"Bear, you need to get up," his mother murmured. She stroked his chestnut brown hair and he sighed into the pillow. No matter how old he got he would still love when his mother woke him up in the mornings before school. She was his alarm clock, making sure he had breakfast and a lunch before sending him down the road to the bus stop.

"I don't wanna," he mumbled.

"Bear, you've got to, before your father throws a fit about your tardiness again," she said. He groaned and slowly rose. His mother stood and stepped away, kissing his cheek once he was sitting up and glaring at the floor.

"I'll get your breakfast, honey. Just get ready," and she left the room. It was easy for Barry to get ready. His outfit was practically the same every day: thin sweatshirt with whatever logo, blue jeans, and a pair of beat-up black Converse. His hair was typically unruly, although he styled it when he felt like it, occasionally.

Two heavily buttered bagels were on the counter and he snatched them up, kissing his mother on the cheek as he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the door.

"Bear, what was that journal on your nightstand?" she called. His eyes widened and he spun around, racing back to his room.

"I found it on the train yesterday and I had meant to return it but I didn't get around to it," he said as he went back past her.

"Okay, honey. Well, good luck at school today. Don't get in trouble," she said with a small smile. He returned it and then left, walking down the buckling, concrete sidewalk with long strides.

His bagels were gone in seconds and he licked the extra butter off of his fingers before opening the journal for the first time since last night. He read the first entry as he waited for the ever-late bus.

Dear Journal,

Today is the day after Christmas and my little brother has already broken his Star Wars figurine and his Legos are scattered across the house. Athena and Ares are having fun batting the pieces around although I'm afraid they might choke on them. Mom and Dad got me this journal so that I could talk about my feelings without actually telling anyone about them, since I don't like talking to people. Thus, I am sitting on my bed, listening to Imagine Dragons and writing about my feelings. Journal, I am aware that it is customary to tell you about myself in this first writing experience but as no one else will be touching this, I'm going to let you draw conclusions. I believe Christmas is a lovely time of year 1) because you can give people presents that make them smile and 2) seeing people's decorations is a lovely pastime. I don't like Christmas because people, especially the kids with richer families, expect things and are bitter when they don't recieve everything on their wishlist. You see, if they were only given what they needed and maybe one or two things they wanted, they might feel less inclined to complain. However, they are entitled and self-centered, thus, they will always want more. Oh, look at that, Mom's calling me down to eat leftovers. Until next time, Journal.

Sincerely,

Your new friend

Barry slid the journal into his jacket as the bus pulled around the corner, slightly baffled by the girl's sporadic writing. It wasn't exactly confusing, it was just a true honest representation of who she was and he didn't even know her. She hadn't even written her name on the cover. He guessed that was because she had never had any intention of losing it. He would continue reading it though, until he could remember to text her and tell her that he had it.