The Pen Pals
So explain to me again why we need to have an anonymous pen pal? And how was Mr. Johnson going to grade us on this assignment? Was he going to read all these e-mails we were going to send each other? This did not sound like it would be fun. I stared at the bulky computer in front of me. The computer looked so outdated. The computer I had at home had a flat monitor. This one had a huge boxy monitor. I ran my ring-covered hands along the keyboard. What to write?
Mr. Johnson had said not to reveal who you are. Well, most people in Midnight High don't know me. I'm sort of in the group called Goths. No one but our own kind and clans like skaters notice us. I wear a lot of baggy clothing, mostly black, but some gray or dark colors. My hair, regrettably enough, is a golden blonde. My mom won't let me dye my hair black like I want to. I'm trying to talk her into black stripes, like those highlights the preppy girls put in their hair, only black instead of blonde. I wear lots of black eyeliner and my very short fingernails always have black nail polish on them.
So I drummed my fingers on the keys, accidentally pressing a few keys. I pressed backspace until the accidental input was gone, and took a deep breath and typed:
Umm hey.
So what are we supposed to write here? Our innermost feelings, right?
Well, I'm not much of anybody. I have blonde hair, but that only narrows it down to about half the girls in the school, so it's not too big a clue. I'm a junior, but if I'm not mistaken, we're all supposed to have someone in our own grade. So you probably figured I was a junior.
Well, I'll share one innermost feeling with you. This program seems kind of dumb. I mean, do they really expect us to pour our hearts out to some possibly made up person?
Whatever. I guess I'll log out now, and I'll see what you have to say. See ya.
I hit send and logged out of the email site. The bell rang and my best friend Kyle Smith and I headed home. Kyle and I both have our licenses, but Kyle has a car, and I don't, so he drives me to school and back home. Today, we were heading to the skate park, because Kyle's a skater and loves to have fun on those ramps. I go and watch him, and always get mistaken for his girlfriend. He's not my boyfriend. For the record, no one is and no one ever has been. I've been single all seventeen years of my life. I have mixed feelings about getting a boyfriend. I mean, a couple of the Goth guys asked me out once or twice, but I turned them down.
I took out my phone and absently logged into the email server we were using for the program. One new message, it said. Huh, the person wrote back. I clicked on the envelope and read what the person had to say. I didn't even know the gender of my partner! Then I realized I'd told the person I was a girl, but I think Mr. Johnson said telling general things like that was okay.
Hey, there.
Blonde hair, huh? I know a lot of juniors with blonde hair. So maybe we've met. I've narrowed down the fact that you're not my best friend, because she has brown hair. Oops, is that a clue? I'm a guy, and I don't have black hair. That's all I'll tell you about my personal appearance.
I totally agree with the pouring our hearts out to random people thing. But I'm going to share this one wild desire I have. I have always wanted to dye my hair a vibrant red, but if my friends heard that they'd try and talk me out of it.
I guess I'll talk to you later,
Call me Mr. Red.
I tapped on the reply button and slid out the keyboard to my phone. Why was I so eager to respond? Maybe because I thought it was cool that he wanted to dye his hair red. Maybe it was because I was getting bored of watching Kyle.
Mr. Red,
That's actually really cool. I'd give anything to dye my hair. I have several colors I'd want to dye it, and purple is at the top of my list. I've always had a strange obsession with purple, but I stopped wearing it around sixth grade. Actually, I don't remember seeing many of the girls in our school who wear purple, so I didn't give you too big a clue. Plus, if you knew who I was, you probably wouldn't expect me to dye my hair purple. My friends honestly wouldn't care if one day I showed up with purple hair. They'd probably appreciate me more. Ugh, what I would do for some Mint ice cream from Cold Stone right now! Of course, with the mix-ins of white chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles.
Catch you later,
Lavender
P.S., that's not my real name, in case you were going to look in our yearbook for some girl named Lavender with blonde hair.
I tapped send, and looked up because Kyle had just called my name. Was he done? Were we going home now? Nope. He wanted me to watch him perform a trick. You know, you're probably thinking, "Why does she hang out with the Goths and wear all that stereotypical Goth stuff? She doesn't seem to be interested in skating!" and you know, you're sort of right. You see, back in seventh grade, I sort of transferred schools from a small private school in New York City to Midnight Middle School. I felt like I fit in better with the Goths, so I joined their clan and sort of got sucked in. I would actually love to wear cute little skirts and sweaters, rather than these floor-length black skirts with holes in them and the long sleeve tee's with the thumbholes, and of course, my oversized sweatshirt with the hood up. I even wore the hood in class.
