Mrs. Fletcher, math troll.

Dear Dad,

Will Mudgett called me at home again last night. He told me he has been really sick. I don’t think he thought I believed him, so he said he could even bring the doctor’s note, if I wanted. I said I didn’t care. He told me he’d decided not to fight me right away. I was relieved. I almost started crying right there on the phone. Don’t tell that to anyone.

I’ve been thinking about that fight since he first brought it up, wondering if I would chicken out, if I would lose, even if he might actually stab me and I might actually die, with Misty Lee and all my friends looking on. And I thought about what you said, about how I should fight him, because that kind of stuff is part of living.

Maybe it helps a little, but man, Will Mudgett scares me so much I can’t eat.

Anyway, I went to school today, feeling more relaxed than I have since sixth grade. I saw Misty Lee and she showed me how she’d written our initials all over her book covers. M + T = L U V. It kind of creeps me out a little, but it’s kind of cool, too, in a dorky sort of way.

Will Mudgett came up and talked to me during P.E. I was standing behind the baseball backstop and he came over and stood next to me and basically repeated everything he said on the phone, about deciding not to fight me right away. He was still acting kind of cool, like he knew he freaked me out. I didn’t say a word back to him.

But he was right. He really freaked me out.

Donnie Joad was on the other side of me and after Will left he punched my shoulder and said, “Dude, how come you didn’t say anything? You acted totally gay. Now he knows you’re afraid of him!”

At lunch I sat by Misty Lee and Donnie and a few other people that I pretty much like. Donnie acted like he’d forgot all about me wimping out with Will Mudgett. Then after lunch I went to math class and Mrs. Fletcher said that we would be having a test on Monday. She listed out the kind of problems we’d be doing and the equations we were supposed to know. I felt so lost on most of them. I so don’t want to take that test. Mrs. Fletcher says I am a math idiot and she is right. If I could swap out all my math classes for English classes, I would do it in a second.

I drew a picture of Mrs. Fletcher and put it in with this letter. That’s pretty close to what she really looks like.

I think I may just stay home Monday and skip the test. I don’t feel very good anyway. But I have to go to school tomorrow, because tomorrow night I’m supposed to go with Misty Lee to this overnighter at her church and I kind of want to go. If I don’t go to school, I don’t think Mom would let me go with Misty Lee, even if her thing is at church.

I’ll keep you posted.

Your son,

Trevor

I found out why Will Mudgett was so freaked out.

Dear Dad,

We won our first game 3-2. I played at the end of the first half and the end of the second half. It was pretty cool. I felt like I did OK. No one scored when I was on the field, so I guess I didn’t screw up too bad. Mr. Schick didn’t say anything to me one way or another.

Keith had all sorts of advice for me. I should attack the ball more. I should stay between the ball and the goal. I should dribble with my head up. I should talk more. I kind of wish he’d just lie and tell me I was good, but he’s always coaching me. He probably figures you would do the same thing if you were here and he needs to be a father figure for me. He’s nice, though. He takes me to Denny’s for ice cream sundaes, because his girlfriend works there and can give us ice cream for free if her manager’s not paying attention. Talk about real boobs. She’s got them big time.

I found out why Will Mudgett was so freaked out. He asked Misty Lee to go out with him and she said no, because she liked someone else. He asked who, but Misty wouldn’t tell him. Then Misty told Sharon King the story and Sharon King told Will Mudgett that Misty liked me. And now Will Mudgett wants to kill me. I don’t mean he is mad at me. I mean he literally wants to murder me. Murder. I heard all this from Rick Jarvis.

Then Rick Jarvis says, “Are you going to?” Am I going to what? “Are you going to ask Misty Lee to go out with you? Go out where? “Go out! You know, go out.”

I don’t know. I don’t know if I even like Misty Lee. But now if I don’t ask her to go out, everyone will think I’m scared of that crazy punk, Will Mudgett. Maybe I am.

What would you do?

Rick Jarvis said that tomorrow, Misty Lee was going to sit by me at lunch. “That is the perfect time,” he said. I didn’t ask him to explain, because I know what he expects me to do. And I definitely know what Misty Lee expects me to do. Misty Lee is really popular. I can’t figure out why. And I sure can’t figure out why she likes me so much.

I bet I’m six inches taller than Will Mudgett. I bet if it came down to a real fight, I would slaughter him. Unless he stabbed me or something. He probably wouldn’t do that. He probably doesn’t even have a knife.

I have a math test on Monday. I haven’t studied for it at all. I know I should, but I haven’t. I hate the homework. I haven’t done it for the last two days and now I don’t really know what Mrs. Fletcher is talking about in class.

I’m assuming you haven’t got any of these letters. I don’t really expect you to, being that you’re dead and all. But if you got a letter from me, you’d write back, wouldn’t you? I mean, if you could. If God allowed you to and if you had a body and a pen and envelopes and stamps.

I suppose it would also require there to be a post office in the afterlife. I don’t know if there is one.

Your son,

Trevor

They seem to have grown magically over the summer.

Note to readers: This post is a bit more adult, in a Judy Blume kind of way.

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

Misty Lee said I was cute.

Dear Dad,

Today Jodi Ragg told me that Misty Lee said I was cute. This is weird, because Misty Lee is still going out with Rick Jarvis. Not that they go out. There is no going out. Where, I ask again, are they going to go? It’s not like anyone even drives and I bet you a girl would think you were a total dork if you rode over to her house on your bike.

I saw Misty Lee at lunchtime holding hands with Rick in the corner of the cafeteria, until Mrs. Edsel, our buck-toothed-but-kind-of-pretty music teacher, told them to separate. I don’t know much about girls. Heck, I didn’t even know I was supposed to like girls until last week. But it seems weird to me that the girlfriend of one guy would say that another guy is cute. We’re on the same soccer team, for goodness sake! And between you and me, he may actually be a better soccer player than I am.

It must be nice to be a grown-up and not have to worry if you’re good at soccer or not. Personally, I’m only vaguely interested in it. I mean, I like playing and all, but I don’t freak out if I miss the ball or something.

We have our first game next week, by the way. I wish you could come. But I suppose that’s pretty unlikely.

Here’s a question for you: Did you ever jump off the old marina into the water? I’m pretty sure it’s at least 40 feet up, even at high tide. Maybe 50. Or did you jump off anything like that? I’m not afraid of heights or anything. I mean, I climb the cedar tree in our front yard way up to the top where it sways back and forth when the wind blows and I’m just fine with that. But I don’t have any desire to jump off the tree. Or the marina. I just don’t want to. Is there something wrong with that?

Your son,

Trevor