Timothy knocks on the door
the next night, later than usual.
“Homework,” he says,
handing me my books.
Then he pulls an envelope from his back pocket.
“And letter.”
I would recognize that stationery
and pretty handwriting anywhere.
“From Stacey?”
Timothy nods.
“Where did you see her?”
“I took her homework to her today.”
“So, you told her
what I said yesterday?”
“Don’t worry—I didn’t have to.
She told me to wait while she wrote this.”
I tear open the envelope
and read:
Dear Mimi,
How are you? I am fine,
and I like having another vacation.
I miss you,
but we’ll see each other again soon.
I’m glad we went to shop
and I’m glad we didn’t back down
to Mr. Sperangium
(oops, did I write that?).
And I would do it all over again.
Pinkie promise??
Love,
Stacey
“Thank you, Timothy.
That was nice of you.”
“She’s your friend,” he says,
and I say, “So are you.”