breath.
“Hi, I’m Jil ian, head cheerleader.” Flip of the hair. “I didn’t get a chance to welcome you to our wonderful school yesterday. Did you even attend yesterday?” She smiled a syrupy sweet smile.
“I was here yesterday; Travis introduced us, remember?” Her voice was equal y syrupy sweet.
“I don’t remember. I’m sorry.” Tilt of the head, fake confusion.
“Wel , it was nice talking to you, but we’re going to be late.” She turned and took my hand. I pul ed her away from the daggers shooting from Jil ‘s eyes. I was holding her hand! I’d wanted to hold her hand al day, and now I was holding her hand.
“Is this OK?” She raised our hands.
“Completely.”
I said goodbye to her at the doorway to her free period classroom and turned to go to my class. I made it to my class and found my seat. I didn’t listen to the teacher’s lecture; I just read her note over and over.
Travis,
Thank you for sharing with me. It does make me feel a little better to know that I’m not going through this alone. I’m sure there are a lot of other kids who have lost their parents, other kids who might even be in worse situations than what I am now. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Before my mom died, I enjoyed being the center of attention. I became a little spoiled. After she got sick, though, I felt guilty. Because I became so comfortable in our life and our home, I took it for granted. I didn’t appreciate my mom all the time. One time a few years ago, we fought in a department store because I wanted her to spend two hundred dollars on a pair of old-looking ripped up jeans. I told her that she was selfish, didn’t want me to be happy, and was a horrible mother. I instantly regretted it. I apologized, but something changed. The next day when I got home from my music classes, the jeans were lying on my bed. I’m actually wearing them today. I kept them because I didn’t want to forget how I made her feel. I didn’t want to ever risk taking someone that I care so deeply about for granted. I don’t really know why I’m unloading like this; I think it’s special that you and I can share these personal things.
I do want to get to know you. So I have some questions for you, in our quest of acquainting (I know it’s a big word). (1) what is your favorite color?
(2) what is your favorite kind of music? (2b) who is your favorite band? (2c) what is your favorite song? (3) what is your favorite movie? (4) what is one of your favorite childhood memories? (5) Where is your favorite place to be?
It’s just five little questions. You can ask me anything too I will tell you the truth even if it’s the brutal truth. I promise. But I think that will keep you occupied for your next note. See you soon.
-Gia
Chapter 6
A Simple Letter, the Possible Window to My Soul
Gianna
I sat in my free period, trying to start an outline for a paper analyzing one of Edgar Al en Poe’s poems. I stared at the blank piece of paper. I wondered if I was foolish for tel ing Travis about the fight I’d had with my mom. I hadn’t even told Alex about it. We were school shopping, and the tantrum I threw after she calmly refused to purchase them was awful. I was going to be a freshman, and I wanted to succeed social y as Alex had.
She’d told me not even to try them on. I’d insisted. As soon as I blurted those hurtful words I’d clamped my hands over my mouth. It was the only time she’d ever raised her voice to me. She told me to change and that we were leaving. We didn’t buy anything. The next day when I got home from my piano lessons, they were lying on my bed. They were the only thing I got for my school clothes that year instead of the two hundred dol ars worth of outfits. The lesson was learned. I didn’t pursue my popularity any further than that. Today was the first time I’d worn them since trying them on.
I made it to Art Comp and set my books down. Abby came in with a confused look on her face as she sat down
“Hi, I’m Jil ian, head cheerleader.” Flip of the hair. “I didn’t get a chance to welcome you to our wonderful school yesterday. Did you even attend yesterday?” She smiled a syrupy sweet smile.
“I was here yesterday; Travis introduced us, remember?” Her voice was equal y syrupy sweet.
“I don’t remember. I’m sorry.” Tilt of the head, fake confusion.
“Wel , it was nice talking to you, but we’re going to be late.” She turned and took my hand. I pul ed her away from the daggers shooting from Jil ‘s eyes. I was holding her hand! I’d wanted to hold her hand al day, and now I was holding her hand.
“Is this OK?” She raised our hands.
“Completely.”
I said goodbye to her at the doorway to her free period classroom and turned to go to my class. I made it to my class and found my seat. I didn’t listen to the teacher’s lecture; I just read her note over and over.
Travis,
Thank you for sharing with me. It does make me feel a little better to know that I’m not going through this alone. I’m sure there are a lot of other kids who have lost their parents, other kids who might even be in worse situations than what I am now. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Before my mom died, I enjoyed being the center of attention. I became a little spoiled. After she got sick, though, I felt guilty. Because I became so comfortable in our life and our home, I took it for granted. I didn’t appreciate my mom all the time. One time a few years ago, we fought in a department store because I wanted her to spend two hundred dollars on a pair of old-looking ripped up jeans. I told her that she was selfish, didn’t want me to be happy, and was a horrible mother. I instantly regretted it. I apologized, but something changed. The next day when I got home from my music classes, the jeans were lying on my bed. I’m actually wearing them today. I kept them because I didn’t want to forget how I made her feel. I didn’t want to ever risk taking someone that I care so deeply about for granted. I don’t really know why I’m unloading like this; I think it’s special that you and I can share these personal things.
I do want to get to know you. So I have some questions for you, in our quest of acquainting (I know it’s a big word). (1) what is your favorite color?
(2) what is your favorite kind of music? (2b) who is your favorite band? (2c) what is your favorite song? (3) what is your favorite movie? (4) what is one of your favorite childhood memories? (5) Where is your favorite place to be?
It’s just five little questions. You can ask me anything too I will tell you the truth even if it’s the brutal truth. I promise. But I think that will keep you occupied for your next note. See you soon.
-Gia
Chapter 6
A Simple Letter, the Possible Window to My Soul
Gianna
I sat in my free period, trying to start an outline for a paper analyzing one of Edgar Al en Poe’s poems. I stared at the blank piece of paper. I wondered if I was foolish for tel ing Travis about the fight I’d had with my mom. I hadn’t even told Alex about it. We were school shopping, and the tantrum I threw after she calmly refused to purchase them was awful. I was going to be a freshman, and I wanted to succeed social y as Alex had.
She’d told me not even to try them on. I’d insisted. As soon as I blurted those hurtful words I’d clamped my hands over my mouth. It was the only time she’d ever raised her voice to me. She told me to change and that we were leaving. We didn’t buy anything. The next day when I got home from my piano lessons, they were lying on my bed. They were the only thing I got for my school clothes that year instead of the two hundred dol ars worth of outfits. The lesson was learned. I didn’t pursue my popularity any further than that. Today was the first time I’d worn them since trying them on.
I made it to Art Comp and set my books down. Abby came in with a confused look on her face as she sat down
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