I'm still worried about mom finding out about me beating on those three assholes. So far Squire hasn't said a thing about that night, but you never can tell with hobgoblins. I asked him what he was doing there. He told me he just happened to see me from the shadows. He is so full of shit. I know that Mr. Doyle has Squire keeping an eye on me. Imagine being babysat by a hobgoblin. That's just freaking weird.

I don't even feel safe writing this all down. Part of the deal I made with mom about this blog was that she'd never read it, but you know about parents and prying. Parents snoop. That's just what they do. I think it's got something to do with getting old. You get old and you want to see what everyone else is up to. No matter your what mom and dad tell you, they're watching.

I'm getting pretty good at keeping my own secrets. When you're little, you just open your mouth and words fall out, but being a teenager is a little like hiding in a foxhole. You keep as much of your butt covered as you can.

That street goes both ways, you know? I've got to wonder about all of those things my mother doesn't tell me. Why I'm like this, why I'm changing.

It's kind of scary to think about how many lies your parents tell you.

I sometimes get the feeling that somebody is watching me. Reading my every move, just like this blog.

Who are you out there, reading this?

Who are you really?