s smile was burned on the back of my eyelids.

Pushing the image from my mind, I mentally reviewed the day. Oliver kept on glancing between Xavier, for the sole reason that Xavier’s... gorgeous, and Genevieve, because she had been oddly distant for a couple days now. Should I be worried about her? I hadn’t known her for that long, but she’d always been very friendly. But, you know, people have those days. I guess the best thing is to wait and see.

My mind flicked back to Marie-Claire. The way her hair fell down her back and she looked like a screen goddess. The way she closed her eyes and smiled when I played for her. How her bright green eyes lit up brighter whenever she saw Xavier.

Unconsciously, I realized I’d been rubbing my inner thigh. Now that I realized what I was doing, I wondered if I should stop. I mean, most guys do it. It’s totally normal, right? Just because I’m not most guys didn’t mean it wouldn’t be completely normal for me to, right? I sighed and tested it out. I rubbed closer to my groin. The groan that escaped my lips, completely uncontrollable by me, startled me and both of my hands flew out from under the covers and towards my head. That was odd.

Xavier, I mused to myself. I’d never met someone quite like him. There was a very innocent side to him, even if he would deny it. He was like Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He didn’t really intend to hurt anyone, he was just... michevious. However, Xavier had another side. The type of side that burns down schools for the sole reason of wanting to destroy something. I couldn’t really figure out where the line between the two sides were.

In the back of my mind, I heard my zipper unzip, but I ignored it. Over thinking this wouldn’t help.

Back to Marie-Claire. Marie-Claire, who changed my life. Marie-Claire, who probably saved me from a life of being a hobo. I would owe her everything. I started moving my hand up and down rhythmically as I desperately tried to keep my thoughts focused. What was I supposed to think about? What did guys normally think about? Marie-Claire, naked? Marie-Claire in a bikini?

I imagined how Marie-Claire would look at the beach. Images flickered through my mind like an old family movie- Marie-Claire smiling in the sand, Marie-Claire running into the ocean, Marie-Claire splashing the camera. Xavier would be with her no doubt. Probably frowning at the sunlight and shagging the Pamela Anderson-esque lifeguard against the bathhouse as he air high-fived to Marie-Claire, who would pretend not to notice.

Xavier had shown up at Marie-Claire’s dorm room to “help” her with her French project too, which in his world means to lay on her bed reading and making dirty comment every once and awhile. He had come into her room, freshly showered. “Guess who I was just shagging?” he exclaimed like an excited kid. “Genevieve’s roommate, Alice.”

“Ah,” Marie-Claire nodded. “I saw her staring at you yesterday and figured it was just a matter of time.”

“Has anyone noticed that Genevieve’s a bit out of it?” Xavier mused and I nodded. Xavier smiled down at me and yawned, reaching his fingers up into the air like a cat. His shirt rode up on his stomach and I took notice of line between his abs and his pelvic bone. I think they call that muscle the pelvic thruster, or something? That sounds vaguely inappropriate. Xavier opened his eyes and saw me looking up at him. An amused smirk spread across his face. “Yes, just a matter of time.”

I think at this point it had fully reached my consciousness that I was jacking off to a guy. Not any guy either, him. He, who was annoying and stubborn and could never get his mind out of the gutter. This thought didn’t revolt me enough to stop. Honestly, I don’t think I could have.

Xavier was kissing me, working his way down my stomach, undoing my belt buckle. I concentrated on replacing Xavier with someone else. Marie-Claire faded from my mind as soon as I thought of her. Another guy, maybe? I mean, I know I’m not attracted to all guys. I’m not worried about suddenly discovering that I’m gay, because that’s ridiculous. I replaced Xavier in my mind with Oliver.

The groan that escaped my lips confirmed that it didn’t make much of a difference.

Suddenly, and horrifying, the door to my dorm room opened.

“Hey,” Xavier said nonchalantly, entering my dorm room uninvited. My hand shot out from underneath the covers in a split second, but not before recognition crept on Xavier’s face.

“Whatever you think you saw,” I huffed, “you didn’t.”

“Thomas “I’m not concerned with sex”- jacking off? Well, this makes my day,” Xavier chuckled.

“Shuttup,” I blushed and looked up at the ceiling, silently cursing God. “So... why are you here?”

Xavier looked at me like he was in a trance, the amused grin on his face never falling. “What was that?”

“Why’d you come here?” I asked, willing my boner to... deflate.

“Olivia and Marie-Claire wanted to go down to the cafeteria to get dinner,” he explained.

“Okay,” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’ll get pants on and we can go.”