Ding! Oh, wow, he was fast.
Lavender,
Mint with white chocolate and rainbow sprinkles? Really? I have to admit, that's actually my favorite as well. As for your friends not caring about you dying your hair, you must have some pretty awful friends that don't care what you do.
You know, sometimes I wish I were someone else. I'm not really comfortable in my clique, but I like the people I've met there, and I don't want to know what they'd do if I stopped acting the way I do and started acting the way I want to.
What about you? Are you lost in your group?
Mr. Red
I glanced up at Kyle. He didn't even notice I stopped paying attention.
Mr. Red,
Wow, we have a lot in common.
I kind of feel lost in my group too. It's not really me, but I'm so accustomed to it that I can't just quit. My best friend would hate me if I showed what I really wanted to be. He's sort of protective of me, and he's a great friend, so I wouldn't want to hurt him.
So I'm going to share my deepest secret now, and you can't tell anyone. Wait, you don't even know who I am. Still, don't go around telling people that your pen pal said this.
I feel like I'm missing something by not having a boyfriend. My best friend takes me places with him and people always mistake me for his girlfriend. I'm not, and we always deny it. And I wouldn't really want to date him. I feel like that would kill our friendship. I don't really have a crush on anyone, but there are some cute guys I've seen around that my friends would never approve of. They'd think I was a traitor.
Well, there's my deepest secret. I don't expect one from you, so you know.
Lavender
I hit send and closed the keyboard to my phone. "Belle, you ready?" Kyle asked, making me jump. I turned around. He was standing behind me. I wondered if he'd been reading my letter to Mr. Red. "Oh, yeah, of course," I said, jumping up. We got in the car and Kyle said, "So who were you texting?" "Oh, my brother. He needed help on his algebra homework," I lied. I wasn't about to tell him I was eagerly e-mailing Mr. Red, my pen pal. I had a feeling Kyle wouldn't approve of him. Well, at least I knew it wasn't Kyle, because there was no way he could write those e-mails while skating.
Kyle dropped me off at home and said, "See you Monday." I waved and headed back up to my room to see if Mr. Red had responded to my e-mail. My little brother, Vincent, sidetracked me. He's twelve. "Belle, can you help me with my homework?" he asked me. "Um no, I have to do my own," I lied, pushing past him to my room.
Once I got to my room, I logged on to my computer. Oh joy. I had two emails. I opened the older one and groaned. It was from this guy Anthony Sal. He had a crush on me.
Belle,
Hey! How are you doing? Better question: what are you doing tomorrow?
I was thinking you and I could grab a bite to eat.
Please let me know as soon as you get this.
Love,
Anthony
Ugh. I clicked delete. There was no way I was going to let him try and kiss me. I didn't want to spend even ten minutes alone with him. If I'm not mistaken, dinner usually lasts for an hour or so. He'll just email me tomorrow all panicked: "Belle did you get my email? Because I made reservations and I don't want to have to cancel them! I love you Belle!" You're probably wondering why I won't give him a chance. I mean, here I am, bitching about boyfriends and here's one possibility, right in my face. Well, besides the obvious fact that he's obsessive, and that he's one of those guys who just has a few friends but doesn't really belong to a group, he's just not my type. Sure, I don't know what my type is, but I think I'd know it when I saw it. And sure, he's really cute, but I really don't want him to be my boyfriend, ever. For example, I think Mr. Red's my type. I can't be so sure, though. I have a feeling he's not one of the Goths or skaters, or even one of the loners. I'm not sure if he's a jock or a prep, but I can't ask him, because all he'd say is "Sorry, Lavender, I can't tell you. That may give away who I am." So now why am I ignoring my other email? Maybe it's from Mr. Red!
It is.
