In the past two days, I've both read AND watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, and this story was very largely based on Charlie's way of writing letters to a "friend." If you haven't read or watched it, I strongly recommend it. It's such a powerful story, and the film version is amazing beyond words.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this. There is no -A in this story, but I will try to follow a little bit of the same storyline that has been in the show throughout the seasons.

This is my favorite thing that I've published on here so far, so I hope you guys enjoy! :)

August 25

Dear Anonymous,

The only reason that I am writing this is so that I will receive an A+ on this project. Sure, it sounds exciting, but please do not be fooled by me or my style of writing.

"Write one to two letters a week. They can be addressed to anyone, and you can talk about anything as long as it is related to your life or your senior year. I am assigning this project so that one day, you can pull these letters out from a box and reminisce your last year of high school. I will not be reading these letters, but I will check to make sure that at least one page has been filled per week."

And with that, Mr. Fitz, the new english teacher, tossed me a blue spiral notebook. And now, I am writing this to you.

I chose to write to you because I feel like if I addressed the letters to someone I knew, they would judge me. I also feel like if I addressed these letters to a stranger, they would judge me as well. But not you. I don't think that you would judge me, but maybe it's because you don't exist. Or maybe you do exist, and I'm just out of ideas.

Anyway, back to my point. My name is Spencer Jill Hastings. I'm seventeen years old, I'm a senior, and if you didn't already know, I attend Rosewood High School. My dream school is the University of Pennsylvania.

My dad's name is Peter, and my mom's name is Veronica. They're both lawyers. Some people say that my parents are the best lawyers in the entire state of Pennsylvania. I just wish that they were the best parents in the entire state of Pennsylvania. It's not that I don't love my parents, they're just neglectful towards me at times.

For example, the summer of my freshman year, my parents announced the moment I stepped into the house on the last day of school that they were both leaving for a "business trip" in Hawaii. They kissed me goodbye, which was odd, showed me the list of emergency numbers by the fridge, which was also odd, then walked out to their cars.

They were gone for a month.

I also have an older sister named Melissa, but she lives in this apartment in Philedelphia and never comes home. She says that the city life is more exciting for her than the dull streets of Rosewood, and being home reminded her of Alison, and that made her never want to come

back. I don't blame her.

I should probably tell you a little bit about Alison. We were best friends in middle school, along with Hanna Marin, Emily Fields, and Aria Montgomery. The five of us were attached at the hip, and always did everything with each other. I think of our group friendship now as a strong clique.

Even as a middle schooler, Ali was the most powerful person I had ever met. It was hard for me to adjust to this, considering that I myself was born a leader, and we butted heads all the time. If it weren't for mine and Ali's need for power, our group would have gotten along perfectly. I thought so, anyway.

Towards the summer of eighth grade, Ali began to change. She started wearing lipstick and push-up bras and used our "clique" as excuses when she snuck out of the house to go party at Hollis College.

I always wondered how Ali never got caught with her fake ID, or how she never got busted for drinking, or how no one ever noticed that she was fourteen when everyone else was in their 20's. I think now that Ali was so domineering, even people older than her let her get by with whatever she wanted.

The first day of summer break, Ali planned a sleepover for the five of us in the barn outside of my house. Just the five of us, like old times. Or so I thought.

I caught Ali sneaking out of the barn that night. When I asked her what she was doing, she just told me to "shh" and that she would be back later. Except I didn't "shh," I followed her outside. We got into this huge fight in my backyard, and Ali stormed off to go meet her new friends.

That was the very last time I ever saw Ali. Her body was recovered a year later, and there have been no suspects in her disappearance. The cops think she was murdered, but they don't have any evidence of who committed it.

Since her disappearance, her family moved away, and people lock their doors now at night. The whole town changed when Ali went missing. Until then, everyone thought that Rosewood was a safe place to reside, where their kids could walk the streets alone and go to school dances and sleep with their cars unlocked and their windows open in the summertime. After that night, parents no longer let their kids walk to school on their own. They didn't let their kids play in the backyard after school, and they secretly memorized what their kids wore every time they left the house.

I already know that my senior year will revolve around Ali. That's just how she was, so special that she left a legacy even after she was gone. Her disappearance taught me to live life to the fullest. I could have been grabbed outside just as easily as she had, but I didn't. I think that God saved me that night, and I need to learn to live as powerfully as Ali would have.

This letter is beginning to become lengthy. Pouring my feelings out onto this paper is more relaxing than I thought. Who knows, maybe this might become my next hobby!

Oh, and just in case this "anonymous" happens to be Mr. Fitz reading when you promised us you wouldn't, I think you're hot for an English teacher.

Spencer

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