Dear Dad,

I realized another big difference between grade school and junior high school. In junior high school, the girls have breasts. They seem to have grown magically over the summer.

Misty Lee has little ones and you can’t tell if they’re real. Definitely no bouncing. For all I know, they could just be wads of Kleenex stuffed into her bra. I wouldn’t put it past her. Daisy Reel, who Rick Jarvis says is a skank and who I carpool with three mornings a week, has serious breasts. They bounce when she walks, so I know they’re real. Daisy is the girl who tells dirtier jokes than all the boys and who Rick says has actually done it with Gabe McAllister. She talks about penises like she’s seen a few.

By the way, Daisy Reel’s mom’s car smells like pee. Daisy has a brother’s named Lee and he has some kind of bladder problem that makes him wet his pants every now and then. He’s in ninth grade and in Rhonda’s class. He’s a fat kid. Rhonda said she was sitting behind him once and actually saw a puddle form on his chair. I have no idea if that is true, but if it is, it is so gross. She says they call him Leak Reel. I’m pretty sure he’s let loose in the car a few times, because it really stinks in there. The mom is nice, though. And Lee is actually a nice guy, for a pants-wetter.

I’m hoping you don’t think I’m some kind of a perv for talking about breasts. I figure that the only advantage of writing to a dad who is dead is that I can say whatever I want, right? I mean, if you were here, I would have a hard time walking up to you and saying, “Hey Dad, how about you and me talk about breasts for a while?”

I would never in a million years ever talk to Mom about this sort of thing, for which she’s probably grateful. I don’t think she wants to talk to me about it, either.

Your son,

Trevor