Michael's Letters

Chapter 1

The box of letters slammed down in front of me. Mikaylah, the head of the school newspaper, smiled a fake smile at me. “There’s a bunch more, Marie. That should keep you busy for a while.” She turned back around and walked toward Mrs. Morson, the principal. She smiled her little suck-up smile. I couldn’t wait for her to graduate.
I’d only been at Thompson High for three months; I was a freshman. I applied for the advice column for the school newspaper and got it, it was an unordinary job. Let’s just say, I mean, the students actually wrote letters instead of emailing them like they did at most schools. There was a mailbox located in the cafeteria where students could drop their letters. Every evening I had a box of letters to take home and respond to with my best advice. If I didn’t bring them all back to school the next day answered, I was in big trouble.
I had always wanted to be someone who gave advice professionally… okay, I know writing for the school isn’t professional, but it was practice. Mikaylah would give me heck if we got bad feedback. See, she was a senior that year – thank God – she would be out of my hair the next year. She acted like she owned the world, that is, when she wasn’t thinking she was the world. She thought her job was so important. Whatever.
I rolled my eyes and picked up the box. I gathered my things and walked to my locker with the box of letters underneath my arm. I stayed after school to do the newspaper, so the halls were empty. I passed Mrs. Deets’ room on my way out and saw through the window the students that were there for detention. I caught the eye of my best friend Michael, who was sitting there tapping his pen rapidly against the desktop. I stopped outside the door and smiled at him. He smiled back and then looked over at Mrs. Deets. He looked back at me and whirled his finger toward his head as if saying she were crazy. We both laughed, and I continued out the building.
I liked walking home; it gave me time to read through a few letters and think of my advice. The letters were always about the most random or insignificant topics, such as: “I don’t like the lunch at school. Should I protest?” or “My mom took away my iPod because she said my grades were dropping and I spent too much time on my music instead of studying. You think I can run away and not get caught?” or my personal favorite “My dog really ate my homework. What can I tell my teacher?” I thought, “Really, people… can we write about something real? How am I ever going to be good at giving advice if people are giving me bad questions to work with?”
But when I arrived at my house and sat down on my bed to continue reading, I found a letter that was very different from any letter I had ever read:

Dear Marie,
I have this friend who I really like. But I don’t know if she likes me. I want to ask her out, but I’m afraid she’s going to say “no.” It’s not really whether she likes me or not, I’m pretty sure she does; but I think it’s just me that’s the problem.
We’ve been friends for a long time, ever since fourth grade. But I’ve always been the one who gets made fun of in class; my height isn’t exactly average. Even though we’re not dating, people still say we’re dating, but not in a good way; they think we’re wrong for each other.
Anyway, any advice as to what I could do? Thanks.

I read over it a few more times and sighed in relief. “Finally,” I said, “a letter that has some meaning to it.”
I grabbed my laptop, opened up Microsoft Word, and started writing.


Chapter 2
I looked around the cafeteria to make sure no one was watching me. I looked around in the advice column response bin for the advice column to find my letter. I finally found the blue envelope that I had put in there. I picked it up and found a table to sit at to read it. The responses always came in the original envelope so you knew which one was yours.
I sat my tray of food down and opened the letter:

Dear Anonymous,
I think you should go for it. The worst thing that could happen is she’ll say ‘no.’ I mean, other than that, it won’t hurt your friendship. Girls have a tendency to understand things like that. As long as she isn’t in love with another person, you should definitely go for it.
But the person she might be in love with is you. You never know, she could secretly like you. But if you never ask her out… you’ll never know. Hope that helps! If you need anything else, feel free to write me back.
Marie
“Hey, you!”
I shot my letter down to my lap, hoping she didn’t realize what it was. Standing there with her tray of food was Marie. She smiled and sat down.
“You have no idea how much time I haven’t had on my hands. I’ve been so busy with the advice column. You’ll never guess what, though,” she rambled.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Okay, so I always get these stupid letters that mean nothing. But last night I finally got a real letter.”
“Really?” I asked in a melancholy tone as I poked at my potatoes.
“Yeah. It was some guy and he seemed like he really liked someone, but he was afraid to ask her out because he thought she’d be embarrassed because he said his height isn’t exactly average,” she said all in one breath and then shoved a forkful of potatoes in her mouth.
“Yeah?” I said. “He sounds interesting.” Like I really cared about who she liked… unless it was me. I mean, I’m sure a million guys had the same problem; she’d probably thrown my letter in the junk pile.
“I really think there’s more to it than what he wrote. I mean, I want a heart-pouring letter. I want something real to work with.”
“Maybe his next letter will be ‘heart-pouring,’” I said as I made quotes with my fingers.
She smiled at me. I wonder if she really does like me. Would she actually say ‘yes’ if I asked her out? Why am I so scared to be around her? I looked in her eyes and noticed the sparkle. She was beautiful. She was the girl I wanted.


