EIGHT

10/14/2003

Dear Diary,

Today was the worst day ever. Really, really, really bad. I don't even wanna write about it in here. A lot of kids hate me! I don't even know why. But they make fun of me and call me STUPID and throw things at me. Sometimes they push me down and then I can't get back up again and I start crying.

Today was the worst day yet. None of the teachers saw and now I have a big cut on my leg. Santana came in like Prince Charming though! She doesn't have a white horse, but she has white sneakers. She punched Noah in the stomach! She took me to the nurse's office and they put some Band-Aids on my cut.

She is soooo nice to me. She isn't nice to anyone else. That makes me feel special.

-Brittany


"Brittany!" Santana yelled, running across the playground, her bright white shoes gleaming against the asphalt. "What happened?"

I was sitting in a bloody puddle on the ground as tears slid down my cheeks. I hurriedly rubbed at them. It was definitely not cool to cry. And it was really uncool to cry in front of cool people like Santana. "Noah pushed me off the Monkey Bars," I mumbled.

"What?"

She came in next to me and kneeled into my legs. Her dark eyes didn't look like rain clouds today. They sparked into fireplaces.

"He called me RETARD and he pushed me off," I said, sniffing. I ran my wrist under my nose, wiping a string of snot into my T-shirt.

"Where is he?" she asked. The flames in her eyes grew 10 feet tall.

I pointed at the boy with the shaved head. He had a kind of brown skin like Santana, except his wasn't bright when I looked at it.

"Okay, stay here," she said, touching my arm with her palm. "Don't leave."

I nodded and she leaped to her feet, walking over to where Noah was throwing a football to his best friend, Finn Hudson. I blinked and Noah was on the ground! He had his arms wrapped around his stomach and his face looked like my dad's whenever he stubbed his toe on the bedpost.

I blinked again and Santana was next to me, ripping me up by one hand and yanking me into her side. "Go, go, go!" she shouted.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see through my leftover tears. I could only feel her hot fingers clutching mine, the pull of her legs and her hair whipping against my shoulders.

"You're gonna get in trouble," I breathed.

"It was worth it," she answered.

We hit the front door of Glenview Elementary and she pulled me down the hallway. I held her hand until she dropped it. I looked down at my dangling fingers, all alone, and reached out. One more minute. Just one more.

"Your leg is bleeding like crazy," Santana said, turning away.

"Yeah..."

She gave me a little smile and cocked her head. "Come on. I'll take you to the nurse's office."

I stared at her face. I thought, right then, that nothing the nurse could give me would ever make me feel as good as Santana's smile.


SIXTEEN

7/3/2011

Dear Notebook That Must Not Be Named,

So, I'm sorry for not doing the last assignment and for ignoring this journal for like a month now. I know you got mad about that, cuz you told me I'd better get to work or else suffer your FIST OF FURY (though I can't really picture your fist doing anything but holding Wet-naps).

But, see, Ms. Pillsbury, I don't really talk to people. I mean, I don't tell them all kinds of shit about myself that could get out and cause a sex riot. My tits alone are enough to make 3/4 of the football team hyperventilate. I should know. I pantsed Brittany last year after the Cheerios won Nationals and she got me back big time! She "lost" my bra and lifted my shirt up in front of everyone in the hallway. I swear Jacob Ben Israel actually passed out.

Anyway, I'll tell you my three words now:

1) scared

2) sad

3) lonely

That's all you get. And if you tell anyone, ANYONE, I'll deny this. And I might also still have that eight-inch knife in my locker that I mentioned earlier. So you'd best be careful!

- Santana "Sex Bomb" Lopez


I'd had enough of the stifling heat in Brittany's house. There were only so many Rocket Pops to go around before your lips went as blue and red as the 4th of July. Plus all that sugar. It was sinking right the fuck down to my boy hips.

I slapped two palms on them and jutted myself in Brittany's direction. "Hey, we needs to get our pool on. And none of that community center bullshit either. Let's sneak into Gold's."

"Gold's Gym?"

"Mmm hmm." I gave her a stained-red smirk. "Come on. You know my dad has a membership there."

"Yeah, but you don't really talk to your dad." She was sitting on the edge of her bed and watching the fan circle the room. When the air struck her face, her blond hair made a tornado.

I smiled at her on the inside, but it hurt too much to dig it out and show it to her. Dammit, why did she always have to bring up the obvious? I thought. I rubbed at a smudge of melted popsicle on my knuckle.

"Okay, you win," I muttered. "Lima Community."

Brittany jumped off of the bed. I almost started laughing. It was amusing how much energy she had, like all of the time, since I could barely stand still on account of the ridiculous lack of air conditioning in the Pierce house.

"I'll put on my bathing suit," she said. "You wanna borrow one of mine?"

I looked up at her. Even on tiptoe I was still a good three inches shorter. "Okay," I answered.

Brittany turned around, digging through her dresser. Out came two bikinis, one of them thrust at my head.

"Jesus, Brit!" I shouted. "You just attacked me with a pair of tit pads!"

"Sorry." She closed the drawer, a blush on her cheeks. Or maybe it was just the unbearable heat.

