Halfway to Walgreen Deformos way out a sight and we run across Gwendolyn. Shes the illest dog alive. She has this tangle ass, muddy ass fur that hangs from her belly and a crooked tail and usually shes limping with a hurt paw. Bitchs eyes are more pink and gooey than mine. This dog loves Dag cuz Dag feeds it. Every time we find the yucky mutt Dag pulls out some baggie full a Better Cheddars or Triscuits. Dags the one that gave it its dumb name too. Gwendolyn? For real? Id a called it Dracula cuz that bitchs been around forever and is still kicking.
* * *
The tragic fact is Gwendolyn never lets Dag close enough to pet it. Us three are in this junked out lot that used to be a grocery and Gwendolyns hiding between a broke Big Wheel and a busted drum from like a drum kit. Dag whips out a bag a Nacho Cheese Pretzel Combos. Right away I start bugging. Combos? You serious? I woulda ate the crap outta those Combos! Combos are ideal for breakfast cuz it has pretzel, which is mostly the same as toast, and also cheese. Cheese is straight up health food.
* * *
But Dags not thinking about me. She steps real quiet and pours the bag out by the manhole. Then she backs up till Gwendolyn drags her ass out and gives it a sniff. Of course the dog decides to eat my Combos but she keeps her red eyes on Dag the whole while like shorty might shank her. The whole things dumb. Dags about to cry with emotion and Midgets holding on to my leg super tight cuz she takes after whatever Dag do. Its like all a us are watching the miracle of life or some sharkweek when all any a us are doing is watching a scabby ass mongrel snarf up my dang breakfast.
* * *
Gwendolyns busy licking the cement so Dag takes a big breath and edges close like always. Look, Ill be straight with you. Mostly I want that dog to chill. Dags been trying to pet that bitch two years now and if she really wants to put her hands on some filthy ass fur thats her personal business. Same time, though, the look on Dags face, it bothers me, yo. It does. She looks like shes in love with the stupid animal. It probably has a billion fleas and diseases. Dags got a few problems like sister Lotte being in a nuthouse but shes from Pinebluff Glenn Estates and should know better. Its like with Deformo. Even if Dag dont care about herself one bit, Midget needs protecting. Midgets a small ass child that already gets sick all the time and medicine is mad expensive, just ask Moms.
* * *
The whole situation gets me feeling a itch so I end up busting out my eight point shuriken. I wipe away my infected eye crust so I can see good and get my stance proper so I can throw real accurate and Dag gasps like Ive gone insane. Right before I throw she does like a girl and goes <No! Jody, no! Jody, dont!> Whys she got to embarrass me like that? I throw my shuriken anyway and it zings off the curb next to Gwendolyn. Scares that animal serious. Bitch runs.
* * *
For real, all I meant to do was scare it. But Dags pissed. She starts railing about how you dont throw lethal ninja objects at innocent animals and what was I thinking and am I some kinda sicko. Its too early in the dang day to get yelled at by someone thats not Robbie! So I stand tough and ask if she wants Midget to acquire rabies and have to go get needles in her stomach to get unrabied cuz thats how they do it. Dag looks like shes gonna punch me in the mouth.
* * *
She goes <Thats really why you threw it? Look at me and tell me thats really why you threw it.>
* * *
When a ho starts crowding Jody, thats when a ho needs to get owned! Now dont get me wrong. Girlfriend is right. Girlfriend knows shes right. But that doesnt matter when youre talking about pride.
* * *
So shes hollering in my grill and the itch in my head is getting itchier and the situations about to go to the next level and thats when Midget starts tugging my finger. Dang! Dang! I pull it back real quick. But Midge is just trying to give me back my eight point shuriken she rescued off the pavement. Thats some real sweet generous behavior.
* * *
I wipe my infection finger on my jean jacket and go <Thank you, little bitch> cuz back in the day Moms said you need to positive reinforce a child thats messed up like Midge. Even though Im mad at Dag I look at her and Dags looking at Midge the same way she looked at Gwendolyn. Thats all it takes for my feelings to switch up and that hot itch inside me to quit itching. The three a us are fam. You feel me? You ever had fam? Well then you know just how it goes.
How are you? I would like to respond to your many queries. Firstly, Morrissey, Johnny, Andy, and Mike the fish are fine! I detect you are distraught about them but please don’t be. They are darting around their spic-and-span fish bowl, happily gobbling the fish food I sprinkle them, and seem happy. Wait, can fish be happy, ha ha ha? In one of your letters, you said the Clinic was a fish bowl for humans. Excellent metaphor, Lotte! If that’s still true, consider adopting the upbeat attitudes of Morrissey, Johnny, Andy, and Mike, ha ha ha.
Let me progress through your other questions speedily. Here we go! Yes, I did get Mr. Cartwright for Home Room, and I see what you mean, but he’s been nice to me so far. No, sigh, I’m not even wearing a training bra. It’s just a padded sports bra, which doesn’t even have letters and numbers. Just Large, Medium, and Small, and Microscopic special made for me, ha ha ha. No, I have not seen “Deadgirl,” “Antichrist,” or “Martyrs,” but I know where you keep your Blu-Rays and I’ll check them out! Yes, Papa still keeps the stock market channel on all day, barfffff. Yes, Mama’s still considering a maid, but I think that’s unlikely since the Clinic is costing so much money.