Lavender,
Wow. Sounds like it's complex. Well, a lot of the girls in our school think I'm gay because all my friends are girls and because I've never had a girlfriend. In case you cared, I'm not. I'm straight. I haven't had a girlfriend because while I know I probably won't marry a girl I met in high school, I don't want to just go for the pretty girls who are fake, or whatever. I want to find a girl who has about 95% of the qualities I want in a girl. I mean, that's sort of hard, because I want a lot of strange things. I don't judge based on looks, but I'd really much prefer a girl who is at least sort of pretty. While I also have nothing against girls with a little extra weight, as in bigger than a size 10, I prefer girls who are sort of skinny. What about you? How would you determine if you would date a guy?
Mr. Red
I smiled a little. I guess you could say I was sort of pretty, and last I checked, I wore a size 10 in pants, but then again, they're purposely too big, so I was probably a 6 or an 8. Maybe Mr. Red would date me. I checked the calendar. Ugh, the program had just started today. I had another week to keep emailing him secretly. Maybe he'd like my personality enough to want to meet me at the end of this. I thought about what I'd say, and hit reply.
Mr. Red,
That sounds like it's hard to find. I mean, the fact that the girl has to have 95% of the qualities you like? Well, as for me, I have this guy who likes me, but I don't like him. He is sort of obsessive. Like he emailed me tonight saying he wanted to go out for dinner tomorrow. I just deleted the message. Look, sounds mean, I know. But I don't want to get his hopes up. He has no chance with me. He's not my type. But as for how I'd determine to date someone else, I'd of course look at looks. This guy's actually really good looking, but his personality is crap. I'd want a guy who's handsome, but I guess that's not exactly a requirement, he has to be really nice 24/7, or at least 99% of the time. I'd give him a few bad days. No one's perfect! He has to genuinely care about me, and if I'm not feeling well or something, he'll call or come visit and try and make me feel better. Damn, I just realized that's probably hard to find. Maybe I'll lower my standards if another guy shows interest. I think the guys my friends (who are mostly guys) would approve of are guys in one of the groups like us. But I'm planning a jailbreak, where I try and join the group I want to be in.
Talk to you later,
Lavender
As I hit send, Vincent banged on the door. "What, bitch?" I said, opening it. "I'm telling!" he said. "Vincent, what are you, six? What did you bang on my door for?" I asked. "Dinner!" he said. "I'll be right down, okay?" I said, and logged out of my email. I headed down for dinner. Ugh, I forgot. It's Friday. That means we eat pizza and watch a movie. "What's today's movie?" I said, plopping into my spot on the couch. "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory," Dad said, plugging the DVD into the player. "Ugh, but didn't we see that in theaters six years ago?" I said. I did not want to watch dancing miniscule people. "No, this is the original, from the seventies," Mom said. Even worse.
Turns out, it wasn't worse, but it was equally bad. The oompa loompas had orange faces and green hair, but they didn't look horribly tiny. When mom dismissed us, I bolted. I logged onto my email and saw a message. Yes, he'd responded.
I clicked on it. Damn it! Thanks Kyle, you couldn't have called?
Hey, I was planning on wandering the city mañana. You want to come? I'm not even going to bring my skateboard. Ok, maybe I'll bring it, but I promise I won't drag you to the skate park. I'll meet you by the mall at like 1, if you want to come. You don't even need to reply, because even if you're not coming I'll go anyway. See you, I hope.
Kyle
I hit reply. Might as well let him know I'd be there, whether he really cares or not.
Yes. Count me in. but if you so much as walk too close to a skate park, I'm heading home. See you tomorrow!
Belle
I had no idea why I hated skating so much. Maybe it's because it's not the group I belong to. I'm tired, so I check the clock. Oh, okay. 11. Not too early. I click send/receive again and nothing pops up. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow, Mr. Red.
The next day I woke up and got dressed in my favorite floor length skirt and a gray long sleeve with the thumbholes. I checked the weather on my computer, while dually checking for a note from Mr. Red. There was none. I sent him another email, saying, "Where are you?" It was supposed to be 74 degrees. Ugh, so cold! I grabbed my sweatshirt and asked Mom to drive me to the mall. "I'm meeting Kyle," I said when she stared at me. "Oh, all right," mom said.