“Ummm, not like that,” Xavier said, his eyes staring directly at my crotch.

“It will go away, won’t it?” I murmured, feeling like the stupidest person alive.

“It’s not like you’ve never done this,” Xavier snorted. I stared at him blankly and realization finally washed over him. “Oh my god.” I nodded. “Marie-Claire must have really got you worked up.”

I collapsed back in my bed and covered my face with my hands. “Tell them I died,” I groaned.

“I can help you out,” Xavier shrugged and stepped closer. When I realized what he was talking about, my mouth fell open.

“No,” I shot back. “No, no. No thanks.”

“Come on,” Xavier smirked.

“I’m good,” I squeaked out. If only I could crawl under my covers and disappear. If I can’t see him, he can’t see me.

Without saying anything further, Xavier sat down on my bed and slipped his hand under my waistband. I lurched backward and hit the backboard. Xavier started moving his hand and stared directly at me. I bit my lip and felt my stomach drop. Only a minute later, I closed my eyes and gasped and the horrific ordeal was finally over.

“Jesus,” Xavier said, wiping his hand over on my shirt. “Go shower.”

“Xavier...”

“We don’t have to tell Marie-Claire,” he shrugged.

So I went to the shower, eager to wash off any remaining traces of cum and my dignity.

Superboy and the Invisible Girl

Superboy and the Invisible Girl

Son of Steel and Daughter of Air
He's a hero, a lover, a prince
She's not there
Dear Diary,

I used my hand to block the intense sunlight from my eyes as I scanned the picnic area for Xavier. He said he’d meet me here yesterday, but it wasn’t the first occasion he had decided that someone else was more worth his time. I heard a twig snap above my head, so I looked up. Lying precariously on one of the upper tree branches of the old oak was Xavier. Book in hand, he was tuning out the entire world. Breeze got his hair and blew it in front of his eyes, so he blew it out of the way. He looked so peaceful. He looked... godly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone coming up on my left. I turned and smiled at Thomas, but he took no notice. His eyes were glued directly on Xavier. I turned around and I noticed that this was a trend. Olivia, Charles, Artemis, Oliver, Melody, even Alice, they were all gawking at Xavier.

“Bloody hell, you guys are pathetic!” I exclaimed and clenched my fists.

“What?” Thomas said, snapping to attention. I sighed and shook my head, running back to my dormitory.

What Xavier had said about Thomas liking guys ran through my head. I resisted the urge to just scream “But you’re supposed to like me, god-dammit! Not him! Everybody loves him.” I know it’s petty, and I don’t even know if Thomas likes me, but I just wanted somebody to not fall for him.

If you were friends with Xavier Beckingham, you’d understand. Even the people who find him to be a disgusting person would sleep with him. Meanwhile, I’ve taken the role of “side kick”. I’ve become a stock character. I’ve faded away into him.

I closed the door of my dorm room and collapsed on the ground. I grabbed the bag of Twizzler’s from under my bed. A remnant from the eating disorder days. I finished off the entire bag in less than five minutes and wrapped my arms around my knees. I felt sugar coursing through my veins. It didn’t feel good, per say. But it felt... familiar.

I heard a knock on my door and let out a sob. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d been crying. Standing up, I brushed myself off and answered the door.

“I told you to meet me in the picnic area,” Xavier huffed moodily and entered into my room.

“Fuck you,” I shot back.

“Please,” he sneered and turned to face me. The sneer fell off his face and, for a second, he looked like he was genuinely concerned. “Are you okay?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me.

“Don’t touch me.” However, I made not move to push him away.

“What’s wrong, bug?” he whispered into my ear.

“You! You’re what’s wrong”, I exclaimed half-heartedly. “I don’t want you in my life anymore. I want someone to look at me for a change when we walk into a room.” I buried my face in Xavier’s shirt.

“I look at you,” he offered and hugged me tighter. “And I think I’d die if you left me.”

“No,” I whispered. “You wouldn’t.”

“Is this Thomas?” Xavier suddenly exclaimed angrily. “Do you want to go off and be his perfect, little girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “Good,” Xavier mumbled. “Promise me you won’t leave me to rot here?”

“What?” I asked, suddenly confused by the direction this conversation was taking.

Xavier let me go and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was clearly uncomfortable. “Are we a “we”? Because I think we are. I think we’re an “us.” I mean, obviously we’re not a very good “us”, because I still fuck anything that moves.”

“And I’m okay with that,” I reminded him.

“And if you liked Thomas you could go out with him,” he assured me. “But I still want to be an “us”. An open “us”, but an “us” no less.”