Chapter 3
As I finished eating my silent lunch with Michael, I thought. “Do I like him? Does he like me?” I had liked him in fourth grade, but I didn’t know if that feeling was still there. I mean, I guess I’d thought about it a little, but I’d never dwelt on it. I looked at him; I loved the way his blond hair was almost over his eyes, it gave him and calm a subtle look; even though he wasn’t calm and subtle. He was so crazy, but lately he hadn’t been as comfortable around me as he usually was. He acted like he was nervous or something. Most of the time he was talking about funny stuff and stuff that made me laugh, but lately he’d been acting so serious. Why wasn’t he talking now?
“So…” I started as I pushed my food tray away from me.
After all that he was still poking at his potatoes. His eyes looked up but his head stayed down.
“What’s been up? I miss having you around my house lately. You’ve been in detention.” I laughed.
He chuckled.
“Hey, was that a smile?” I acted surprised. He rolled his eyes as he kept smiling. “No, really, you’ve been acting so serious lately. We need to have another movie night.”
“Not with Nick there.”
I laughed. “Especially not with popcorn or open windows. He is psycho.”
“I know, you turned around and he’s standing at the window with this psycho look on his face.”
“I screamed so loud.”
“Do you know, he came to my house that night and knocked on my window and scared the heck out of me?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. He said he left his shoes at my house, and he had them on his feet.”
We laughed as the bell rang and we stood up to walk to class.
We walked into Mrs. Redmann’s class and sat down next to each other at the table in the middle of the room. As we copied notes I just watched his hands write. My eyes traveled from his hands to his face. He was so sweet on the eyes. I did like him.

The next afternoon I went home and did the same routine—read and wrote letters. I threw all of the unnecessary letters aside and searched for a letter from that boy. Finally, I found another blue envelope like the one from his original letter. I opened it and sure enough, that was it:

Dear Marie,
I’ve been trying to take your advice, but every time I’m about to ask her the bell rings, or someone walks up, or I just get nervous and chicken out. I spend most of my afternoons getting what I deserve rather than hanging out with her like I used to. When I get around her, though, I freeze up and it’s like I don’t even know her anymore.
I wish you knew who I was, so I could just tell you something really important to your face. I’m afraid my letter will get lost or someone will take it out of the bin and you’d never know.
Secrets aren’t fun.

More juice. I then wondered who he really was. He was probably right under my nose, but I couldn’t think of anyone he could be. Maybe we could meet. I don’t know any guy who writes like this. I obviously don’t already know him; I think I would remember if I knew someone like this. I would already have fallen for him—like I’m falling for him right now.


Chapter 4
This time I decided to wait until I got home to read my letter. I sat down on my bed and opened the letter:

Dear Anonymous,
I agree, secrets aren’t fun, especially for the person who is having a secret kept from them.
You know, it may sound kind of weird, but I feel like I can trust you. I just feel like I can tell you anything. Just like my best friend Michael, I can tell him anything, and I mean anything. He’s one of the most amazing guys I’ve ever known. If we end up meeting, I’ll introduce you to him. I promise he’s such a cool guy; you seem like one, too.
Marie

It’d be a little hard to introduce me to myself; I could look in the mirror and do that. I wished she knew it was me who was writing to her, but would she be mad at me for not telling her? Or would she be happy that it was me? Or does she already know it was me?
I never used to like her—when I was little, I mean. But in fourth grade I noticed my feelings for her. Then, I didn’t know that feeling was love, I thought I just got nauseated when she came around. But I still get that feeling to this day.
I folded my letter back up and put it on my bedside table. I flipped open my cell phone and dialed her speed dial number.
“Hey,” she said when she picked up the phone.
“Hey, Marie. What are you doing?”
“Nothing really, I’ve been reading letters all afternoon. Have I told you about that guy who’s been writing me letters?”
“Yeah, you’ve told me. What about him?” I rolled my eyes. Like, do I really want to hear her obsessing over some guy I’m jealous of?
She sighed. “He’s amazing, just the way he writes to me is almost… inspiring. I don’t know why. I look for his letters everyday.”
“Why do you talk about this guy all the time?” I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
She scoffed. “He’s an awesome guy, Michael. If I like something, I talk about it.”
My heart sank. “So you like him?” I asked.
She hesitated. “I guess I do.” She was smiling; I could hear it in her voice. She really did like this guy.


