Becca’s Journal 8/1/18
This journal will be the death of me. Required by my therapist. “A safe place to work out my feelings.” Blah, blah, blah. There, worked them out. I’m bored already. Oh, god, senior year. I’m exhausted just by the thought of all the pretending I have to do at school. Think I’ll take a nap. Bye, journal.
Note from Harry 9/3/18
First off, I’m not a stalker. It’s just that I’ve noticed you ever since freshman year, but it’s taken me until the first day of senior year to write you this note. I’ve always admired your sort of fierce independence. I like how you wear the same ripped jeans and your assortment of flannel shirts almost every day. But you’re also kind to people in class. You never snub anyone. You have a nice laugh. You speak your mind, but don’t seem to hate on people who are different. You’d probably even be nice to me if I had the nerve to talk to you, but being invisible still feels safer to me.
Anyway, we’re seniors now. I thought maybe it was time to tell you that someone here at school thinks you are the cool girl.
You can think of me as “Harry” (as in Potter?–cloak of invisibility, get it?). Nerdboy works also.
Becca’s Journal 9/3/18
WTF!! My first thought was that I wanted to punch him for messing with my stuff, but now that I’ve read the note obsessively as if I was in middle school or something, I see he actually sounds really nice. I mean, he said nice, almost entirely, non-creepy things about me. Noticed me since freshman year??!
Yeah, freshman year–the year I came out to my parents and they lost their shit. They cried and prayed and prayed and cried and I never again mentioned that I liked girls. They got me a good Christian therapist and pray every night that I get healed. Got that, journal?
Goddam, you Nerdboy. That was one cowardly thing you just did–dropping me a note with no way for me to write back.
Note from Harry 10/23/18
Hey Cool Girl,
You seem sad today. I saw you sitting over in the corner of the student center and you weren’t with your usual crew. It was just you and your notebook. Looked like you were drawing one of those epic fantasy scenes you like to work on in class. Yeah, ok, I might have looked over your shoulder once–maybe twice.
About the invisibility thing. My family moved a lot when I was a kid and I found making and losing friends all the time just made me sad. So, I just became one of those kids who never raises his hand, or joins a club, or goes to a dance. I did ask a girl out once. Sort of a “wanna-go-get-something-to-eat-after school-sometime?”–awkward attempt. She laughed and walked away. Friendships are hard.
Anyway, I hope you are OK. I don’t like to see you looking sad. Or maybe you just have a lot on your mind. I’m sending you good vibes. I’ve got your back, Cool Girl.
Becca’s Journal 10/23/18
I’m so mad at you right now. How can you say you’ve got my back when you sit in the shadows across the student center and watch me hurt like that?
Last night’s session was brutal. The theme was perversion. The counselor, who is supposed to be a healer, a compassionate person, looks at me with such disgust.
Yeah, I was sad today, Harry. I’m going to tell you a little secret because I know you will keep it. After ever session, I peel back my sleeves and find a fresh place to draw the razor across my forearms. The scaring is becoming pretty impressive. So, those flannels you like so much, are more for coverage than for style, poor boy.
I cut because I’m drowning in disapproval. It’s stupid, I know, but I have all of these hating voices in my head, and cutting makes them silent, gives me myself back for a while.
Yes, Harry, I look sad today becauseI didn’t pack enough Tylenol and my cuts were throbbing like a bastard all day long. I could use a lot more than your “good vibes,” asshole. Got any Norco to go with those?
I actually don’t think you are an asshole. Finding your note in my backpack is the only good thing that has happened today. You’ve really got that invisibility thing down pat. It makes me feel good to know someone nice is thinking about me. It would be even better if I could somehow get this note (oops! journal entry) to you.
Note from Harry 11/15/18
I thought I ought to drop you a note before we go on Thanksgiving break. I don’t know how you feel about the holidays, but I pretty much hate them. How does a season that’s supposed to be so nice end up with so much drama? Maybe your family is not like that.
My vibes aren’t working on you. I watch you every day in class and you are becoming one of the “invisibles,” like me. I haven’t heard your laugh in a month. I almost came and sat with you at lunch because you’ve been keeping so much to yourself, but now I’m scared. If you’ve been hating the notes or if I’ve made you afraid, you might turn me in for harassing you. Naw, knowing you, you’d probably just punch me out. I can see the headlines now “Cool Girl Clobbers Nerdboy–Claims Harassment!”
I don’t know what to do, Cool Girl.
Becca’s Journal 11/15/18
He finally wrote again! I’d been waiting and waiting. God, that’s so pathetic. Searching my books and backpack every night hoping for a note from my friend, one of the misfit toys.
My parents want to send me to this gay conversion camp over Thanksgiving break where they try to “pray the gay” out of me. I’m drowning, Harry, I don’t know what to do.
I’m tired of waiting. I’m done with this crap.
On November 16, 2019, Becca Anderson came to school early with six envelopes, all of them with the name “Harry” written in big block letters across the front. She went to each of her teachers and asked if she could pin one to the front bulletin board in each of her classrooms. She promised that it was nothing sinister and because she was a good girl, none of her teachers minded. Inside of each envelope was the same message:
Please, don’t be afraid. I need you to become visible. I. Need. YOU. Today. Meet me for coffee today at Sam’s. If you are not there by 3:45, I really will find you and punch you out.