“We can be whatever pronoun you want us to be,” I laughed. “I think that might be the first relationship talk you’ve ever had to have.”

“Does “Don’t call me, I’ll call you” count as a relationship talk?” Xavier smirked.

I smiled to myself. I know that my original point wasn’t even discussed, Diary, but... He needs me. He cares about me. And none of those other people can say that. So maybe everybody loves him and I fade into the background. The people I need to care about me care.

Just get out and stay out

I stared at the overhead in Math class thoughtlessly. The overhead light shone directly into my eyes, causing my vision to fill with circles of light. In the background, I could hear the substitute teacher telling us about the conjugates of imaginary number. “Wohwoh woh woh woh”. Like the teacher in Peanuts, it all eventually faded to unrecognizable sound. I think I would have gone into a mental coma had I not noticed something worth my interest in my peripheral vision.

Thomas was talking to Charles. Charles, who had fallen off the face of the earth, who had found Jesus and was walking around like he was a living example of how the Lord can help you overcome temptation. Charles, who was handing a flyer over to Thomas.

The bell rang, dismissing us to lunch. I grabbed my bag and leapt up out of my seat and over to Thomas.

“What’s that?” I asked nonchalantly, ripping the flyer from Thomas’s fingers.

“Oh, Charles invited me to go to his church’s youth group tonight,” Thomas answered, looking up at me with confusion, but that same stupid look of earnest that shone from his eyes. He was so naive.

“Charles invited me to go to his church’s youth group,” I mimicked and shuddered.

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

“Oh, I’m dandy,” I replied sardonically. “But Marie-Claire wanted you to come over to her dorm room tonight. Something about old movies. She’d be so disappointed....”

Thomas’s eyes lit up brightly and he cut me off. “I’m sure Charles won’t be too offended if I don’t show up.”

“That a boy,” I murmured, patting him on the back. Of course, if there was one thing Thomas would choose over being polite and sociable, it was Marie-Claire. However, this didn’t address the Charles problem. That would fall to me.

After school let out for the day, I headed back to my dorm room. It was an odd sensation, since I usually only headed there with someone else and lately I’d just been going to Marie-Claire’s dorm room. I went inside and blanched at the sight. My entire bookcase had been overturned. When had that happened?

“Oh,” I murmured, smirking to myself. “Suzsana Dickerson.”

I grabbed a thin black shirt off the floor and sniffed it. Clean enough. I took off my uniform and pulled the shirt on over my head. I stared at the mirror for a moment before heading over to Charles’s dorm. At the moment, I had no intention of seducing with him, but looking nice around a deeply closeted gay boy had to help.

“Hello?” Charles said as he opened his door. When his eyes fell upon me, his lopsided smile turned to a blank look of disapproval.

“Long time, no see,” I exclaimed. His blank expression didn’t change. “We need to discuss some things.”

“No,” Charles replied, grabbing the doorknob. “We really don’t.” Just before he could pull the door closed, I slipped inside his dorm room.

“I don’t bug you a lot, do I?” I said, resting my hands on the top of my head. “I could. I could ruin you, frankly. But you decided to turn to Jesus or whatever, and I’m not going to waste my time wondering whether your “really” happy or just farther back in the closet. No offense.”

“Your point?” Charles said, crossing his arms across his chest. The boy has nice arms, I mused to myself.

“What?” I murmured, staring at his biceps. “Oh yes, I had a point. Don’t fuck with Thomas. He’s not going to join your cult.”

“What?” Charles sputtered.

“I mean, not to be conceited or anything, but the only reason that you’re even talking to him is that he associates with me and this makes you “fear for his soul” or whatever.”

“No,” Charles denied vehemently. “No, that’s not it at all. It’s just that I thought he might want to come.”

“Your church isn’t touching him,” I said. “I mean, does your church even know why you had your little spiritual awakening?”

“What?” I heard a voice say behind Charles. Artemis, who was simply wearing a towel, came out of Charles’s bathroom. “Beckingham,” Artemis stated coldly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the very same...” I launched into.

“We were discussing our church,” Charles cut in and glared at me. Artemis laughed.

“You didn’t invite him to Youth Group, did you?” Artemis asked Charles. Charles simply shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “Good, you’re not welcome.”

“And why the hell not?” I exclaimed, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Because God hates fags,” Artemis stated and glared at me.

“...And the French,” Charles added, trying to lighten up the situation. Artemis and I both stared at him blankly.

“The French?” Artemis asked.

“I mean, everybody hates the French,” he shrugged.

“Wasn’t Genevieve french?” I asked. Artemis laughed and Charles turned red.

