David Gilman said, “Yeah, wussy boy, don’t feel bad for losing the game for us.”

Dear Dad,

Today was our last soccer game. We lost two to one. It was tied up when some super fast guy on the other team came right at me. Someone on his team passed the ball and Super Fast Guy blazed past me.

I’m pretty sure he was offsides.

Anyway, Super Fast Guy scored. We lost. The season is over. Nobody hassled me about it at the game. I mean, it wasn’t like I was the only defender on the field. Last time I checked, soccer was still a team sport. And Super Fast Guy’s shot wasn’t all that great, but our goalie, Rick Jarvis, didn’t stop it.

The bus ride back to the school was going fine, considering we lost. Then it got real quiet, you know, like it does sometimes for no reason, and Donnie Joad said, “Trevor, you shouldn’t feel bad for letting that guy score.”

I think Donnie Joad was trying to be nice, but sometimes it’s really hard to tell. It got even more quiet after that, until David Gilman said, “Yeah, wussy boy, don’t feel bad for losing the game for us.”

“Quit calling him ‘wussy boy,’” said Donnie. “Why you wanna side with Mudgett?”

“I ain’t siding with Mudgett,” said David Gilman. “Mudgett’s a fag. And Trevor’s a wussy boy.”

Then somebody called Gilman a jerk and people started pounding on each other, then laughing, Then everything suddenly melted back to normal, while I sat there in a haze. All the talking and noise kind of swirled around me while I just heard a buzzing sound.

I’m pretty sick of this whole thing. I want to go back to elementary school.

Your son,

Trevor

P.S. I included a drawing of what Gilman looks like, sort of, on the bus after a soccer game.