Entry 3

Went home for the weekend, Mom's "pre-Christmas check-in," which is code for "I need to inspect my daughters for signs of malnutrition and lesbianism." Not that she'd mind the latter; I think she just wants me and my sisters to have SOME kind of dating life to gossip about with her book club. Dad was in his usual spot, recliner permanently reclined, watching football through closed eyelids. He's still got that silver fox thing going-gray at the temples, strong jaw, the whole "I was definitely a catch in 1994" energy. Mom, of course, hasn't aged since I was born. Same blonde hair, same high cheekbones, same legs that go on forever. I got the height and the...assets...but my younger sister Chloe got the graceful gene. She's nineteen, curvier than mom or I, and studying fashion merchandising and making thrift store flannel look like couture. She's the only one of us still living at home. Then there's Rachel. Mom's curves, Dad's build, just made for intimidating...well, anyone. She was the captain of her high school and college's Lacrosse team, and rumor has it more than one opposing team forfeited rather than get run down by her. Thirty, corporate lawyer, sharp bob, sharper tongue. She spent most of dinner explaining why my "therapeutic journaling" was a waste of time that could be spent on "actually productive" extracurriculars. Despite being the most successful sibling, she spends nearly as much time as Chloe. Something about the drive to her law offices being better than from her apartment in the city. I brought up the NDDs over pumpkin pie. Told them about the student discount, how great my sleep has been, sort of testing the waters for how they'd be received as gifts. Rachel said she sleeps fine ("unlike some people who panic over biochem"). Chloe said "maybe" in that tone that means "absolutely not." Mom patted my hand and said it was sweet of me to think of them. Dad made a noise that might have been a yes or might have been him passing gas. Hard to tell with the recliner acoustics. Then the doorbell rang. Mom answered, and it was that neighbor kid...Danny. or, as we used to call him in high school, Creepy Danny. (we weren't the most creative back then, sue me.) He's 18, senior in high school, with these pale watery eyes that never quite meet yours, if you know what i mean. His smile somehow comes off as both disingenuous and stalkerish, if that makes sense. He asked to borrow a cup of sugar (seriously, who does that in real life?) but then he saw the NDD brochure I'd left on the counter and he just...lit up. Not in a normal way. In a hungry way.

"Neurocorp? You're getting the subscription package?"

He asked way too many questions. The student plan, the family discount, whether I was getting the "premium tier." He knew the model numbers. Who knows model numbers for a sleep aid? He mumbled something about "reddit", and "security flaws" and blah blah blah...I just didn't want him staring at my ass or tits, so I bailed. Mom gave him the sugar and ushered him out. She hasn't been big on Danny since the "peeping tom" incident. Back when he was 13 or 14, he got caught outside our house, looking in Rachel's windows. Mom chased him down and tackled him, putting him his arm in a cast. Dad then dragged him back home and while giving him the lecture about respect, all while the creep cradled his arm while crying. Rachel, today, however just said he was "clearly on the spectrum" (classic Rachel). But I don't know. The way he looked at that brochure...like he'd been waiting for someone in this neighborhood to buy one. Like it was Christmas morning and we were the presents. At least Chloe was on my side here. Called him out for looking at her tits and my ass as he was leaving. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. The therapist says I catastrophize. Back to campus tomorrow. Thank God