“Well, I guess Genevieve won’t come either,” I said. “I’m sure you were used to that when you guys went out.”

Artemis looked at Charles quizzically and I turned to leave. When I got to the door, I turned around. “By the way, idiots. Premarital sex is a sin. See you in hell.”

“We didn’t...” Charles exclaimed, but by the time the rest of the sentence came out of his mouth, I had shut the door. I have a feeling Charles will stay away from Thomas.

Why Does It Rain, Rain, Rain Down On Utopia?

The past few weeks of my life have been perfect. I've been happy. I've been doing well in school. I've got great friends. I didn't have anything to worry. I guess I was blinded by happiness when I didn't realize that something bad would have been coming up.

I'm not sure if I would have expected this but I should have expected something. I could have seen it coming, I could have been aware. I would have been able to stop this. I guess it's just my fault then, isn't? I was so naive not to expect this. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

I guess I should fill you in, diary.

Yesterday morning, Oliver came knocking.

"It's such a nice Saturday," He said. "We should go do something."

"Well I've been meaning to go shopping for a while." I told him. "Would you like to join me?"

"I would be delighted, Ms. Genevieve," Oliver replied. I grabbed my purse and laced my arm through Oliver's.

We went down to the shoe store where Oliver helped me pick out a cute pair of flats. The right shoe had a pretty red rose crocheted into it. The yellow center seemed to burst out of the red, creating a bright golden color. They were made of a slightly itchy canvas fabric but they still looked great on my feet.

After a few more stops in various stores, Oliver and I stopped from lunch. We stopped at a cute little cafe called "Le Cafe de Soleil". The Sun Cafe. We sat outside in the bright sun, fitting for the cafe. The chairs were a black eetal, twisted into beautiful pictures of leaves and flowers. The table matched, the white napkins shining out against the black metal.

I ordered a salad while Oliver ordered a sandwich. It didn't take long for a food to arrive. It was usually quick, actually. My salad was cool and refreshing. It was perfect for the day.

"So," I began. "Why don't you like Thomas?"

"That little tosser?" Oliver retorted. "He's so naive and boring."

"Really?" I asked. "He's really a sweet guy. I thought you would have liked him."

"Ha!" He spat. "I still can't believe my dead even let that pauper into the school."

"He's an amazing violinist." I told Oliver. "He's first chair in the school orchestra. It's almost as if he's too good for first chair." My orchestra teacher loves Thomas. She wants to smother him to death. I used to be her favorite. But I don't blame her for loving Thomas because he's so adorable.

"Sound the trumpets! Alert the media! Organize a parade! Let's celebrate! Thomas is first chair in a school orchestra!" Oliver said sarcastically. "Whoop-di-fucking-doo."

"Is there another reason why you hate him?" I prodded.

"If I told you, you'd laugh at me." Oliver replied, suddenly sounding vulnerable.

"I wouldn't laugh. If you hate him this much, it's got to be serious." I informed Oliver.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" Oliver asked.

"I swear I won't."

"Well, it's quite obvious that Xavier has taken an interest in Thomas." Oliver returned. "And I've taken an interest in Xavier."

"Xavier will get over Thomas soon enough. Once he's corrupted the poor bloke, Xavier won't give him another glance."

"It's going to take a long time to corrupt Thomas."

"Don't worry. You're an interesting guy. Once Xavier is done with Thomas, I'm sure you'll catch his eye next."

"I guess."

Once we finished lunch, Oliver told me he had to go back to the dorm to finish a paper. He asked if I wanted to return with him, but I answered no. I still had shopping to be done.

I headed to a dress shop near the cafe. I had an extra few hundred dollars I could spend, so why not get a dress? After half an hour and finding disappointing dress after disappointing dress, I came across my soulmate. It was a bright red baby doll dress. The top was strapless and had a beautiful pattern float across it. A red fabric belt split the top and the bottom and smooth and shiny.

When I tried it on, I looked gorgeous and mature. The fabric felt soft and silky on my skin and the absence os straps enhanced the dress. The top was a little tight but I felt like it was a perfect fit anyway.

I paid for the dress and decided it was time to go back to Inglefield. As I walked down the street, police cars and ambulances sped past me. I remember the annoying sirens whirring down the road, annoying me the entire.

I finally reached the destination of the emergency vehicles. At an intersection was a large crash involving at least five cars. People were crowding around the scene and I knew there was no way I was going to get through the chaos. I decided to take a different route. It was longer but it was definitely less crowded and more peaceful.

