1. The First Round of Letters
June 26, 2004:
Dear Jane,
Hey. I promised I would write. How's Arcadia? New York is.. Well, it's no Maryland. We checked into our hotel last night, and my dad ran into one of his old friends. I've spent most of the time at the college art department. I ment a professer who wanted me to show him some of my work, but it's all in my shed, yo. Could you go over there and take a few pictures and send them? The adress is on the front of the envelope. Dude, my dad's dragging me off to lunch now, so I'll write more later.
-Adam.
*
June 28, 2004:
Adam:
An art professer wants to look at your pieces? That's so cool! I took a bunch of pictures, and they're attached to the back of the letter. Arcadia is -so- borning. I know summer vacation just started a few days ago, but it's not like I've got anything to do. One of my best friends is in New York and the other is in California. You're not going to be back until July 28, a month away, and Grace is coming back July 14. Well, at least you sound like you're having fun in New York. Nothing exciting going on, so I have nothing left to say. Talk to you later.
Love,
Jane.
*
June 28, 2004:
Girardi -
Send. Help. I -need- to get out of here. I never thought I would say this, but I wish I were back in Arcadia. Away from the -evil-. Last night they tried to do my hair. And put make up on me. And paint my nails... Today I caught Lana going through my clothing. She said it wasn't girly enough. I told her that was the point. Now the three evil ones are making me go shopping with them. I plan to hid out in the guest room all day. With any luck Lana, Marissa and Cristina will give up and let me spend the rest of this so called vacation rotting away in the darkness. As it should be. Girardi, I need you to send me a dozen kitchen knives, some explosives, and a -very- strong lock. And maybe a big metal cage to lock my family members in. This is one of those moments I'm certain I'm adopted. And the music! Oh the music!! If I have to listen to 'Baby, One More Time.' One more time I will cut my throat. Regardless of what they make you believe, hell doesn't have flames. It has pop music and pink clothing. Just shoot me all ready.
-Grace
June 26, 2004:
Dear Jane,
Hey. I promised I would write. How's Arcadia? New York is.. Well, it's no Maryland. We checked into our hotel last night, and my dad ran into one of his old friends. I've spent most of the time at the college art department. I ment a professer who wanted me to show him some of my work, but it's all in my shed, yo. Could you go over there and take a few pictures and send them? The adress is on the front of the envelope. Dude, my dad's dragging me off to lunch now, so I'll write more later.
-Adam.
*
June 28, 2004:
Adam:
An art professer wants to look at your pieces? That's so cool! I took a bunch of pictures, and they're attached to the back of the letter. Arcadia is -so- borning. I know summer vacation just started a few days ago, but it's not like I've got anything to do. One of my best friends is in New York and the other is in California. You're not going to be back until July 28, a month away, and Grace is coming back July 14. Well, at least you sound like you're having fun in New York. Nothing exciting going on, so I have nothing left to say. Talk to you later.
Love,
Jane.
*
June 28, 2004:
Girardi -
Send. Help. I -need- to get out of here. I never thought I would say this, but I wish I were back in Arcadia. Away from the -evil-. Last night they tried to do my hair. And put make up on me. And paint my nails... Today I caught Lana going through my clothing. She said it wasn't girly enough. I told her that was the point. Now the three evil ones are making me go shopping with them. I plan to hid out in the guest room all day. With any luck Lana, Marissa and Cristina will give up and let me spend the rest of this so called vacation rotting away in the darkness. As it should be. Girardi, I need you to send me a dozen kitchen knives, some explosives, and a -very- strong lock. And maybe a big metal cage to lock my family members in. This is one of those moments I'm certain I'm adopted. And the music! Oh the music!! If I have to listen to 'Baby, One More Time.' One more time I will cut my throat. Regardless of what they make you believe, hell doesn't have flames. It has pop music and pink clothing. Just shoot me all ready.
-Grace