Chapter 5
The next day at school, I walked up to Michael, who was standing by his locker. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he said as he avoided my eyes.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“No.”
“Liar.” I smiled. “Something is always wrong when you say there isn’t.”
“Nothing is wrong.” He took a book out of his locker.
“Then why do you sound like it?”
He finally looked at me. Even through his agitated stare, I still noticed the beauty in his eyes. “I’m tired.”
He always said that when he didn’t want to tell me what was wrong.
“Whatever… suit yourself. Bottling emotions isn’t good for you,” I said in a singsong voice.
“It’s Friday, right?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Yeah, so?”
He hesitated. “You want to go… play miniature golf tonight?”
I looked at him.
“I mean, you said yourself that we haven’t been hanging out lately… and why not go somewhere instead?” he added quickly.
I laughed. “Seriously?”
He nodded.
“Yeah… that’d be fun.”


Chapter 6
We arrived at the miniature golf course and walked up to the little shack where you bought your way in. As we walked side by side, I wanted to put my hand around hers, but resisted. There would be no excuse. We were going ‘as friends.’
“Miniature golf for two,” I said as I saw Marie reaching for her wallet in her back pocket. “Marie, don’t worry about it, I’ll pay.”
She stared at me. God, she was beautiful. “You don’t have to pay for me, Michael.”
“No, I want to.” The lady handed us out clubs and golf balls and smiled. I handed her the cash as Marie protested.
“No,” she smiled as she playfully hit me in the arm. “You really don’t have to—you can’t pay for me.”
I took her by the hand and walked away from the window. “It’s already done.” I let go. Why?
She looked at me and laughed. “Well, if you paid for me, it’s considered a date.”
I looked back at her and laughed. “Well then, I guess it’s a date.” She laughed a little as if she was flattered. I hoped she was.
We stepped up to the first hole and I stepped aside. “Ladies first,” I gestured my hand toward the course.
“Oh, geez. I haven’t done this in forever.”
She turned to the side and tried to figure out how to hold the golf club.
“Here, let me help you,” I said as I walked around to the back of her. I put my arms around her and put my hands on hers and arranged her fingers around the handle. I looked sideways at her face; she was smirking. She turned her head and looked at me. Her gaze met mine and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Comfortable?” What was I saying?
Still smiling, she bit her bottom lip. “Very.”
We were leaning in toward each other and out lips were about to touch when she suddenly turned around.
“Mommy, when is it going to be out turn to play?” We both heard a little girl say. The mother looked down at her child and put her finger to her own lip to silence her.
Marie chuckled and looked back at me. “I guess we better finish this one,” she said. I leaned in slowly to realize that she meant the hole instead of the kiss.
“Right,” I whispered to myself. I tightened my grip again and gently swung the club. The ball traveled up a small hill, through the miniature mill, and into the hole.
“Hole in one!” Marie laughed. She looked at me. “You’re pretty good at this miniature golf thing.”
I faked a laugh. I was so close.


Chapter 7
That night, we stayed at his house for a while. We sat on the porch swing attached to the ceiling in front of the house. He had his arm around me and was sitting close. “So…” he said, not knowing what to say.
I sighed.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Was I lying?
“You sure?”
I sighed again. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. It’s just… that guy. Ugh,” I grunted. “I just… don’t know how I feel about him.”
“What do you mean?” he asked with a tremble in his voice.
I looked into his eyes. “Michael, I don’t know how to say this, but… I’m not in love with you.”
He took his arm from around me and folded his hands together. “So, what was tonight?” He was getting annoyed.
“Michael, don’t be like that. I don’t know what that was about tonight, it just came, okay? It didn’t even happen. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
He stood up and started pacing in front of the swing. “So, what, you were just toying with my emotions?” His voice rose.
“Oh, come on. You know that was just a spur-of- the-moment thing.”
“Well, I didn’t think so when it happened.” We were now facing each other and arguing.
“I don’t love you that way, Michael. You’re my best friend, not my boyfriend.”
“Oh, yeah, but your secret admirer is, right?”
“Well, at least he treats me better than this.”
“Better than what? You think he won’t get mad at you when you break his heart?”
“What?” I said unbelievingly. “Break your heart? I thought this whole thing was just to hang out as friends, Michael. I didn’t plan on almost kissing you; I didn’t plan for you to hold my hand.” I paused. “And I definitely didn’t plan for this.”
“Well… then just forget this whole night, okay? Since apparently it didn’t mean even the slightest speck of anything to you.” He was walking toward his front door. “So… goodnight, Marie.” He pushed it open and walked in, closing the door behind him.
I sighed as I walked off the porch and down the street to my house. As I walked, I thought. Why did I tell him that? Of course I loved him; he was my best friend, but I wanted to be more than best friends. But he must have hated me after that. As I walked inside, I ran to my room and fell in bed, my face down in my pillow.