I bent down and picked up the bathing suit she'd decided to lend me. It was striped, green and black. Yeah, no doubt I'd look smoking hot in this, especially after getting that boob job at the beginning of the year. And Brittany was a lot smaller than me- up top, I mean- so my brickhouse was gonna be hosting a party on the roof. Bang, bang.

When I looked back up again, Brittany was naked and my breath caught in my throat. I wanted to look away. I should have looked away. But I could only stand there, frozen, wringing that bathing suit into knots at my stomach as her long legs slipped through the air.

"Jesus, Brit," I said quietly.

"What?" She turned around in only the bottoms, her bare breasts hanging.

I bit my lip, licking all of the popsicle off of it. "You look beautiful," I whispered, looking down at the floor.

She came up alongside my waist and massaged my shoulders. I could feel everything that I didn't wanna feel. I could feel us lying together in bed. I could feel her mouth on mine and her fingers dipping into my underwear, trailing the length of me, making me say everything I'd never wanted to say out loud. I closed my eyes. TIGHT.

"You want to?" Brit asked, stroking the inside of my arm. "I don't care anymore. You don't need to come out right away. I know it's hard. I just want us to be close again."

I knocked at her hand and slid into the corner. "It's way too fucking hot," I hissed. "Get dressed already. There's a deep end with my name on it."


7/3/2011

Dear YOU Again,

Please forget I said any of that stuff. Please. Just rip that last page out, Ms. Pillsbury. Fuck, I'll do it myself.

-You-Know-Who


We only got in once every half hour. That was how the hottest bitches at McKinley worked it, cooling off then reclining in our beach chairs while getting niceass tans.

Brittany handed me a bottle of water, the cap already screwed off and tumbling towards the grass. I picked it up and sucked back a long, cold stream. Our arms were touching, our still-wet skin.

"This is nice," Brittany said.

"Definitely better than your house." I gave her an automatic wink that I forgot she wouldn't be able to see from under my aviators.

"Remember when we used to come here, when we were little? You were really mean! You pushed that girl in the water. Remember? The one who was throwing clumps of dirt at me?"

"Yeah, I remember. She was a fucking bitch. She deserved it." I laughed.

Brittany laughed back, facing me to grin into my shades. "I liked that."

"What?"

"That you protected me," she said shyly, running her fingers down the ridges of her water bottle.

"I've always protected you."

"I know."

She tipped the water bottle into her lips. I watched the muscles of her neck contract, drinking down the last few drops. She really looked so beautiful then. She looked like a fucking painting or something, all pink and blonde and glowy. I reached out a hand and set it on hers, pulling her fingers into my side.

"Nothing has to change, right?" I asked, my heart beating under the too-small bikini bra. It was drumming so fast I thought for sure she could see it. I clutched Brittany's hand as hard as I could. "We can go back to how we used to be?"

She gave me a sad and silent smile.

A group of flip-flops struck the grass, a chorus of laughter and a wet towel snapped against the arm of my chair. "Lesbos!" the boys cried out, loud enough for everyone else to hear. "Why don't you meet us in the bathhouse? We can take care of you."

I dropped Brittany's hand and jumped up. I'd knock them out if they came near her. I'd slash them with razorblades if they said anything else.

"Fuck you!" I shouted.

"Yeah, you oughta," one of them said, rocketing up next to me and shoving his knee into my crotch. "You bitches are probably great at giving head," he whispered.

"Hey!" Brittany cried out, pulling at my arm, pulling me away from the assholes. "Just leave us alone," she begged.

They laughed in her face and walked away.

I let her hold onto me for a moment then I ran in the opposite direction, into the showers, where I pushed one of the moldy curtains out of the way and sank down onto the wooden bench.

I wasn't gonna cry. No way was I gonna cry. Brittany was the one who did that. I was the one who wiped everything away, who'd made my chest so hard that it couldn't feel anything anymore.

What a fucking lie.

I peeled off my fake lashes and sobbed into one hand, lodging it against my mouth with such force that I could barely breathe.

This was what happened to gay chicks in Lima. This was how things worked when you were obvious about shit, with your stupid gay hands and your stupid gay looks and your stupid gay body.

My tears bunched up into a puddle along my lifelines. I sucked down the salt and sniffed. My eyes shut and I took myself back to when I was little, before I'd figured out what gay was, before I'd had to accept it.

"Santana?" a whisper echoed outside the curtain. It slid open, then closed again just as quickly. Brittany stood in front of me, her sunglasses propped in her hair. "Hey..."

I dropped my lashes on the floor and kicked them towards the drain. "This place is fucking gross. Why the hell am I in here without sandals?"

"We should turn the shower on," Brittany said. "For noise."

I gave her a tiny nod and she reached up and twisted at the faucet. A loud gush of water beat at my back. Brittany pushed herself into me, wrapping her arms around my body as it limped inside her embrace. I'd forgotten how good this felt. I'd forgotten how much I became someone else whenever she touched me.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her wet lips grazing my ear.

"No," I answered.

And, for the first time in a long time, I wasn't lying.