"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

They were in Sierra's bedroom. Cecile's sleepovers were as routine as brushing one's teeth. Her parents never wondered if she was where she said.

"A doctor, but my dad can't afford it, so; I don't know. I want a job where I have enough money to go to the restaurant and buy outfits from a shop and not from Emmaus [charity shop]."

Sierra turned to face Cecile, "and you?"

Cecile's eyes shimmered, and her teeth appeared in the dark as she smiled, "I want to see the world."

"At the same time, you're wealthy."

"Yep, I'm rich, and my parents don't give a shit about me. At least your dad cares."

Sierra grimaced, "my dad won't even allow me to wear lipstick though I'm sixteen; he filters all the calls I get and forbids me to wear mini skirts."

Sierra was tired of her father's privacy invasion. She sometimes wished he disappeared. Conscious, his daughter was no longer a child, but a teen, the man, spied on Sierra. Mr. Lennox appeared almost everywhere Sierra went like a mother hen.

"He's watching out for you. Look at me. I've had my pierced belly poking out from this crop top, and my head has been shaved for a month now. My parents still haven't said a thing."

How ironic life was.

Sierra wanted more freedom and found herself bound by her overprotective father, and Cecile craved attention from hers.

No matter how much Cecile skipped school, caused a fight, or went home drunk, her parents remained sterile to her presence. The more time passed, the more Cecile's behavior became borderline.

Jacob advised Sierra to be with Cecile as much as possible. For him, Cecile completely lost it the day she offered to help him lose his virginity.

"What kind of husband would you like?"

Cecile laughed, "husband, what's the use of having one when there are so many men out there. I mean, how can someone wish to be with me for the rest of their life? Do you truly believe a guy can love you for life?"

"But you're dating Daniel, don'tㅡ you."

Cecile turned to face Sierra, "let me stop you right there, my dear virgin. Daniel and I are having fun; we're teens making out, and having sex is part of the joys of being teens."

Sierra's cheeks rose in a blush. Though Cecile and her talked hours about sex, amongst other things, she still had this forsaken shy reaction whenever they chatted about the subject.

"You know what?" Cecile said as she laid on her back and stared at the ceiling, "I don't need a man; my ideal guy is you. I wish you were a guy sometimes."

"Stop it, Cecile, you're making me regret inviting you to a sleepover."

Cecile turned to her side and stretched out her hands to tickle Sierra, "we could have a hot night; I haven't slept with a girl yet. Your father should be filtering me too."

The girls laughed; here they were nine years after, still besties closer than ever.

Cecile got up and went to get a pen and paper, "tell me how your ideal guy would be like, let's say, ideal husband since you want one."

Sierra sat up, "eh, I don't know. I'd like him to be good with his hands since I'm terrible with mine. I don't mind if he isn't rich, but it would be great if he had a well-paid job."

"You mean like a lawyer, doctor, scientist?"

Sierra's eyes grew big, "yeah, something like that, or a job with an artistic touch."

"How about a musician?" Cecile asked as she noted.

"No, I don't want no hobo; a music teacher would be okay."

For Sierra, it was crucial to have a balanced and secure life. She couldn't imagine herself with a guy who did not have at least a Navigo [French transportation card] in his pocket.

"Looks?"

Sierra didn't have any looks criteria. Somedays, she fancied guys with dimples, sometimes predominant nosed boys like Adrian Brody. She was sensitive to boys who made her laugh, and Sierra got along well with most, but none wanted to date her.

"I just want a tall guy."

Cecile chuckled, "oh, my dear virgin."

"Stop calling me that," Sierra said. She chucked her pillow at Cecile, who dodged while she carried on laughing.

Cecile regained her composure to say, "you know who I would marry, though, Jacob. He's the type of guy to put a lost sheep like me back on track. Why has he decided to wed the church?"

Sierra frowned even for her Jacob's choice was a mystery, "I don't know, Jacob as this unconquerable love for God it's unexplainable. I'm sorry, Cecile, but you are going to have to erase my brother from your list."

"Alright, fair enough, why is it always the good ones that go? If they're not taken, they're either gay or committed to God."

"Oh, Cecile, don't be such a fatalist. There are plenty of good men out there. I'm sure of it. One day you'll meet a nice guy that will love you and your basket full of trouble."

"Blah, blah, blah, if you so. How about kids?"

If Sierra wanted a husband, having kids was a sensitive subject for the young lady.

Without a mother, the sixteen-year-old wondered if she could one day be a mom. Sierra watched how Jacob babysat.

Her brother cared for children so well. He even took care of her helping her with homework, listening to her dilemmas. Jacob would be a perfect parent; Sierra could barely boil an egg.

She was as clumsy as one could get; taking care of herself was a hassle. She would have died a thousand deaths if Cecile wasn't there to stop her from crossing at a red light or from bumping into lampposts.

Sierra shrugged, "I don't know about kids."

"I might not want a husband, but I want kids, loads, like Angelina Jolie," Cecile answered.

The statement made Sierra's eyes blink like car warning signs, "but you don't want to get married."

"That's our church girl talking; I don't mind being a single mom."

"Cecile, that's hard."

"Your father is doing a good job raising you."

"My dad didn't wish to be a single dad, and you know how he struggles."

"Well, I'll have kids anyway, and my first child's name will be Sierra."

At this moment, Sierra realized Cecile hadn't stopped writing since the conversation began.

Sierra's eye widened, "Cecile, what if it's a boy?"

"It will be Sierra still."

"That's awful, poor boy; everyone will make fun of him."

"Yeah, you're right. How about Leone?"

"Leone."

"Yeah, like Sierra Leone, the origins of your mother and your name."

"Cecile, do you truly plan on naming your son like that?"

"Yeah."

"Look."

Cecile showed Sierra the paper she scribbled. She noted all of Sierra's answers concerning her ideal guy, and on another, she wrote Leone Gauthier, son of Cecile Gaulthier.

"Have you got an envelope?"

"What for?"

For these, let's say in ten or so years, we'll open these and see if it came true."

"Okay."

"Alright."

The girls sat down and wrote all night about their dreams and expectations.

In the end, they had eight letters each, which they exchanged, becoming keepers of the other's secret.

Sierra smiled at the memory; fictional Leone was more real than ever, now.