Chapter 8
When I walked inside I went straight to my room. I slammed my bedroom door and turned my radio up loud. How could she say that after we had such a great night together? How could she think we should only be friends?
I lay down in my bed and closed my eyes. All I could see was her and I sitting next to each other with my arm around her. How could she be in love with some guy she didn’t even know, and not be in love with me when she’s known me since the fourth grade? She had never even met him, how did she know that she was in love with him? More importantly, was our friendship over? We had never had a fight until that night, not that big of a fight anyway.
So that night, I decided to write her a letter: a letter where she wouldn’t know it was me.

The next morning when I woke up, I went to the kitchen for breakfast. As I poured batter into my Mickey Mouse Waffle Maker, I remembered what had happened the night before. I closed the top of the waffle maker and pinched myself. “Okay, it wasn’t a dream,” I said to myself. I sighed and lightly punched the counter. As I reached for a plate I tried to make myself believe that the fight wasn’t real, that she was going to walk through the front door and into my arms. I wished that the last few days had been a dream. But with my luck, they weren’t.
As I sat down at the table with my food, my cell phone vibrated the table. I dropped my fork and stared at it. Was it really ringing, or was I just imagining it was because I wanted it to ring? I blinked out of my trance and flipped it open. “Hello?” I said as I put it to my ear.
“Hey, Michael,” a mellow voice said from the other end. It didn’t sound like Marie’s normal, happy-go-lucky voice; it sounded serious.
“Hey, you’re talking to me now?” I asked sarcastically.
She ignored my stupid comment. “Look, can we talk?”
“We are now, aren’t we?”
“No, I mean go somewhere and talk… alone.”
“I guess,” I said after a minute. What kind of talking? Bad talking, good talking, screaming, fighting, what?
“Can you meet me at the park in an hour?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I-I guess.”
“Okay, see you then.” She hung up.
I closed my phone and sat it back on the table. As I shoveled down my food, I thought more about what it could be that she wanted to talk about. Knowing her, it could’ve been good or bad.


Chapter 9
I sat on a bench in the park as I waited for Michael to arrive. I’d been waiting for fifteen minutes, and he hadn’t come yet. I had begun to think he just wasn’t going to come.
I finally saw a figure in the distance coming toward me. It was him. It seemed like he was walking slow, as if he wanted to delay getting there. I wondered if I had scared him when I called him.
Suddenly, I just couldn’t wait for him anymore. I stood up and walked over to meet him. We were getting closer… and closer… until finally….
Our arms wrapped around each other in a hug. My head rested on his shoulder, and his on mine. I finally felt the warmth of his hug again; the one I had longed for since our fight.
“I’m sorry…” I whispered into his ear, my eyes tightly shut.
“No,” he said, letting out hug separate, “It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have said what I did… I don’t even know the guy.”
“You’re irresistible.” I said as I looked into his eyes.
“What?” His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.
“I couldn’t stand not talking to you. I need you more than anything…” His crystal blue eyes looked back into mind. “I can’t live without you.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.
He smiled, then opened his mouth to say something.
“Can I show you something?” I said before he could speak.
He stuttered unsurely. “Uh… sure, yeah. Of course.”


Chapter 10
We walked through the front door of Marie’s house; I hadn’t been there in forever, it seemed. It was quiet, and no one else seemed to be there. She led me back into her bedroom and stooped down and took a shoebox from underneath her bed.
“It may sound obsessive, but I made copies of his letters,” she said as she opened the box and took out the letters. She sat down on her bed and I sat next to her. “What I’m about to show you are his letters… You can’t tell anyone I showed you these… They’re supposed to be confidential.” She looked me deep in the eye.
“I promise,” I said.
She smiled and handed the letters to me. I unfolded one and set my eyes on the first two words and their handwriting:

