about meeting him. Maybe tell her she should write another one? I could say something spilled on the letter and that’s why I had to throw it out. Tell her Oliver was interested and where to meet him. Even walk her to the parking lot? Oh, hell, what was I thinking? Put a big red bow on her head to match her shiny-ass red hair and hand her over like a gift? Um, nope.
Or I could say that I accidentally lost it. I could add that while I did lose it, I knew he definitely wasn’t interested. So, get lost, Red.
But deep down I knew, no matter what I did, that girl would come and go. Next week, both she and Oliver would be on to somebody new. Something needed to change. I thought the little extra fuel for my fantasies would be enough, but it only seemed to make me want more. I needed Oliver to know how I felt. There had to be some way to get Oliver to really see me.
And then it hit me. Of course!
I impulsively hid in one of the janitors’ closets, pulling up a milk crate to sit on. With pen and paper in hand, I started writing. I had held it all in for so long that suddenly it was just exploding out of me. I was tired of these girls always carrying on about how “cool” or “hot” Oliver was. They didn’t care for him the way I did. If he weren’t the most popular guy in school, he would have been as invisible to them as I was.
All of my feelings came bursting from the ink, resulting in a three-page letter that bordered on an epic sonnet of Shakespearean magnitude. It was beautiful. I was so proud! I was finally going to tell Oliver how I felt. But when I reached the bottom, I hesitated. I probably shouldn’t sign my name. I wasn’t sure if he’d recognize my handwriting, but if I did sign it…I imagined the life I knew slipping through my fingers.
No more pass to walk right up to him and his guy friends. No more letter deliveries. No more winking and calling me “Laney.” If he knew the letter was from me, he’d probably treat me like one of “them,” thinking I wasn’t any different.
Or…I imagined a different scenario. One where it was all left up to the powers that be. He would read the almost anonymous letter, put two and two together, and know it was from me. Maybe, he’d know it deep down in his bones…in his soul. Because we were meant to be together. He wouldn’t even need to respond to it. He would find me after school and just kiss me without saying a word.
I signed with my initials, E.C. It may have been the most ridiculous idea ever, but I was too high on hormones and desire to care. I was convinced it could work—that he’d be happy I’d written the letter and look at me differently, not just as his friend. I knew it would work. I burst out of the closet and down the hall. Oliver was making his way to his first class. I made sure to slow down and walk more casually up to him, trying to breathe and act normal.
He turned to look at me, then down to the letter in my shaking hand. “Wow. Another one already? Busy morning.”
“Yeah, but I think…I think this girl really likes you.” I smiled with a wink. “Like…really, really, you know?”
“Oh, yeah?”
“She’s…super cool.”
I knew I sounded like a babbling idiot, but I felt the need to translate my thoughts into something that more closely resembled his lingo. He had three pages of my true language and would be reading every word of it soon enough.
Oliver simply nodded and walked over to lean against his locker. I watched as he skimmed through the first page too quickly, and by the second page, he was bursting into laughter. I could see him silently mouthing through the words, sometimes regaling them a little louder for his cluster of guy friends that had gathered around.
My heart shattered. I could feel hot tears welling in the corners of my eyes. I tried to forget what I wrote, somehow rearranging the words in my head to not sound as tragic and pathetic as they actually did. But there was no taking it back. I remembered each and every word perfectly.
Sometimes the best things for us in