Half Of Bravery Is Perspective.

I Try To Catch My Breath And Calm Myself Down, But It Isn't Easy. I Was Dead. I Was Dead, And Then I Wasn't, And Why? Because Of Peter? Peter? I Stare At Him. He Still Looks So Innocent, Despite All That He Has Done To Prove That He Is Not. His Hair Lies Smooth Against His Head, Shiny And Dark, Like We Didn't Just Run For A Mile At Full Speed. His Round Eyes Scan The Stairwell And Then Rest On My Face. "what?" He Says. "why Are You Looking At Me Like That?" " How Did You Do It?" I Say.

Do It Fast, You Pansycake.

His Fingers Leave Streaks Of Cold On My Skin, Invisible To The Eye, And I Think About Wrapping His Shirt Around My Fist And Pulling Him In To Kiss Me; I Think About Pressing Myself Against Him, But I Can't, Because All Our Secrets Would Keep A Space Between Us.

I'm Going To Stop A Revolution,'' I Say. I Turn Right, And Peter Follows Me.

Eric Walks Toward Me, And I Back Away By Instinct. I Try Not To Be Afraid Of Him, But I Know How Smart He Is And That If I’m Not Careful He’ll Notice That I Keep Staring At Her, And That Will Be My Undoing.