I got to the mall, and Kyle was standing outside, his skateboard under one of his feet. We wandered the streets of Charlotte, and stopped to get an ice cream at Carvel. I got a mint chocolate chip cone. We sat outside on the bench. I saw a cute guy from school, walking a dog. I knew him to be named Andrew Evans. He was in a bunch of my classes. He had dirty blonde hair that was sort of long, only not as long as Kyle's hair, which was to his shoulders. He had stunning blue-gray eyes, and I think I was in love with him. Obvious problems included that I'd never spoken to him and he was a prep. Kyle would never let me date him.
Apparently, though, he'd socialize with Andrew. "Hey," Andrew said to us. I didn't speak. "You're Andrew Evans, right?" Kyle said. "Yeah, you're Kyle and you're Isabelle. You're in a bunch of my classes," Andrew said. "It's Belle, and yeah, I guess," I said. I reached down to pet the dog. I smiled. The dog was so cute.
"What's her name?" I asked Andrew. "Sapphire," he said. Then he looked at what we were wearing and said, "Aren't you hot? It's seventy degrees outside." "Oh, I'm fine," I said. Kyle just shrugged. He was hot, he'd told me, but all he had on under his sweatshirt was a long sleeve shirt. "Oh, okay. Well, it was nice seeing you. I'll see you in school on Monday," Andrew said, and took Sapphire with him. My head was in a fog, but it was probably just because Andrew was so cute. "You ready?" Kyle asked me, and we headed to the mall parking lot, where Kyle had parked his car.
He drove me home, and we were silent until I said, "Kyle, what would you do if I told you I was in love with a prep?" "Are you?" "Not really, but what if I was. What would you do then?" I asked. "I don't know. How about you just not fall in love with a prep and everything's good? I might be okay with it, but Lyss and Joe might not be. So just don't, okay? Make everything easier. But did I tell you? I'm going to ask Haven out on Monday," Kyle said. "Oh, okay. Good luck," I said. I knew what I'd do, though. I'd cause an uprising of our group.
When I got home, I found no messages from Mr. Red.
Sunday came, and I was just about to go to sleep, when I checked my email again and there was a message from Mr. Red.
Yes, he hadn't forgotten about me!
Lavender,
I'm sorry. I was busy this weekend. I've been thinking about this girl, but the only real problem with her is I don't know much about her. I ran into her this weekend, but I saw like 50 other students from our school at the same time, so maybe you ran into someone and it wasn't me. Who knows? Anyway, she's beautiful. She has hazel eyes, and she seems shy and sensitive. She doesn't seem like the girls I know, who go around flaunting everything they have and expect to get somewhere with it. Sure, they're pretty, some of them, but they don't have the same beauty this girl has. I'd love to tell you her name, get some advice, but maybe you know her, or something, and I don't want to risk giving myself away. She seems like the girl of my dreams. The only real problem is I'm afraid to talk to her, because she has some sort of attitude that tells me she doesn't like me. Plus, she was with some guy. He's probably her boyfriend.
I'm sorry, enough about her. So I realized I don't know too much about you. How about we share some more facts about us? As long as they don't give us away, I'll start.
I'm a junior at Midnight High. I'm a guy. I'm not gay. I play the guitar, but I don't think I'll ever make a living out of it. I secretly write poetry, and no one reads it but me. I'm not going to let anyone read it. I love dogs.
Well, time to hit the sheets. I'll talk to you soon, Lavender.
Mr. Red
Wow. It probably wasn't me, but it sounded a bit like me. I bit my lip. Did I really have an attitude? "It's not you, idiot!" I told myself. I figured I'd reply before I forgot to and he got upset. Even if he were going to sleep, or already in bed, I'd respond.
Mr. Red,
Wow, that girl sounds cool. I don't know how to judge girls. Although you said you saw like 50 other students from MHS, I ran into a guy while out with my best friend. Of course, I won't tell you his name, in case that would give me away. Or, we could have run into completely different people. I can't tell you whom I ran into, but it was a guy.
You should play the guitar for me sometime. I don't like much music that is stereotypical of my group. I like a lot of pop and rock, and some Taylor Swift.
Well, about me? I'm also a junior. I'm a girl. I secretly would love to be in a musical at school, and I actually love to sing &dance. You know, the funny thing about dogs is that I'm afraid of them. I like rabbits. I had a pet bunny once, but he died. Last year. He'd seemed so healthy the day before, then he just…died. It broke my heart.
