Later

I GAVE THIS TO MR. SARCUSI TO READ BEFORE I SENT IT OFF TO YOU, AND HE REALLY LET ME HAVE IT.

“I WANT YOU TO TRY AGAIN,” HE SAID. “DID YOU DO THIS ON PURPOSE?”

“WHAT?” I SAID.

“WRITE ABOUT EVERYONE BUT YOURSELF?”

I DON’T KNOW. MAYBE I DID. IT’S A LOT EASIER FOR ME TO LOOK AT MOM AND SAY SHE’S GETTING BETTER, OR LOOK AT MATT AND SAY HE’S ACTING MORE NORMAL, THAN TO MAKE SENSE OF ANYTHING ABOUT MYSELF. IT’S NOT LIKE I WAS ALL FLIPPED OUT LIKE THEY WERE, SO I DON’T HAVE TO CHANGE LIKE THEY DO.

EXCEPT, I CAN SEE SOMETIMES HOW MOM AND DAD GOT MY MIND ALL MESSED UP TOO. LIKE, I’LL SEE A CUTE GUY ON THE BEACH, AND I THINK, NOW, THERE’S SOMEONE I WOULDN’T MIND DATING. BUT THEN I THINK, FORGET IT. MEN ARE JERKS. SOMETIMES I WONDER WHAT KIND OF PERSON I’D BE IF GRANMA HAD RAISED ME WITHOUT MOM AND DAD EVEN AROUND. OR IF I’D LIVED WITH NANA AND POPPY ALL MY LIFE. OR IF I’D HAD YOUR BASIC, ORDINARY PARENTS, NOT THE PRIZEFIGHTING CRAZIES I GOT. I’D BE DIFFERENT, I BET. MAYBE I’D EVEN LIVE UP TO THAT PRECIOUS “ACADEMIC POTENTAL” YOU WERE ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT, INSTEAD OF SLOGGING THROUGH SUMMER SCHOOL JUST TO GET TO JUNIOR YEAR.

BUT IT’S STUPID TO THINK ABOUT WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. WHAT HAPPENED, HAPPENED. AND I’M NOT ALWAYS SURE I’M HAPPIER NOW THAN I USED TO BE. SOMETIMES I ACTUALLY MISS THE WAY THINGS WERE LAST SPRING. I WAS HUNGRY ALL THE TIME, I WAS GOING CRAZY WORRYING ABOUT MONEY AND I WAS SCARED TO DEATH SOMEONE WOULD FIND OUT MOM WAS GONE. BUT IT’S LIKE I WAS GROWN UP. I WAS IN CHARGE. HERE, NANA AND POPPY DON’T LET ME WATCH TV UNTIL I’VE DONE MY HOMEWORK, THEY WRITE OUT A WEEKLY LIST OF CHORES FOR ME TO DO, THEY DON’T LET ME GO TO THE MALL UNLESS I I TELL THEM WHEN I’M GOING TO BE BACK—AND GOD HELP ME IF I’M NOT BACK ON TIME. COME TO THINK OF IT, THEY TREAT ME LIKE I’M NOT MUCH OLDER THAN MATT. NANA SAYS, “WE’RE JUST SETTING LIMITS BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU.” WHATEVER. IT’S STILL A PAIN.

I CAN SEE YOU, MRS. DUNPHREY, SCRUNCHING UP YOUR FACE IN THAT I’M-WORRIED-ABOUT-YOU LOOK YOU ALWAYS GAVE ME, ESPECIALLY WHEN MATT AND I WERE STAYING WITH YOU. YOU PROBABLY THINK I MIGHT RUN AWAY OR SOMETHING.

BUT DON’T WORRY. I REMEMBER THE BAD STUFF FROM LAST SPRING, TOO. I AM GOING TO GET SOME KIND OF JOB, THOUGH, SO I’VE GOT SOME MONEY OF MY OWN AGAIN. (YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE HOW MANY “HELP WANTED” SIGNS THERE ARE DOWN HERE. EVERYBODY’S HIRING. I CAN BE PICKY NOW—NO MORE BURGER BOYS!) SCHOOL’S OKAY HERE. I’VE MADE SOME FRIENDS. THERE ARE LOTS OF NEW PEOPLE, SO IT’S NOT LIKE I STICK OUT—EXCEPT THE STYLES ARE REALLY DIFFERENT HERE. NOBODY HAS BIG HAIR—IT’S ALL STRAIGHT AND LONG, BOYS’ AND GIRLS’. WEIRD.

ANYHOW, THANKS FOR THE YARN AND NOTEBOOK YOU SENT LAST WEEK. I DON’T REALLY SEE MYSELF WANTING TO CROCHET DOWN HERE. I GUESS THAT’S A GOOD SIGN. MAYBE I’LL GO BACK TO KEEPING A JOURNAL, LIKE YOU WANTED. MAYBE NOT. BUT I AM HANGING ONTO THE OLD ONE I WROTE FOR YOU. I PUT IT IN THE BACK OF MY NEW CLOSET, RIGHT UNDER MY OLD TENNIS SHOES AND THAT STUPID ORANGE AFGHAN.

—TISH