August 29, 1992

Dear friend,

You remeber me, right? I've written to you before. My name is Charlie. Now you remember me I hope. You're that person who didn't sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. I hope you are doing fine. I hope your school year started well. Mine was bittersweet but I'm not sure what I expected especially with Sam and Patrick gone. I told you, I probably wouldn't be writing anymore letters after my last one because of "participation" but I realized how much I missed you. Maybe that doesn't make sense because you aren't physically here with me and I can't miss you but I guess I miss the feeling of writing to someone who cares. Sam wrote to me last week. It was a small pink papered note that smelt like lavender. Her letter was taped to a rectangular box that was just sitting on our doorstep when I got home from the first day of being a sophomore.

Inside the box there was a record, a tape, and a brand new copy of This Side Of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald. The record was one that really good.. Sam's note was very nice. She told me how the tape held songs that we had listened to together. She also said how she didn't wanted me to stop now. She wrote about how she wants me to pass the songs down to the new friends I might make this year. Songs like "MLK" and "BlackBird" and "Landslide" were on the tape along with songs like "Pearly Dew Drops" and "Broken Wings". I felt very happy because Patrick must have told her about that last song. Only he knows about that night. The record that I received was "The Queen Is Dead" by The Smiths. Sam wrote a small portion of the letter about how the book she bought me was the book that was my favorite at the time that we first met. I really appreciated their gifts. I almost thought about writing back. Almost.

I think that you deserve an explanation on why I am back and writing to you.

I said that I would be busy but that was before I realized how much free time I have now. I miss it. I miss everything. Going to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Going to the Big Boy. Going to Bob's house. Seeing everyone at lunch. I need a firm steady ground before I really decide that I'm okay on my own. My family is so different now that my sister is gone. She left today in her boyfriend's Buick (which wasn't very good for moving.) She looked happy and inside I hope she was. Mom was standing on the porch watching my sister put the last things into the car. When my mom doesn't want to cry in public she begins to do this panicky type of crying and it almost scares me. My dad was standing behind my mom, caressing her shoulder, and telling her that it was "alright" and how they had "done such a good job" raising my sister. My sister's boyfriend loaded the rest of her boxes into it for her and started the car while she said her goodbyes. She started with me.

"I love you, Charlie." She hugged me. No kidding!

"I love you too."

"Just remember to smile and be yourself." She smiled at me and I really wished she smiled more like this because she looks so beautiful.

"I will."

She let go of me and went off to thank my parent's. My sister's boyfriend stepped out of the Buick and walked up to me. He looked very happy. I would be too if I was driving off with my sister like he got to today.

"Hello Charlie." The sun was in his eyes but that didn't cause him to lose his smile.

"Hey Erik."

"I want you to know that I really respect you and your older brother. A lot."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

"I really think that your sister is the one."

I wasn't sure exactly what he was getting at but I wasn't sure how to guide this conversation at all so I just let him keep talking.

"Oh."

"I just want to know if you think I deserve your hand in marriage."

"Uh, my dad is normally the person you ask these things…"

"I know, but I just wanted to know if you thought maybe I have a chance."

I had no idea what to think. This was my sister. I haven't see her incredibly happy with this boy. Not like her old boyfriend did. But he is out of the picture. I just want my sister to be happy. I just gave him a nod and smiled at him. He seemed to like this answer a lot because right after he hugged me. No kidding! Twice! He said that my brother and I represented the family very well and my father is doing everything right. I've never had someone kiss up to me so much in my life. I didn't like it so much. The sun was so bright and the birds were so quiet that if I closed my eyes I could feel things that aren't possible to feel. At least not this late in the at night. Today at school was so different. Even though I missed five people it felt like half the school was missing. I saw Bill in the hallway this morning, greeting freshman's into his classroom.

"Charlie, you look great!" His voice sounded really foreign to me.

"Thank you, sir. I feel great." Why do I lie so much?

"Hey, just because I'm not your teacher doesn't mean you can't call me by my name, Sinatra." He grinned at me and my chest.

I almost forgot that I was wearing the suit Patrick had gotten me for Secret Santa.

"Sorry."

His smiled looked pitiful and I couldn't stand it.

"I hope you read some good books this summer. My wife wanted to offer getting you a library card so that you don't have to wait for me to give you more. I wanted to check with you before I did. I hope that's okay."

My Dad always tells me weird things like, "If a poor boy offers to buy your lunch how would that make the boy's family feel?" None of that ever made sense to me but now it kind of did. I really wanted to turn him down because it felt like it was the right thing to do. But Bill looked so excited to do this for me.

"That would be great, Bill. Thank you so much."

"Oh, you're welcome. It's the least we could do." I wasn't really sure why he felt he had to do anything at all. After school I decided to write a thank you note to Bill's wife and buy ocean scented incense. She loves that stuff. Bill said goodbye to me and went inside that same classroom I did a year ago. That made me sick. A year ago today I saw Patrick do his impression of Mr. Callihan in shop class with the prick punch and grease pencil. I felt like walking out of school right now. I wasn't sure which way to start walking so I just headed to my first hour.

When I got in the Calculus One classroom everyone stared at me like I had just killed a puppy. They looked like they weren't sure how exactly I made it here. It was funny because I was wondering the same thing. My eyes screened the room for someone. Anyone. At all. No one. I breathed in and found a spot by the window so that I could directly look at anywhere less depressing than this empty/full classroom. The girl from my English class last year was sitting next to me but that wasn't exactly a good thing.

"Your suit makes you an even bigger faggot." She sneered and I actually smiled a polite smile. She must have not known what to do with that response because she just turned to the front again and I saw my teacher for the first time.

"My name is Mr. Alexander. This room that we all sitting in right now is for learning only. Any teenage hormones can re enter my room when they are ready to mature and grow up." I'm not sure if he knew that if he were serious we would have all gotten up and left.

I guess no one really likes Mr. Alexander because when I talked to my sister and told her about him she called him a, "pain in the ass" and a "awful teacher," because he can't keep her attention. She said it's almost impossible to get an A in his class but she thinks I can do it. I guess that made me feel better because I actually did my homework in his class.

Lunch was distracting. I sat at a table by myself and looked around at all these people who didn't really know what they were doing but made it look so easy. But before I saw it happen I spotted this girl. Her blond curls weren't easy to miss. She smiled at me. Susan Weir. Michael's girl. Her gaze was distant but she looked at me and her lips curved up into a smile. I waved back and she waved a tiny wave. That was it. That was the most humanly contact I received today, besides Bill. I do hope that Susan and I talk again because I really do wonder why she's playing dumb like this. Boys don't like that. At least not smart ones. I miss talking to people. I miss knowing people. I miss not being the "new kid" even though you've been with these people for 9 months and no one has noticed me yet. I have to go to bed now. My homework in Art Class isn't finished. I know! Art Class! I hope you had a better first day than mine.

Love Always, Charlie.