Hi, I’m Skylar. I’m sixteen, gay, and trapped in a high school satire where every internet trope you’ve ever read shows up with glitter and trauma. I’ve got a closeted jock crush, a cheerleader nemesis who smells like body spray and hate, and a best friend who hands out condoms like Tic Tacs. This story has locker room angst, hallway drama, and possibly a car accident that isn’t that serious but still ruins everything. It’s messy, dramatic, and honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.