I walk back to my room after school is over and find an envelope taped to the door. My name is printed on it, so I grab it and walk in.

"Hey, Spot," I say without looking up, strolling through the flurry of motion toward my bed. "Hey, Race." They both mumble something and fasten their belts, strolling out coolly.

I lay back against my pillow and open the envelope, pulling out the paper inside.

Specs,

I'm done trying to make you listen to me. I know it's not going to work so I guess it's better just to give up than to waste my time and energy. I figure you're going to stop reading right about here if you haven't already, but at least I'll feel better knowing I got this off my chest.

I'm sorry. I can't stress that enough. Okay? I'm sorry. That's all there is to it.

You have every right to hate me, and you have every right to never speak to me again. I totally understand. It's still going to hurt me, but I hurt you and I guess that's just karma or whatever.

What I did to you was wrong. You called me weak and you called me a coward and for a while I was really pissed off at you about it but it turns out that you were right. You were even right to nearly break my jaw like you did. I deserved it and I am both of those things you said. But you have to understand that I don't really have a choice when it comes to you. I can't afford for my father to hate me. And I can't afford for him to ship me off to a military base. There's a reason I'm here.

What pisses me off is that you became part of that reason. And I just completely blew it. I did love you. Maybe. I think. But I just don't know. Like I said, I'm confused. But like you said, I'm too scared to figure it out.

So... I'm sorry. Sorry that I hurt you and that I fucked up so badly. You can hate me if you want. But I won't hate you.

-Dutchy

I sigh and shove the letter back into its envelope. Why does he have to do this to me? It's not fair. I was doing really well and then this stupid fucking note had to come up and bite me in the ass.

Angrily, I throw the letter into a desk drawer and slam it shut. I decide to do something, anything to take my mind off of Dutchy and his damned note. I start rifling through my drawers, and during my search for distraction, I find some of Dutchy's underwear, one of his undershirts, a toothbrush I don't recognize that is also probably Dutchy's, and an issue of Seventeen he brought to cheer me up with when I was freaking out about the play.

Holding these things in my arms, I slump against the wall and slide down to the floor. I'm trying my hardest not to cry. If there's one thing my father taught me, it's that men don't cry. Even after I came out to him, he told me that if I show the slightest bit of emotion, people will only tear into me more. Since he turned out to be right, it's kind of stuck.

And I absolutely refuse to let Dutchy turn me into less of a man.

I remain like this for a few minutes, with my face in my hands, until I feel like I've finally gotten control of my head again. Standing up, I open the door and dump Dutchy's things out in the hallway. The door to Racetrack's room across the hall opens up and Mush and Blink walk out with Pie Eater.

"Hey, Specs," Mush says with a smile. That smile fades as he looks at my face. "You okay?"

I nod, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Um, what are you doing?" Blink looks down at the small pile in the hallway.

"Just getting rid of some stuff... spring cleaning, I guess you could say." I shrug.

Mush arches an eyebrow and nods slowly. "You sure you're okay, Specs?"

"Just peachy fuckin' keen." I turn to go back into my room, and the guys start heading down the hallway. "Oh, hey, Mush?"

Mush turns around. "Yeah?"

I smile a little. "I think I left my U.S. History textbook in your room... um, do you think you could make look around for it a little for me?"

He nods. "Yeah."