As I walked along the empty streets, I thought about Oliver. At that moment in time, his relationship issue was the most drama I had in my life. I like Thomas a lot but I've been friends with Oliver since I was a little kid. So of course I wish him well in his pursuits of Xavier. But i hope Xavier doesn't ruin Oliver's life. Xavier's not a straight laced school boy.

Abruptly I was wrenched from my thoughts when a cloth was shoved over my nose and mouth. An arm wrapped itself tightly around my arms. I tried to struggle but the fumes of some unidentifiable chemical on the cloth were making my world fuzzy and making it harder for me to fight back. Soon, I closed my eyes and fell unconscious.

When I woke up, I was in a shabby apartment bedroom. The dingy wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the small window barely let any light in. There was one bedside table, one chair and the bed I was on. My arms and legs were tied to the posts on the bed. The ropes rubbed my wrists and ankles raw every time I struggled. There were two doorways. One to the main room. The second door was closed.

I realized I felt extremely cold and when I looked down at my body, I saw that I was naked. I wanted to shriek and vomit at the same time. Panic began to rise within. Who had taken me? Where was I? What would happen to me?

The second door opened the slowly and a man stepped out of the room behind the door. He was tall and lean. He, too, wasn't wearing any clothes. I knew what was going to happen. There wasn't an escape. This man had obviously locked his eyes on me. I wanted to scream but my mouth wouldn't open. Every part of me was paralyzed and I was left helpless.

The man had blue eyes and black hair. He was pale with a square jaw. His expression looked cold and emotionless.

He crawled on top of the bed next to me. My heart beat faster with every movement he made. He laid his hand on my breast and massaged it. It felt like the worst feeling ever.

He crawled on top of me. "No... stop!" I begged.

"Be quiet." He ordered. I didn't register the words in my mind.

"Don't do this!" I yelled. "Please!"

He smacked me across the face. "I said be quiet." His face slowly moved towards mine. His lips met mine. I tried to keep my mouth closed, but his teeth clamped down on my lip. I opened my mouth quickly and let him move his tongue around on my teeth and down my throat. It felt sickening.

He began to gyrate and grind his body into mine. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't believe it was happening. I couldn't even stop it.

Soon, I felt him... inside me. It hurt so much. It felt like I was going to rip in two as he forced himself upon me. He moaned disgustingly. I just wanted it all to end.

"Good job," He mumbled roughly and got off of me. He pulled on some clothes and grabbed a suitcase from his closet. And he left.

I sobbed for a while before I realized I was left alone, tied to a bed with no way to let anyone know where I was. For the first hour I wondered about how I would escape or who would save me. Then I started to think about how I would die. Would it be dehydration? Starvation?

I began to cry again, thinking about my inevitable death. I felt myself drifting off into sleep. I tried to fight, remembering the last time I closed my eyes I ended up in an unfamiliar apartment trapped with a rapist. But my eyes won and I fell asleep. I woke up to a pounding noise on the door.

"Open the damn door!" Someone shouted. I heard an aggravated sigh and a pause.

"Come in the room!" I wanted to shout. "Help!" But I felt the sting of the smack again and decided against, worried that the man would appear and hit me again.

I heard a door open. "Time to pay rent." I voice called. The bedroom door opened and I was face to face with a short, angry man. I regretted wanting him to come in. I didn't want him to look at me. Maybe he'd be compelled to rape me, too.

He whipped out his cellphone and called for help. Within ten minutes, the apartment was crawling with policemen and EMTs.

One EMT came over to me and untied my bonds. She then gave me a blanket and helped me onto a stretcher.

"I'm going to take you back to the hospital and we'll do a rape kit there." I flinched at the word rape. Rape made it sound like it was worse than it already was. The word rape just sounds so bad. It sounds like a monster. "Then we can have your parents come and take you home."

I nodded and she pushed me down to the ambulance. A police officer sat in the back with me, asking questions. I gave him a description of my attacker and recounted what had happened. It took me a while and I began to tear up again. I just wanted the officer to go away and I wanted to huddle up under a rock and die. But I knew I'd never be left alone if I didn't tell the officer now. I just didn't want to get into a fight. I didn't want to have my way.

After the very awkward and painful rape kit, a nurse called my mom.

"What's this about?" She demanded when she entered the examination room.

"Nothing, mother." I sighed. I would have waited there for hours if it meant waiting for my dad. Or maybe I should have given the nurse Abbot's name. Anyone but my mom. I would have let Xavier come get me if it meat my mom didn't have to come.

"No. You will tell me." She ordered. "I get a call out of the blue that I needed to pick up my daughter from the emergency room while I'm consulting with a very important paying customer. I want to know why."

