"Wednesday, June 8th, 2017, 10:15 p.m. (later)
Dear Diary,
I am sorry I couldn't talk about it earlier, but I was feeling too emotional. Yesterday made me feel better than I have ever felt.
Anyway, where the trouble started was when I decided to go to school without any shoes on, and apparently, everyone around here thinks that's a tramp-stamp. All the other girls were saying how that means I'm no longer a virgin, since apparently being a virgin means you like having partly digitigrade feet cooped-up in ill-fitting shoes. I couldn't help it. Those old things were hurting, and Mom and I hadn't had time to go shopping for ones that fit yet, not that I'm sure I want ones that do.
Well, my friend Brianna, who is popular because her parents have a pool, stood up for me, and I now respect her more than ever. She said, if being barefoot makes me a slut, then she's a slut, and she tossed her shoes up against the wall. A few other girls did the same, and we all got up and did a slut dance until Mr. Briggs stomped his hoof and told us to focus on algebra for a while.
The time for caring what dumb people think is over. I have real friends. They're the ones that stood up and danced, and if they didn't dance, they don't matter.
And a couple of the boys got up to support me, too. One of them was Bobby, who is also in that class with me. I'm not sure yet how I feel about that."
You have been sitting on the floor in front of your floor-length mirror as you write, now in your teal gym shorts and a white tank. You have a few pictures of some neko underwear models up on your tablet, and you're looking at them pensively, wondering if you will ever be that pretty. You don't have any illusion that a little girl is pretty in that way, but as you look in the mirror, you are starting to see the first meaningful curves. The more you look at them...the more you like them. For some reason, they had bothered you for a while before that moment dancing with your friends.
Bobby really can be a punk, but...he stood up. Maybe because of that, you don't feel so bad about thinking you really like when he pays attention to you. If only he'd do it by standing up for you more often instead of hair-pulling. What's up with boys and that, anyway?