Dear Lili
Chops tapped the eraser rhythmically on the lined notebook paper he had carefully torn out. The eraser shavings bounced with each beat until he brushed them into the plastic trash can underneath his desk. He flipped the pencil over and pointed the worn tip to the first pink line, close enough for it to almost connect with the paper.
He poked his tongue against his cheek. So far, he had a simple "Dear Lili" written on the top deep blue line. He supposed that was better than his previous attempts, each of them now crumpled and filling his trash can to the brim stacked upon other undistinguishable garbage.
It shouldn't have been cerebral to write the letter, and he knew he was overthinking everything. But each sentence sounded cornier than the last. After writing a letter and proofreading it, he grimaced at his word choices and run-on sentences, reminded of Vernon's long-winded storytelling.
Although he was currently on his seventh attempt, his mind blanked. It was like his train of thought had been expunged when he dragged his eraser through the first sentence of the new letter. He groaned, pressing his hand to his cheek and digging his elbow into the hard wooden surface of his desk. His right leg bounced irritably, and an itch ran along his forearm until Chops finally flicked his wrist, dropping the pencil, letting it roll into his handful of guitar picks and paperclip necklaces.
He sighed. His arms dangled as he sank lower in his seat, his knees pressing into the desk. Chops glanced over his shoulder, examining his room as if it would inspire him. Nothing of interest immediately caught his attention. He noticed his guitar leaning against the white bedroom door decorated in posters of hockey players. His bed was almost perfectly made if he ignored the navy comforters threatening to slide off. And in another corner, he found his variety of hockey sticks and gear in a pile, but none of that situated the matter he wanted to tackle.
What he wanted to write wasn't typical of their exchanges. They frequently wrote to each other about their lives outside of Whispering Rock. She'd tell him redacted stories about the Motherlobe, and he'd make her laugh by recalling humorous events in his everyday life with his unique brand of wit.
Now, Lili was on an adventure. He believed she would inform him about the few details she was entitled to spare about how she helped save her father. But while he expected her letter to arrive before school started, he found himself simmering in a fit of anxiety that left him unable to properly communicate.
Chops had caught a glimpse of her face before she left camp. He saw her face twist in distress, her gaze downcast instead of firm and straight ahead. He could have sworn he even saw her lips quiver, but that might have been a trick played on him by the sunlight. While the jet had departed for places unknown, he had been tethered to his spot in the parking lot, unable to kick the hacky sack back to JT with her expression stuck in his mind and imprinted on his eyelids when he blinked.
It hadn't left him even when he returned home. Staring at the blank page, he rubbed his temples. He didn't want to cheapen the impact of his letter with jokes or seemingly endless strings of words. The discarded letters seemed disingenuous with the variety of puns or rambling, flowery sentences, and as he leered at the page, he ran his fingers through his hair.
Straightening his back, Chops gripped the pencil and pressed the lead tip to the page. It produced a deep, dark dot. He cocked his head and pursed his lips, his mind blanking again. Chops scowled, a knot forming in his spine as he hunched forward, and he let his thoughts wander back to Lili.
She wouldn't have hesitated. She said whatever was on her mind and seldom regretted it. Her conversational, emphatic sentences gripped him to the very end of the page, where she would sign her name with a doodle of a different flower. It was almost like they were in the same room, eagerly chatting in hushed tones about whatever captivated her, trickling in sarcastic quips that had him snickering under his breath.
The corners of his mouth slowly lifted while he ruminated. Although the situation seemed dire, Lili wasn't an ordinary girl. She was Lili Zanotto, an impressive girl who should have graduated out of Whispering Rock by the time she was eight or nine. She also had powerful allies in the forms of superstar Psychonauts agents dedicated to her well-being and the safety of the Grand Head. But if they weren't enough or somehow fell in battle, she could scorch her way through the vilest of psychic madmen keeping her from her father.
(Her new boyfriend, Raz, a mutual friend, also stayed by her side. Something about that made his heart sink when he remembered how she observed him with nothing short of awe sparkling in her eyes.)
Just go for it. She would, he thought, nodding to himself. Taking a breath, he let his pencil glide across the paper until the lines on both sides filled.
Chops didn't re-read it. He grabbed an already stamped and addressed envelope his dad had provided him out from underneath his notebook. Sticking the folded letter inside, Chops stood up, licked the flap, and sealed it along with his feelings.
(Lili wouldn't receive the letter until a few weeks later. Too much had happened in-between the time she flew away from camp and truly rescued her father. She needed time to process everything and let the envelope sit unopened in her bedroom. When she finally tore it open and read Chops' letter, she found herself blinking away tears, a tiny grin tugging at her lips.)