Lotte, you wrote so many questions! It makes me laugh because when you lived here you never asked questions at all. Therefore I hate to say this, but can I answer the rest later? If I answer them all now, I’ll run out of purple ink, and you know how I love my purple ink.
You may not realize it, but I just got all your letters dumped on me at once. Is this sisterly correspondence or a novel?! That’s six months of letters—and I read them all. Mama collected them in a shoebox (for one of her mile-long high heels of course). Don’t be mad, OK? Mama explained they didn’t want your letters distracting me from schoolwork and extra-curriculars. Now, I admit I did wonder why you weren’t writing and I was getting a little upset. But everything is splendiferous now! Well, you’re still in the Clinic, but besides that, ha ha ha.
I should probably be what Papa calls a “straight shooter” and tell you that Mama and Papa are reading this letter. (Hi Mama and Papa.) That’s OK with me, and I hope it’s OK with you. I for one don’t have any deep dark secrets to share. Unless you count the thrilling news about my sports bra, ha ha ha.
Mama said I can write you for your birthday (June 6) and Christmas. These limits are to help me focus on schoolwork and extra-curriculars. It sounds sad, I know, but I think it’s working. Every time I get down in the dumps about you being all alone in the Clinic, boop! It’s time to go to an extracurricular! I have so many new ones. Let’s see, there’s Coding Club, Junior Robotics, High Voltage Dance Troupe, Future Problem Solvers, Lincoln-Douglas Debate Squad…and that’s just some of them! Anyway, I hope you’ll be home before Christmas so I won’t have to write you a letter ever again, j/k, ha ha ha.
(How are you enjoying the letter, Mama and Papa? Are you impressed I haven’t talked Lotte into doing something crazy like take the doctors and nurses hostage and make them perform Swan Lake in their underwear? Lotte, remember when Papa took us to see Swan Lake? Ugh, I can’t stand how pretty the dancers were. That’s not the kind of dancing we do in the High Voltage Dance Troupe, I can tell you that!)
Hmm, what else is going on? Things are status quo at good old Pinebluff Glenn Estates. You remember when we moved into “The Glenn” and it was about twenty houses? There must be two hundred now. I must apologetically report that the bulldozer noise, which you loved to block out with your headphones, is still an issue. At least it’s farther away now. The bulldozers look like little yellow bugs eating up the neighborhood to the south. Remember it? The roads all have color-based names, like Red Street and Blue Street, which I thought was pretty until Mama said it was because no one cared enough to think of real street names.
To be a straight shooter, I know you remember it. That’s where you got into some of your trouble. We don’t have to talk about that, Lotte. I bet you talk about it with your therapists until you’re blue in the face. At night when I’m snuggled in with Clara Bear McGrumpy, I dream of walking over to that neighborhood to find out exactly what you did, except I don’t walk there, I zoom like an insect. (Have no fear, Mama and Papa, I won’t actually do it.)
Please don’t interpret that as me asking to know the nature of your troubles. If you told me, Mama and Papa would only intercept it anyway. I only know one detail about your troubles, but it’s a detail I know very, very, very well. When I think back on finding you, I don’t remember dialing 911 or trying to get you to throw up. All I remember feeling is like I was the one about to die. I could barely move my limbs. I think it was because I was so sad. For so long I thought you were angry at us for moving to The Glenn. But it turns out you weren’t angry at all! You were lonely and scared!
Even though it’s a prudent choice not to let me visit the Clinic (hi Mama and Papa), I do wish I had Spider-Man abilities and could scale the walls and crawl into your bed like olden days, and snuggle you like Clara Bear McGrumpy. Would you even like that? Are you still not into touching people? Are you different now? Look, now I’m the one asking all the questions, ha ha ha.
I think I’m becoming different too.
I’m sorry this letter isn’t cheerier. I’m sorry it’s written on spiral notebook paper, which probably reminds you of Our Lady of Heavenly Blessing. Next time I’ll buy some decorative stationery. You said the Clinic is a beigepocalypse, and I know that was a joke, but it’s also the saddest detail I’ve heard so far. I never agreed with Mama (sorry, Mama) that your room here is too black. There’s a ton of red too if you look! Red lipstick, red nail polish, red curtains, red headphones, red skull decals, red posters, red bras, a red lightbulb in your lamp, and let’s not forget one of your fish is red, though I don’t know if it’s Morrissey, Johnny, Andy, or Mike, ha ha ha.
Well, I better wrap it up, it’s time for piano lessons. Thrilling, huh? I know you can be as stubborn as a mule, but listen to your doctors, try to make friends, and choke down as much beige food as possible, ha ha ha. Mama and Papa miss you even if they don’t say it much. What they do say all the time is how much the Clinic costs, and that’s why I’m at PS 220 now instead of Our Lady of Heavenly Blessing. Surprise! Don’t worry about me, I’ve already made pals with a kid named Jody. I think you’d like him. He sees things differently than most people, just like you.
Your little sister who misses you,
Dagmar
P.S. Oh, I almost forgot! Mama told me to say that suicide is never the answer, you can always talk to a trusted adult, there are free hotlines to call with trained counselors, you’re just depressed, some people have it much worse than you, and if you succeeded think of what it would do to your family.