Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda(14)

But seriously, leftover Reese’s? Is it possible to send chocolate over email these days? PLEASE SAY IT IS.

My Halloween wasn’t bad. I won’t say too much about it, but I ended up going to this guy’s party. I don’t think it was really my scene, but it was definitely interesting. I guess it was nice to step out of my comfort zone (wait—I didn’t just ruin my chance of convincing you I’m a hardcore party ninja, right?).

So, I keep thinking about the idea of secret identities. Do you ever feel locked into yourself? I’m not sure if I’m making sense here. I guess what I mean is that sometimes it seems like everyone knows who I am except me.

Okay, I’m glad you mentioned homecoming, because I totally forgot that Spirit Week is this week. Monday is Decades Day, right? I guess I should check online so I can avoid making an ass of myself. Honestly, I can’t believe they schedule Spirit Week right after Halloween. Creekwood really blows its load on costume days all at once. How do you think you’ll dress up for Monday? I know you’re not going to answer that.

And I totally figured you’d be ogling the cheerleaders on Friday, because you’re all about the ladies. Me too, Blue. Me too.

—Jacques

FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected] DATE: Nov 2 at 1:43 PM

SUBJECT: Re: Reese’s are better than sex Reese’s are better than sex? Admittedly, I wouldn’t know, but I have to hope you’re wrong about that one. Maybe you should stop having heterosexual sex, Jacques. I’m just saying.

The kids in your neighborhood sound really charming. Urine isn’t a huge issue here, so maybe next year, I’ll take your advice. It will probably be moot, anyway, because my mom almost never goes out. She just can’t keep up with your party ninja ways, Jacques. ?

I completely understand what you mean about feeling locked into yourself. For me, I don’t even think it has anything to do with other people thinking they know me. It’s more that I want to leap in and say certain things and do certain things, but I always seem to hold myself back. I think a big part of me is afraid. Even thinking about it makes me nauseated. Did I mention I get nauseated easily?

Of course, that’s the exact reason I don’t want to say anything about Spirit Week and costumes. I don’t want you to put two and two together and figure out who I am. Whatever it is we’re doing here, I don’t think it works if we know each other’s real identities. I have to admit that it makes me nervous to think of you as someone actually connected with my life, rather than a mostly anonymous person on the internet. Obviously, some of the things I’ve told you about myself are things I’ve never talked about with anyone. I don’t know, Jacques—there’s something about you that makes me want to open up, and that’s slightly terrifying for me.

I hope this isn’t too awkward. I know you were kidding when you asked what costume I was going to wear, but I wanted to put this out there—just in case it wasn’t entirely a joke? I have to admit I’m curious about you sometimes, too.

—Blue

P.S. I’m attaching a Reese’s cup to this email. I hope this is what you had in mind.

FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected]

DATE: Nov 3 at 6:37 PM

SUBJECT: Re: Reese’s are better than sex Blue,

I think I made you uncomfortable, and I’m really, really sorry. I’m kind of a nosy person. It’s always been a problem. I’m so sorry, Blue. I know I sound like a broken record. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this outright, but our emails are really important to me. I would never forgive myself if I f*cked this up. Effed this up. Sorry, I don’t even know if you cuss.

So, I might have given you the wrong idea with this subject line. I have to admit that I don’t TECHNICALLY know whether Reese’s are better than sex. Reese’s are really freaking incredible, don’t get me wrong. And I’m guessing they’re better than hetero sex, a.k.a. “intercourse” (per my mom).

Non-hetero sex, though? I imagine it may be a little better than Reese’s. Is it weird that I can’t talk about this without blushing?

Anyway, speaking of Reese’s, thank you so much for the photo. That was exactly what I had in mind. Instead of actually eating one, I just wanted to IMAGINE how salty and chocolaty and awesome it would be to eat one. It’s great, because I really wanted to torture myself, but I didn’t feel like making the effort to Google Reese’s cups myself.

I would raid our own supply of leftover chocolate, but it didn’t even come close to surviving the weekend.

—Jacques

Partying harder than Blue’s mom since 2014.





7


WEDNESDAY IS GENDER BENDER DAY, which basically amounts to southern straight people cross-dressing. It’s definitely not my favorite.

We’re watching Twelfth Night in first period, because every English teacher is a comedian. Mr. Wise has this warped, ratty couch in his classroom that smells a little like beer, and I’m pretty sure people sneak in here to have sex and rub their fluids all over it after school. It’s that kind of couch. But we all fight to the death to sit on it during class, I guess because everything’s just a million times more bearable when you’re not in a desk.

Today, it’s been taken over by soccer boys in Creekwood cheerleading uniforms—specifically, Nick, Garrett, and Bram. That’s generally what the jocks do for Gender Bender. There are only about twenty cheerleaders in all, so I have no idea how they meet the demand. Maybe they all have ten uniforms each. Who the hell knows what this school spends its money on.