Chapter 22

Heather’s Letters Blog Entry

Draft: October 1st

I can’t believe how much Adam has changed. I haven’t seen him much around school, and I haven’t been to a football game at all this year. But I’d heard all about how awesome Adam is on the field. I’d read accounts in the newspapers, too. I have to admit I’ve clipped articles that mention him. I keep them in my drawer, and I read them sometimes before bed. I just assumed he was happy with his new life without me. But when I saw him today in the principal’s office, Adam wasn’t the confident athlete I expected. Instead, he had a pale, sickly aura about him—like the very room was draining energy from him. He was always grabbing his stomach, and rubbing his arms, too. And I saw his lips trembling. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with me.

Now that I think about it, Burton was different, too. Granted I tried not to look at him very closely when he was here at my house dropping off work, but still, seeing him in Principal Elders’ office today was just plain weird. I couldn’t help notice how a little part of him seemed to be enjoying the awkward conversation. And his eyes! They’ve become narrow like an animal’s. They dart from side to side as they observe each person in the room. I’ve said this before: Burton knows too much. He’s sneaky. Untrustworthy. Something about him scares me. And the fact that he’s always spending time with Adam is no comfort.

Yes, he looks different. Grimy. His hair, which used to be tinged with red, is darker now, and it hangs in greasy locks in front of his eyes. Normally clean-shaven, his face is now spotted with stubble, and a long black trench coat covers his dark clothes. I see him sometimes in the evenings, stooped over his garden. He told me he learned homeopathic cures from his late father, but I’m not so sure that’s where he picked them up. And I don’t know if “cures” is always the right word for what he does.

He showed me his garden once. One of those days I was home healing. It looks legitimate enough. The various herbs are all labeled and staked and well-tended. He has cures for anything from headache and rashes to heartburn and high cholesterol.

Or so he claims.

I don’t know what was in that tea he gave me. Or the ointment. I guess I should be thankful that he helped me, but I don’t know. There’s just something creepy about the way he stoops over the medicine. It’s like he’s too passionate about it all. Obsessive. Ever since I used up the ointment he gave me, I haven’t been talking to him. He’s so creepy. I feel too uncomfortable. I’d rather go without the ointment.

I used to feel sorry for him. He was friendless. No one ever visited, not even me. I guess in a life so devoid of human contact, my presence in his car must have impacted him more than I realized. For two years, he had been a staff writer on the school paper. His articles had always been written well, but they never interested anyone. He’d write about nutrition in the cafeteria. Or the textbook adoption process for the local school district. Or the science fair. Nothing that would earn him popularity. And I can sympathize with that, having never completely fit in myself.

During our car rides together, Burton told me about his hopes for the school paper. He’d been asking for two years to be assigned to cover sports. He hoped it would make him more popular. But the editors would never give Sports to someone like Burton. Besides, everyone wants to write for the Sports section. It was thanks to my infamous blog post that everyone got spooked. No one wanted to cover sports anymore. No one was quite sure what to say about a championship team that had its title stripped and was still under investigation.

I guess Burton’s happy now. He gets to cover Sports, putting a positive spin on things for Principal Elders. The only thing that worries me is that Burton mentioned he’d been interviewing Adam personally for the paper. I mentioned before that Burton always seems to know more than he should. Of course I can’t be sure, but I wonder if there isn’t a connection between Burton’s newfound interest in Adam and Adam’s degenerating physical state.