October 6th

Dear Stones,

It’s been a while. You might not know that, because you’re not actually here and I’m not actually writing you. This little realization is part of the reason why I haven’t written in this thing for the last few weeks. When the OC asked me why I stopped writing to you, I kind of spazzed and told her it was stupid to write letters to someone who isn’t here and can’t read them … or respond to them. My spazzout kind of worked because she said that I could take a break from the writing. I heard her tell my mom that I made some kind of breakthrough, and she thought the sessions were really helping me. BTW, I hate it when adults talk about you like you’re not even there.

Anyway, according to the OC, the writing break is over and I have to start up again. Only this time I can do it my way, none of the “when you left” stuff. I’m never going to tell the OC or anyone else this, but I don’t mind writing to you (for the most part). To be honest, you’re the only real friend I have right now. How pathetic is that? My only real friend is a dead friend who can’t talk to me or write me back.

So, there are a few things I should update you on. Where should I start?

Well, school still totally sucks. Nothing new there. Oh, except that Weird Girl with the pointy glasses has become my official stalker now. I see her everywhere. Or I should say, she sees me everywhere. It’s creepy. I’ll be in the hall, getting something out of my locker, and I can see her watching me from the stairs. She’s sitting on them and pretending to read a book but, every time I glance over, I can tell that she’s looking at me, not the book. Or I’ll be coming out of a class and she’ll just happen to be walking by the door when I leave. I think she knows my schedule. I know—I should be freaked out by this. And I’m not crazy—Loren has seen her, too. We were standing in the cafeteria line together and Loren was, like, “I think there’s a girl over in the corner staring at us.” When I looked, for sure it was her. I told Loren a little about the stalking stuff, which she laughed hysterically at, and then I asked her if she knew the girl and she said no, that she had never seen her before. Here’s the thing—the really strange thing: when I checked her out in the yearbook, not only did I find her (her name’s Melissa Hunter), but she’s in our grade and has been since elementary school. How can I not recognize a girl that we have gone to school with for years?

Are we all that invisible to one another?

I wonder if you knew her. Maybe a secret friend I didn’t know about? Anyway, I finally tried to talk to her, and she just turned around and walked away. At least I know she’s real and not some figment of my imagination. For a while, before Loren saw her, and before I looked her up in the yearbook, I was starting to think that I was going a little crazy. Like writing letters to my dead friend isn’t enough!

Speaking of crazy—my mom and your mom have started to become friends. And by that I mean they talk on the phone and go for coffee and stuff. I know—crazy, right?! I didn’t think they liked each other. Well, let’s be honest, my mom didn’t like your mom. But my mom doesn’t really like anyone. Sometimes, I don’t even think she likes me. No one can live up to her standards—that’s something I heard my dad yell at her once. I didn’t get it then but I do now. It’s like we’re not perfect enough for her. Nothing is ever good enough for her. Like she has this idea of what our lives should be like, and we’re not living up to it. I think she still wants me to be the little girl who danced in pink tights and went shopping with her every Saturday. I can’t help feeling that I’m not turning out the way she was hoping … whoa … off track … Oh, the OC would love this. More crap about my messed-up life to talk about. If you’re reading this, OC, just stop … my mom and I have a great relationship and everything is just fine.

Anyway, back to our moms. I’m going to keep an eye on them. It’s probably good for your mom that she has mine to talk to. I just hope my mom isn’t doing this out of pity or something. I feel like your mom has been through enough lately.

Sticks

P.S. Seriously, OC, ignore what I wrote above about my mom. It’s just normal teen / parent stuff. I’m fine. We’re fine. I do NOT want to talk about it.