Dear Cockroach

When I’d stalled as much as I could, I started to panic. The shadows of the trees were getting longer and longer in the afternoon sun.

What was the question again? Oh yeah—what I want my life to look like a year from now.

Hmm, what I really want is to somehow win ten million bucks, live in a huge mansion far, far away from Hills Village, with a whole wing for my mom and Grandma Dotty. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about Georgia. I’d give her a job at one of my many theme parks, scraping bird poop off the benches.

But I have a feeling that’s not the kind of letter Sergeant Fish wanted.

So I just started writing. And you know what? Future Rafe wasn’t a bad person to write to. I had a feeling he knew exactly what I was trying to say.