Goodnight, Mr. Red. Good luck with your girl. I can't see why she wouldn't like you. You seem great.
Lavender.
When I woke up the next morning, it was to my computer signaling new mail. I guess I'd left my computer on last night. I rolled off the bed and put on my slippers. I clicked on the envelope, yawning.
Lavender,
I'm sorry about your pet bunny. I won't be able to check my email for a few days, so I'm thinking we can bend the rules just a bit.
Thursday night, call this number at 8 pm. I'll be waiting to hear from you. I promise we won't entirely break the rules. We're just bending them.
Mr. Red
P.S. 555-2934
I grabbed my phone and put the number in. I headed over to my closet, and bypassed my baggy pants. I found a pair of jeans that my mom had bought me in my freshman year, that I'd never worn. I pulled them on. They felt snug, but that's probably how they were supposed to fit. I'd been wearing baggy clothes for years. Then I found a black tank top, so it was still the same colors, and pulled that on.
I ran a brush through my hair and braided it, putting little bows at the end. "Isabelle?" Mom called up the stairs. "Yeah?" I called down. "Kyle's here," she said.
I pulled on a pair of black flats and grabbed my bag and phone and headed downstairs. "You look cute," Mom said. "Thanks?" I said, and opened the front door. "See you later," I said. I walked out to Kyle's car and pulled the door open. I climbed in and he said, "What the fuck are you wearing?" "Clothes, Kyle," I said. "That looks like the shit the preps wear. You expect me to walk into school with you when you look like that?" Kyle said. "Kyle, get over it. I was just trying something different. Now can you take me to school, please? Would you rather be late or me dressed strangely. You know what, don't answer that," I said. He glared at me for a good minute, then drove off.
My friend Lyss Carmichael was standing next to her on-and-off boyfriend Joe Michaels. They must have gotten back recently. They hated each other last time I saw them. They wouldn't be standing this close if they were apart. I got out of the car and pulled my sweatshirt on to cover up some of what my friends hated. "What's with those jeans? Did they shrink in the wash?" Lyss asked. I decided to play along with her stupidity. "Yeah, that's what happened," I said. "Come on, we got to get to class," Joe said, and we headed off to our different first period classes. Mine was English.
Andrew was standing near the doorway. When I walked by I thought I heard him say hi, but I didn't want to say hi if I wasn't entirely sure he said it first. I took my seat in the back. I groaned and covered my face when Anthony slid into the seat next to me. He didn't actually sit there. "What?" I asked, annoyed. "Why didn't you respond? We were supposed to go out for dinner on Saturday!" Anthony said. "Oh, we were? Well, I was busy all weekend," I said. "Oh, no. How about, well I'm busy next weekend, but how about the weekend after that? February 18, we have a date," Anthony said. "No," I said. "Well, I'm going to set it, then if you change your mind, it'll be there," he said, getting up to sit in his usual seat.
Thursday came. I was wearing my floor length skirt again because the jeans had caused too big a problem. Kyle drove me home right after school and said, "Oh, so Lyss, Joe, Haven and I are going karaoke-ing tonight. You in?" "Um, sorry, Kyle, but I can't. I'm busy," I said. "Doing what? Don't tell me you finally gave in to Anthony," he said. "No, I have a phone date with my pen pal," I said. "Oh, no, really? You actually liked that program? I found out my pen pal was Zoe Jorgensen on the third email. She kept talking about having sex with Carl Baxter. She even said Carl Baxter." "Well, I'm not sure who mine is, but he's amazing," I said. Kyle stopped outside my house and said, "Well, call me if you change your mind." "I won't. But thanks for the offer," I said, getting out.
Eight o'clock came. I waited until 8:03, then picked up my cell phone and hit send. It rang a good five times until…"Hello? Lavender?" a boy's voice said. It sounded familiar, cute, and out of breath. "Hey, yeah, that's me," I said. "I love your voice. It sounds beautiful," Mr. Red said. "Thank you." I said.
