~Prologue~

Dear Sk8t3r Girl

Dear, Dear Diary, I Want To Tell My Secrets,
Cause You're The Only One That I Know Who'll Keep Them.
Dear, Dear Diary, I Want To Tell My Secrets;
I Know You'll Keep Them.
This Is What I've Done.

I've Been Down Every Road You Could Go.
I Made Some Bad Choices, As You Know.
Seems I've Got This Whole World
Cradled In My Hands,
But It's Just Like Me
Not To Understand.

~Dear Diary, by Pink

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

Paul's P.O.V.

To: Sk8ter Girl

From: Hothead

Topic: Friends?

Sent: 6:38 am

Dear Sk8ter Girl,

Um, I really haven't done this kind of thing before, so…

My name is, uh, Hothead? Yeah, Hothead! I'm nineteen, attractive, pretty tall for my age – er, any age, really – and I like to play football. 'Cuz I'm pretty strong and buff and – did I mention that I'm attractive? You've probably seen me around at school, hanging out with all of the hot chicks. Yeah, I know, I know! What would somebody like me need from somebody like you?

No! Wait, wait, wait! That came out wrong! Really, really, really wrong! I didn't mean it like that because – hey, I don't even really know you, right? How could I make assumptions like that when I have no idea who you are? Not that you're not important! I just – fuck, I feel like I'm digging myself deeper and deeper into this hole. You probably want to click out of this email now. Just give me a chance! I…really need somebody to just…hear me out, okay?

My friend (let's call him Boy Toy, since you probably can't print Asshole, though it would be funny if you could) is pretty pissed right now. He likes to mess me up and poke fun at all of the stuff that I do wrong, which I'm man enough to admit is loads of stuff. I've got a really horrible temper, for example, but I'm pretty sure you already know that, right? I mean, you must know me? Not know me, know me, because that would be pretty weird, but…

Dammit! You know what I mean! Just…give me some advice, okay? He's already tried to beat me up to make himself feel better, but I couldn't let him get away with that when the rest of the…uh, gang…was watching. So I gave it right back to him! Kinda kicked his ass, too…

Fuck. My friends all hate me. Fists aren't working anymore. What do I do?

Sincerely,

Hothead

Paul paused, quickly skimmed through the message again, and inhaled sharply through his flared nostrils. He closed his onyx eyes, slowly counted to ten, and then...

SEND.

***Author's Note***

Something that I dreamt about last night! After another argument with the Pack, Paul caves in and writes to the "Dear Sk8ter Girl Column" in search of help, perhaps another way to let out all of his pent up anger. He find surprising wisdom, and much more, in the shy girl that writes from the safety of her bedroom. Who is this girl, though? We find out more about her in the next chapter. ;)

P.S. Please read and review! I know it is short, but I would love to hear what you all think! Any guesses who Boy Toy is? Write it up in a review!