She would have at least known I was attacked if she had actually looked at my swollen lip and the bruise on my face.

"I hurt myself falling down." I lied.

"That doesn't warrant a trip to the emergency room."

"I thought I hurt my ankle and I wanted to get it checked out."

"It's obviously fine. You can't catch a cab back to Inglefield? Cut the bullshit, Genevieve."

"I was attacked." I told her.

"Okay, now you're really lying."

"I was kidnapped and attacked, mom!" I cried.

"By whom?"

"I don't know. The police are searching for him." I told her, the waterworks starting. Again. "I just want to go back to Inglefield. Please take me there."

"Come on," She commanded. A few minutes after we began driving, my mom spoke. "When they get this guy, I'll hire the best lawyer, alright?"

"Great," I told her in a monotone voice.

"I'm just trying to help. You don't have to be so rude."

I didn't say anything. I didn't want to get mad at her. I didn't want to fight. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

Mother dropped me off at the front of the girls' dormitory. I quickly raced to my room, avoiding everyone at all costs. The first thing that day went right when I reached my room and Alice wasn't in.

I got into my pajamas and crawled into my bed. It was half nine. The day had seemed longer. I felt as if it was one in the morning.

As I fell asleep, I prayed that I would wake up in the same bed. I prayed even harder that I wouldn't wake up at all. I didn't want to wake up and relive it all again. I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to think about how I'll never be the same again. And I don't want to face everyone else. They may not know what exactly happened, but they'll figure it out. And then they'll talk about it all the time.

I want to be left alone. I want to sleep forever, safe from anything that can break me down.

I want to eat you like you're fucking edible

Journal,

"I think he's into boys," I thought out loud as I laid my head down into Marie-Claire's lap. She stared at the television screen and ran her fingers through my hair.

"Who?" she asked, bitting her lip. Pride and Prejudice was on- the scene where Mr. Darcy confesses that he's loved Elizabeth all along and Elizabeth rejects him. If she cried at such a sappy scene like this, I would never let her live it down.

"The orphan," I sighed, exasperatedly. "Thomas." Marie-Claire chuckled and looked down at me.

"You're not serious, right?" she asked, assessing me like I'd finally lost it.

"Not solely boys," I shrugged. "But he's definitely curious."

"And what led you to believe this, oh wise one?"

"I came out of the shower yesterday at gym class and he just stared. Straight at me. I don't even think he realizes that he's checking me out. Knowing him, he probably just thinks it's normal. But deep down..."

Marie-Claire threw her hands over her eyes. "LA LA LA. You are not sexualizing Thomas for me. Plus, people stare at you, Xavier. You're attractive. It doesn't mean they want to shag you."

"Yes it does."

Marie-Claire laughed and looked at me up and down. "Okay, yes it does. But that's because you're the Xavier clause."

"I have my own clause now?" I beamed. I'm sure my parents would be proud.

"You know how chicks are like "I don't like girls but I'd totally do Scarlet Johansson."? Well that's you. Guys who don't even like guys would do you."

"I'm not even that good looking," I shrugged. Marie-Claire gaped at me.

"Xavier Beckingham, shut your whore mouth," she exclaimed.

"I just travel with an aura of sexual tension. People look at me and think of sex."

Marie-Claire shook her head and sighed. "Please don't do anything stupid with Thomas. He's a good boy."

"Oh, I bet he would be."

"You just want to do this because he's the only teenager here that isn't steeped in sex. I know it's hard to believe, but there are guys that don't constantly think about sex. He has higher priorities," she said pointedly.

There was a shard of truth to this, but Marie-Claire was missing the bigger picture. Sure, I meant what I said about Thomas checking me out. But when he looks at her, it's something different entirely. He doesn't just stare at her boobs or her legs. His eyes are constantly glued to her smile and her eyes. When she makes him laugh, the smile remains on his face for the next hour. He always is helping her with things: helping her with cooking, helping her fix things, sitting in her dorm room and just talking to her while I'm off getting shit faced. Lust, I can deal with. It's not like Thomas is the first guy to stare at for too long, to "accidently" brush up against her. But this is something different from lust entirely.

"It's called love," Marie-Claire answered matter-of-factly. I turned toward her, gaping.

"Was I just thinking out loud?" I whispered.

"What? No, I was saying that there are other things in life besides sex, and that Thomas is interested in something else entirely. It's called love," Marie-Claire explained.

"Oh," I nodded.

If there was a guy in this school that make Thomas decide that guys are far better than girls, it's me. And this plan has to work.

All Is Fair In Love And War

So. Thomas the violin prodige. The guy who is ruining my chance at ever having sex with Xavier Beckingham and maybe even something more.

