know where to call, either. All this time, and I still never asked you for your phone number. I’m such a jerk.
I’m sure you heard. Dwayne, I mean Mr. Chessman said he would let you know. I hope you didn’t get in any trouble. And I hope whatever you were afraid of losing is still with you, or still yours. I hope one day you’ll explain.
I’m not proud of some of those things you’ve probably learned. But I had to explain, and I know you’ll believe me. I’m not a druggie. That weed wasn’t mine, either. It was my brother’s friend’s. He was visiting me, and he dropped it. Not that it matters. It sounds so cliché, and I laugh even now about how perfect it all is. Not a funny laugh. Nothing funny about this. But, I’ll still be okay.
I did smoke a little. It was a stupid move, I know. But I was trying to feel less alone. Maybe I wanted to fit in. Fuck, if I’m honest, peer pressure is a thing. It’s real. And I missed you. You had been gone for a week, and there was a part of me that thought maybe you’d never come back. I think maybe I thought I’d imagined you, too. Only, if I imagined you, I’d close my eyes now and you’d be here. Believe me, I’ve tried.
Anyhow, none of that matters, and I own that bad decision. I fell to peer pressure, and it kicked my ass. My mom kicked my ass, too. Owen—he won’t talk to me. Which hurts. But I know that won’t be forever. I’m sending him a letter, too.
They won’t let me make any phone calls for at least three months. My schedule here is very…rigid. It’s not military school, but I imagine it’s not far off. At least my classes aren’t boring. They aren’t quite college-level, but the work keeps me busy. I have duties every morning until seven, and I’m in class until four. We have counseling at five, and then sometimes they give us recreation. I call this place juvie, but I guess that’s not really accurate. It’s more of a reform school, part of the bargain I got. Lake Crest Boys Academy.
I should be able to start back with the Excel Program in a few months. This isn’t forever, and I’m okay. That’s what I’m really writing about. I’ve been talking about you to someone here. She’s a counselor, sort of, though, I’m not really sure how qualified she is. Don’t worry, I don’t tell her everything. Just…that you were with me, during the accident. She mentioned that you probably feel guilty about this, and I don’t want that.
I’m okay, Emma. I’ll be okay. And I’ll be home soon.
I miss you.
Andrew
Two months later
Dear Emma,
Did you get your gift? I made you something for Christmas. I get to go home for the holiday, but I don’t have a lot of time. It’s not even a full day, really. I want to visit. I hope you know that. But, I may not be allowed.
I miss hockey. I know that probably sounds selfish, but I do miss it. I’m honest with you. And as much as I miss my family, my boring routine and that shitty apartment, I miss kicking someone’s teeth in on the ice more.
They have basketball here. Owen would love it. Me…not so much. I suck to the point where I’m literally the last one picked during rec time.
A lot of these guys are real assholes. And a lot of them actually did some bad shit, but nothing really bad. Petty theft, fights, drugs—things like that. I mean, it’s reform school. They call it boy’s academy. I guess that makes it sound better.
Oh hey, I got a letter from Owen, by the way. They let me get mail. I’d love to hear from you. Please write if you have time. I get phone privileges next week for being “good.” I’ve already been offered twenty bucks to make a call for someone who doesn’t get them. I’m thinking of taking him up on it.
Anyhow, I guess I just hope you’re okay.
Andrew
Seven Months Later
Emma,
I get to come home next week.
I’m not even sure why I’m writing this to you, because I know I will have the choice to see you in person next week.
I say “choice”
I’m sure you heard. Dwayne, I mean Mr. Chessman said he would let you know. I hope you didn’t get in any trouble. And I hope whatever you were afraid of losing is still with you, or still yours. I hope one day you’ll explain.
I’m not proud of some of those things you’ve probably learned. But I had to explain, and I know you’ll believe me. I’m not a druggie. That weed wasn’t mine, either. It was my brother’s friend’s. He was visiting me, and he dropped it. Not that it matters. It sounds so cliché, and I laugh even now about how perfect it all is. Not a funny laugh. Nothing funny about this. But, I’ll still be okay.
I did smoke a little. It was a stupid move, I know. But I was trying to feel less alone. Maybe I wanted to fit in. Fuck, if I’m honest, peer pressure is a thing. It’s real. And I missed you. You had been gone for a week, and there was a part of me that thought maybe you’d never come back. I think maybe I thought I’d imagined you, too. Only, if I imagined you, I’d close my eyes now and you’d be here. Believe me, I’ve tried.
Anyhow, none of that matters, and I own that bad decision. I fell to peer pressure, and it kicked my ass. My mom kicked my ass, too. Owen—he won’t talk to me. Which hurts. But I know that won’t be forever. I’m sending him a letter, too.
They won’t let me make any phone calls for at least three months. My schedule here is very…rigid. It’s not military school, but I imagine it’s not far off. At least my classes aren’t boring. They aren’t quite college-level, but the work keeps me busy. I have duties every morning until seven, and I’m in class until four. We have counseling at five, and then sometimes they give us recreation. I call this place juvie, but I guess that’s not really accurate. It’s more of a reform school, part of the bargain I got. Lake Crest Boys Academy.
I should be able to start back with the Excel Program in a few months. This isn’t forever, and I’m okay. That’s what I’m really writing about. I’ve been talking about you to someone here. She’s a counselor, sort of, though, I’m not really sure how qualified she is. Don’t worry, I don’t tell her everything. Just…that you were with me, during the accident. She mentioned that you probably feel guilty about this, and I don’t want that.
I’m okay, Emma. I’ll be okay. And I’ll be home soon.
I miss you.
Andrew
Two months later
Dear Emma,
Did you get your gift? I made you something for Christmas. I get to go home for the holiday, but I don’t have a lot of time. It’s not even a full day, really. I want to visit. I hope you know that. But, I may not be allowed.
I miss hockey. I know that probably sounds selfish, but I do miss it. I’m honest with you. And as much as I miss my family, my boring routine and that shitty apartment, I miss kicking someone’s teeth in on the ice more.
They have basketball here. Owen would love it. Me…not so much. I suck to the point where I’m literally the last one picked during rec time.
A lot of these guys are real assholes. And a lot of them actually did some bad shit, but nothing really bad. Petty theft, fights, drugs—things like that. I mean, it’s reform school. They call it boy’s academy. I guess that makes it sound better.
Oh hey, I got a letter from Owen, by the way. They let me get mail. I’d love to hear from you. Please write if you have time. I get phone privileges next week for being “good.” I’ve already been offered twenty bucks to make a call for someone who doesn’t get them. I’m thinking of taking him up on it.
Anyhow, I guess I just hope you’re okay.
Andrew
Seven Months Later
Emma,
I get to come home next week.
I’m not even sure why I’m writing this to you, because I know I will have the choice to see you in person next week.
I say “choice”
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