A/N: Hello, everyone. I haven't written anything in awhile, but I'm back with this little fic. It's nothing groundbreaking, just an idea that has been floating around in my head since I wrote "Photographer Boy". I hope you enjoy this super short first part. It'll be a multi-chapter kind of thing so I'll try to update as often as possible.

January 23, 2016

Hey,

You have no idea how many greetings I went through before I finally settled on "Hey". I mean, talking to a piece of paper is kind of odd, to be perfectly honest, but I guess I'll approach it like I would an essay. You see, this is my first journal. It was a Christmas gift from my dad, who claims to have had one when he was young. He said that it is where he wrote his deepest, darkest secrets; stories, and I suppose all the things that happen to a kid at that age.

I guess I believe him. Dad and uncle Frasier seem like the type. Also, from what grandpa has told me, they didn't have many friends growing up so I guess having someone – or something, in this case – to confide in would have been essential. That's another thing I have in common with them, by the way: I have no friends, but I blame my shyness. They were just… nerds.

I don't have very much in common with the other kids at my prep school. They – the boys especially – tease me by making fun of my last name and at the fact that I am the shortest of the boys in our class. One time, I turned to Aunt Ronee for advice on how to make friends, and she gave me a lot of good tips. I tried them all – telling silly jokes to this group of boys I'd wanted to hang out with; volunteering to partner up with the girl no one wanted to work with; offering snacks to the people at my table during lunch. Nothing worked! It's like I'm destined to remain friendless. When I told Ronee about how badly things had gone she hugged me and said, "Keep your chin up, kid."

I wish it were that easy.

I have to admit, though; writing all of this down has made me feel slightly better. Maybe that's why they gave me the journal to begin with. Parents are good about sensing this kind of thing, you know? Also, my dad is a psychiatrist and mom once claimed to be psychic so…

Anyway, that's all I have to say for now. If anything happens at school – like if I miraculously make a friend or an enemy – you'll be the first to know.

Maybe.

'Night.

TBC...