Mr. Red and I continued talking for well over an hour. He told me his favorite color was really blue, and I told him mine was secretly purple, I had just been pretending to like black for so long it grew on me. It was hard to not just tell him who I was, and see if he accepted me. We talked and talked and Mr. Red said, "I know I've heard your voice before. But I obviously haven't heard it enough to realize who you are." "I know. It's weird," I said. My obnoxious brother had to break the peace by banging on the door. "Sorry, Mr. Red, but I have to go. My brother needs me," I said. "Farewell," Mr. Red said. "Forever? I mean, will we talk again?" "Of course. I really enjoyed talking to you," Mr. Red said. "Me too," I said quietly. "We can think of this as our first date," Mr. Red said. "Huh?" "The first of many. I hope. Goodnight, Lavender," Mr. Red said and hung up. I went to my door and opened the door. "What?" I said. "I need help with math," Vincent said.
I helped my damned brother with math, and headed back to my room. I had an email! Was it from Mr. Red? Yes.
Lavender,
I love your voice, your mind, everything I know about you.
I want to see your face, I'm sure it's beautiful.
I say we meet up tomorrow afternoon: Cold Stone, 4:30.
The one in Charlotte, of course.
I'll make sure to wear something noticeably red.
Mr. Red
I immediately typed back,
It's a date! I'll wear a purple bow in my hair.
The next day, when Kyle came to pick me up, I said, "Hey do you want to do me a favor this evening?" "Oh goodness. What?" Kyle said. "I'm meeting my pen pal at Cold Stone. Can you drive me?" "Yes. I want to see what psycho dude has captured your heart," Kyle said.
I got home, and Kyle and I helped me figure out what to wear. He suggested the jeans I'd worn earlier that week but I turned them down. "I should show him me, not pretend me," I said. Contradictory, though. I kept what I had on, on and I tied a lavender bow into my hair. "You look cute with the little bow in your hair," Kyle said. We drove to Cold Stone, and there were several people wearing red. Oh goodness. I got out, with Kyle, and walked inside the store. Andrew was standing in the back corner, and Anthony was standing in the other. Anthony had red shoelaces. Uh-oh… then I looked over to where Andrew was standing. He had red in his hair, and his t-shirt was red. Which one was Mr. Red?
I turned to Kyle and said, "This is not good." "What's the problem, princess?" Kyle said. I punched him. "Ouch! Belle, what was that for?" Kyle said. On hearing my name, Anthony came over and said, "Belle! Darling, what are you doing here?"
I punched him in the gut and he collapsed. I hope he wasn't Mr. Red…
"Lavender?" I heard, and it wasn't coming from Anthony. I whipped around in that direction and saw Andrew, right there. "Hi," I said. "You're Belle," Andrew said. I thought I noticed a hint of happiness.
"Yeah, and you're Andrew," I said. "Belle, I love you. Go out with me," Andrew said. I looked at Kyle, and he shrugged. I figured that meant it was okay. "Of course," I said. Andrew pulled me into a hug, and kissed me.
Lavender and Mr. Red: the perfect couple, together forever.
Epilogue:
It is March, still junior year. I've joined the preps. Kyle and I remained friends, and Andrew and I spend as much time as possible together. He's truly my soul mate. Andrew's friend Zoe Jorgensen doesn't really like me. I think she's jealous of me. Today, I heard her talking to some of the other prep girls, who had accepted me the second Andrew introduced me. They were talking about prom. Zoe said Carl Baxter was going to ask her, she knew it. I slid into the seat next to Zoe, and Andrew took the seat next to me.
"Andrew, who are you taking?" the girl called Laura said. "Taking where?" he asked. "To junior prom!" Zoe said, annoyed. "Oh, I was going to take Belle. Who else would I take?" Andrew said.
Prom came. I had a lavender dress, just to bring back February's memories of Lavender & Mr. Red. Mom made me take pictures with Andrew. She really liked him.
So Zoe wasn't going with Carl Baxter, but she was going with Anthony Sal. Laura was going with a guy called Tommy Vintage, and the other girl, Becca, I think, was going with a guy called Evan Puff.
We got to the dance, and Zoe almost ran into Kyle, who was with Haven. Haven was wearing a dark blue dress that looked great on her. "Hi, Haven, you look very pretty," I said. Kyle turned around because he'd heard my voice. "Hey, I figured you'd show up here. Wow, you look amazing!" Kyle said. "Thank you," I said.
Mr. Red & Lavender had the time of their lives. I love Andrew Evans, and Andrew Evans loves Isabelle Lynch. We'll be together forever.