Dear Marie…

They were my letters.
She spoke as I hesitated. “I mean, I just can’t help writing him back. He’s just…” she sat down next to me and sighed, “irresistible.”
I turned and looked her in the eyes. I decided to play along. “So, you said you like this guy?” I asked. I thought I might as well have dug information out of her while I still could.
“Well, yeah. He sounds like an amazing guy.”
“So, why are you showing me these, anyway?”
“Well, I wanted you to understand how I felt, and maybe if you actually read his letters, you would.”
“Well, you want to know what I realized about these letters?” I asked.
“What’s that” She looked me in the eyes.
I hesitated. How would I tell her that it was me she was in love with, and not some Prince Charming?
“He’s got nice handwriting…” What did I just say?
Her eyebrows furrowed in a confused way. “Uh… I guess he does, yeah.”
I couldn’t believe the guy she was in love with all along was me, and she didn’t even know it. I handed the letters back to her and smiled.
“So, do you understand now? I mean, why his letters mean so much to me?”
Why couldn’t I tell her? I just couldn’t force the words out of my mouth. “Yeah, I do. He must write exactly what he means.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Michael. I knew you’d understand.” We both stood up and she hugged me. I wrapped my arms around her, too; I didn’t want to let her go.
“I guess I should get home. My mom wanted me to cut the grass this afternoon,” I said as she let go of me. Yeah, like I really cared about getting the grass cut on time?
“Yeah, I’ll see you at school on Monday.”


Chapter 11
On Sunday I stayed home all day after morning Mass. I lay in bed for an hour or two when I got home. I didn’t know why, but I felt so melancholy all day. Ever since my fight with Michael, I felt this way even though we had made up. I felt like things would never be the same.
He was acting fishy yesterday when he read those letters. Maybe something was up. After a few hours he called me.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go have lunch today.”
“Sure. What time?”
“I was thinking we could meet at Johnny’s Cafe in twenty minutes… If you can get there.”
“Oh, yeah… Of course I can get there,” I said. “I’ll see you then.”

As I walked to the door of Johnny’s Cafe, I saw so many tables filled with people; not just any people… happy people: happy people with their happy lives and happy relationships. How unfair.
I looked around with high hopes in spotting Michael sitting at a table waiting for me. To my unpleasant surprise he wasn’t there. As most people would do, I just thought he set me up; that all he really wanted to do was make a fool out of me.
Suddenly, I felt two hands pinch my sides from behind. I squealed in fear as I turned around. It was him.
I sighed in relief. “It’s just you.”
“Just me, huh?” he smiled. “Make me feel real special.” He joked.
“Sorry, you scared me.”
He took my hands and held them loosely.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” I mentioned, not really meaning to.
“Sorry, I was sort of running late.” He apologized.
We just looked at each other for a minute awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
“Why don’t we take a walk first? It’s a little crowded in there,” Michael suggested.
“Sure, that’s fine with me,” I agreed.
He let go of one hand and kept a tight hold on the other, which made me smile. We walked down the street slowly, looking down at our feet, wondering what each other wanted to say.
“I have something to tell you…” he said nervously, trying to cover it up.
I looked over at him silently.
“I just don’t know how to tell you….” He looked back at me this time and then looked away.
“You know I’ll listen… what else am I here for?” I smiled when he looked back at me and smiled.
He sighed. “Well, first of all… I’ve been keeping something from you for… quite a while… I guess I could start off by telling you what that bit is.” He looked at me again. “You sure you want to know?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Now you got me curious. Haven’t you figured out yet that you can’t do that to me?”
He chuckled nervously. It was a minute or two before he finally said anything. “What I was hiding from you is that… I really, really… like you. I’ve liked you since the first time I laid eyes on you. You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.”
I was speechless. How was it that he had the same feelings for me as I had for him?
“And the other thing is… Those letters you showed me yesterday… I know who wrote those.”
“Really?” I said eagerly. “Who is it?”
“Me.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “What?” My heart immediately started beating faster.
He laughed it off. “Are you disappointed?”
Butterflies were attacking the inside of my stomach. “Of course not,” I turned to face him and he took hold of my other hand. I looked him in the eyes. “I’ve always liked you, too.”
“Well, that was the thing… I started to think you liked someone else… well that was before I knew it was me whose letters you were talking about.”
“But, none of that matters now, does it? Because it was you all along… and I’m glad it was.” I smiled.
He smiled right back. “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”
We stood there for a minute not saying anything, swinging our joined hands.
“So…” I finally said. “You want to grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”
He laughed. “Sure. Lunch is on me.”
We walked into the Café and sat down. After lunch we went and played miniature golf again, and we ended up spending the entire day together. Now that we knew who we really were, we wanted to spend all of our time together. You’ll just have to find out how in the next book.