I can tell that Xavier's taken an interest in Thomas. Sometimes Xavier sits and stares at Thomas in the middle of class. He'll say really odd things that don't really make sense. And Xavier never makes much sense. But this is a different kind of Xavier shenanigans. This is the kind of Xavier shenanigans where he's plotting something, not just undermining a teacher or a fellow student. This is a serious plot. And this is something about Thomas. Not me. Not my dick. Thomas. And his dick. Not mine.

Plus, sometimes Xavier cuts down Thomas. And Xavier doesn't really give you attention unless he gives a shit about you. Even if that attention is in the form of insults, at least it means he's interested. And when Xavier is interested, he'll do something about it.

But Xavier's not interested in me. He doesn't even glance at me. We only talked once when Mrs. Dole made us work together on an assignment. And Xavier didn't really say anything. That was surely enjoyable.

And maybe I sound like a crazy-in-love school girl to you, journal. But Xavier is an interesting, complex guy. Just thinking about him, brooding about him, figuring him out takes about ninety percent of my day. So it's not totally weird. Just a little. But then again, nothing is ever normal with Xavier. Every thing's always a little weird.

Today I saw Genevieve fraternizing with the enemy. She's in love with his adorableness, which I don't understand. He's not some sweet puppy dog. He is the evilest of evils. He's the lowest of the low, entrancing poor, blind high school girls with his charms and his adorable eyes. He is nothing in my book. I decided it would be the perfect time to display to Thomas that I think very little of him. He already knew, but I thought I might as well let him have it again.

"Did you finally wake up and realize that no girl is going to go for a guy who spends his time practicing fingering a musical instrument?" I scowled as I tossed my jacket nonchalantly on my desk.

"Can you even do that?" I pried. It was a little too much to imagine violin porn but that was the price I had to pay for jeering Thomas.

"What?" Thomas asked naively.

"Finger a girl? Aren't your hands like... your liveliness?" I spat. "Magical phalanges!" I taunted as I waved my hands in front of his face.

"I play the violin, not a surgeon." Thomas returned. He's not fun at all. "I'm not Ben Carson: Gifted Hands."

"I bet you don't even know how to work a... joystick." And I'll have you know Xavier likes other joysticks. His sexual preference is yes.

"What?" Thomas asked.

"Nothing," I told him, giving up. This boy just doesn't get it.

At least I know eventually Xavier will grow tired of Thomas. Fingers crossed.

I'm such a soul whose intentions are good! Oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Well, this has been a whirlwind.

I don't know why I started this stupid diary in the first place, now that I think about it. I think I had this romanticized fantasy that this was my first step in becoming a famous violinist; and one day, when I've retired in a mansion in London and Juliard is begging me to speak at their school, people will want to know where it all began. I mean, if you could read Beethoven's diary, hearing him ramble on about the very beginning of his rise to being a quasi-deity like legend, you'd be interested, right? Even if every other page was, "Oh my god, that bitch Marcy will just not put out. I mean, helllloooo. I play the violin! Who wouldn't want this?"

This is awfully presumptuous of me, I know, but when I write in this stupid book, I can't help imagine people reading it all over the world. That's probably why I insisted on sitting now and writing today, instead of getting caught up in the whirlwind of this school.

What a whirlwind it is! Or a maelstrom. Mostly due to the dynamic and mysterious duo of Marie-Claire and Xavier. I haven't figured Xavier out yet. Sometimes he seems absolutely fascinated with me; then half the time he just cuts me down with every syllable. Plus, he gets this look on his face when he looks at me: he smirks, tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and chuckles, and then tells me I'm a "good boy". Interesting character, indeed.

Marie-Claire is Xavier's literary foil. Where he's mean, she's kind. Where he wants to see you fail, she wants to hold your hand and ask you about your day. While he's always shagging some girl in the pool house, she'll come over to my dorm room on Sundays and have tea, and she'll get this sad look on her eyes when she stares out the window, like a lonely girl waiting for her love to come back from war. But somehow they work together, and they work with me.

"Mozart," Genevieve says, wrapping her arms around me. "What's got you down?"

"Nothing," I shrug. Genevieve is one of Marie-Claire's friends at this school who's rapidly becoming my friend. She seems to be really taking to me.

"Did you finally wake up and realize that no girl is going to go for a guy who spends his time practicing fingering a musical instrument?" Oliver sneered and tossed his jacket into the chair on my other side.

The same cannot be said for Oliver.

"Can you even do that?" Oliver asked, grimacing at some unspoken thought.

