Rhonda and Rhett think I’m faking it. They’re right.

October 12th, 2009

Dear Dad,

 

 How do I feel about Misty Lee? Definitely not heartbroken. I guess I feel mostly confused and ripped off. I feel like a jerk for ever having asked her to go with me. I think she takes the whole thing about as seriously as choosing which TV show to watch. And I think Rick Jarvis is a jerk for asking her to go with him on the same day, but I guess he doesn’t take any of it seriously either.

 

I wish someone down here would take something seriously.

 

The one feeling that stays with me are the little hairs on her stomach.

 

And I now return to my original opinion: Misty Lee is not that cute.

 

What pisses me off even more are my friends, who sat by and watched the whole thing like it was some kind of show.

 

I guess I don’t have to worry about Will Mudgett trying to kill me anymore. I’m assuming he won’t want to kill me now. He’s hardly ever at school these days.

 

The whole world here is just one fake after another. No one means what they say, except my teachers, who say they’re going to give me bad grades and then do it. I’m almost grateful to them.

 

By the way, I stayed home from school again today. I told Mom I didn’t feel good. Rhonda and Rhett think I’m faking it. They’re right. But why should I go back?

 

Rhett said, “You’re scared of something. That’s why you’re staying home. You’re just being a pansy. Just like when you wouldn’t jump off the marina.”

 

I wish he would stop bringing that up.

 

Drew called again to tell me he is still working on answers to my questions. That’s all. He’s a pretty nice guy.

 

I felt sick to my stomach reading your description of the woman captain. She sounds like something out of a horror movie. I don’t think I would go and see her each time if she is so awful to look at. But I guess you always wonder about her. Does she have a name?

 

You stopped talking about her so that you wouldn’t give me nightmares, which made me wonder—do you have dreams? If so, what about?

 

Your son,

 

Trevor


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    Letter Off Dead is an actual transcript of letters sent between a 7th grade boy and his dead father. It covers the subjects of life and death, faith and doubt, fathers and sons.

    The textual transcript has been edited and presented here by Tom Llewellyn, a writer from Tacoma, Washington. The illustrations have been edited and presented by artist James Stowe, also from Tacoma. None of the content has anything to do with Tom's or James' beloved and very separate employers.

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