Brian is only kind of a loser.
Dear Dad,
Your story about the woods is still pretty much freaking me out. I’m glad you came back. It sounds awful in there. I hope you never go back. I noticed twice that you said you planned on returning. To save Julia? Don’t do it.
What have you told the others in town? Why can’t someone go back with you? I don’t think you should go alone.
You’ll be happy to know that I survived the weekend—including a completely non-eventful Valentine’s Day—with no issues. In elementary school—even in sixth grade—we exchanged valentines, which I always thought was pretty stupid, but it was still fun. Bee mine with a picture of a bee and that sort of stupidness. In junior high you don’t do anything fun. No recess and no valentines. One lousy teacher, Mr. Anders, mentioned Valentine’s Day at all. And all he did was talk about the origins of the holiday. He said that Saint Valentine was some guy who was killed for his Christian faith way back in like 200 A.D. The whole romance thing didn’t start until more than a thousand years later. That’s it. Then we went back to Washington State history and talked about the terminus of the railroad. Woohoo.
Thanks for making it such a special day, Mr. Anders!
No girls gave me any cards. I saw quite a few floating around the school, but none came my way. Donnie Joad got one from his old girlfriend, Jodi. He tore it up and threw it back at her. She ran away and started bawling.
“I was just trying to tell her I didn’t like her,” Donnie said. “I don’t know why she had to get so upset about it.”
Donnie’s kind of a dork. I think he felt pretty bad. Poor Jodi. She felt worse. In junior high, everyone gets their fair share of pain.
Brian Haase and I talked at lunch today about the stupid basketball team. Other than being with Brian, I still kind of hate basketball. Maybe that’s Mr. Schick’s evil plan. Maybe his goal as coach is to see how many kids he can get to hate the sport. Maybe he actually works for the NFL or something, and his job is to make kids hate basketball and play football instead.
Here’s a question for you. If Brian and I become friends just because we’re the worst players on the team, is that lame? Does that make me more of a loser?
Brian is only kind of a loser. He has cool parts to him, like he is totally into cars. He always has a car magazine with him and he gets mad if you bend the pages. I’m pretty sure he is actually really interested in the cars, but those magazines have some amazingly hot girls in them, with huge boobs.
Brian can recognize any car in two seconds. When we were sitting on the sidewalk in front of the school the other day, he would see a car go by and say, “2002 Mazda 3. 1.6 liter engine with a dual hemi thingamajig.” Of course, he could be making it all up, for all I know. But he sure sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.
Anyway, Brian and I talked about quitting the team to protest being left behind last Friday. But then Brian said that Mr. Schick would probably be glad that we quit. So we decided to stay on the team just to piss Mr. Schick off.
I think it’s a pretty good idea. We’ll see if he notices.
Your son,
Trevor