"What?"

"Finger a girl?" he spat out, like the words were in another language. "Aren't your hands like... your livelihood?" Oliver held up his hands in front of my face. "Magical phalanges!"

"I play the violin, I'm not a surgeon," I shrugged. "I'm not Ben Carson: Gifted Hands."

Oliver snorted. "I bet you don't even know how to work a... joystick."

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said and changed the subject.

Well, future reader of my autobiography, I'm sure you're not terribly concerned about the upcoming conversation about Oliver assumes that a girl's ladybits would feel like jello. Yea, I'm not sure the publishers would publish that bit.

PS. Do they? That's gross.

She said "Do me a favor and ask if you need some help. Do me a favor and stop flattering yourself."

Journal,

You know this feeling, Xavier Beckingham. You open your eyes and it's like there's an invisible pane of plexiglass between between you and everyone else. You resist the urge to each out to someone and see if you can touch them anymore. You know it's irrational but for some reason you expect that if you tried to grab onto someone, you'd be stopped millimeters short by some invisible barrier. Or maybe you'd just pass on through them. It hurts your head to think about it, and you know you're probably just tired, so you close you're eyes and when you open them up, the haze has lifted and you pass it off as just another thing.

"Xavier," Thomas murmured in my left ear. My head snapped forward and my eyes flew open. I turned my head and saw Thomas staring at me anxiously. The plexiglass hadn't lifted. "Xavier, they called you down to the office."

I nodded and grabbed my jacket. I turned to face Marie-Claire, who was reading a book I had given her last weekend. She glanced up at me and when she met my eyes, she quickly turned her eyes back torward her book. I passed it off as nothing and left the classroom unceremoniously.

Halfway down the hall, I started to talk to myself. This isn't unusual when I'm out of it, like I am today. "What was that for?" I murmured to the empty hallway.

"Does she think that I'm getting in trouble for shagging some staff member? I haven't even done that recently!" I shook my head and continued walking. I turned the corner and the other ball dropped. "Oh shit."

This was it, wasn't it? I'd been aware that every day I was at this school was just one day closer to the administration figuring me out. Well, the curtains closing on me now, isn't it? I'm getting kicked out. This is why Marie-Claire couldn't meet my eyes. She knew I was oblivious.

"Fuck," I murmured. A teacher walking down the hallway in the opposite direction glared at me disapprovingly. "You got a fucking problem?" I spit out at him and continued walking to the headmaster's office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Excuse me," the secretary said as I stared blankly out the window by the headmaster's office. "The headmaster will see you now."

I nodded and entered the room. The headmaster, a middle aged man who looked very much like his son, sat at his desk with a neutral expression on his face.

"Xavier Beckingham," he stated. "I'm surprised we've never met before." He motioned for me to sit down. "You have quite a reputation at this school," he said and flicked a folder open. "Your English teacher wrote down that she though you were a genius. A lazy genius who doesn't work to his full potential. Do you know what an honor it is to be called a genius at this type of school?"

"It's like being called the best whore in Bangkok," I replied sardonically and smiled innocently.

"You like doing that, doing you, Xavier? Pushing the envelope. Being provocative and flippant to your superiors," the headmaster said. "You have quite a laundry list of complaints and reprimands."

"I'm just misunderstood," I replied in an unctuous tone.

"Sexually exaggerated, insubordinate, lazy, and a real twat. It's funny, none of your teachers wrote down that you were just misunderstood."

"Sexually exaggerated?" I restated and smirked. "I can live with that."

"It's not a compliment," the headmaster said, doing everything in his power to not roll his eyes.

"It's funny, you could say the same thing about your son," I replied innocently. "He's an attractive boy, you know? You should be proud."

"If you're trying to suggest that I'm not aware of my son's escapades, you really must not think very highly of me. But you should know that your position in this school is on very shaky grounds and it would be very detrimental to your situation to become involved with my son."

I glared at him. Was he really telling me that he'd kick me out if I shagged his son? This certainly does make that situation more... interesting.

"You know," the headmaster continued, "your father is such an involved donor in the school. We'd hate to lose his charity. But we'd survive without him and we're not afraid to cut our losses."

I stared at the headmaster dumbfoundedly. "My father?"

"You may leave now, Beckingham."

"Wait, you said something about my father?" I snapped.

"Suzy, please escort Mr. Beckingham out of my office," he called. The secretary timidly entered.

"Wait!" I snapped. "My father? What do you know about my father? You stay the fuck away from him. I don't want anything to do with him!"

The headmaster rolled his eyes and closed the door in front of my face. What the fuck is going on?