Dear Little Jo,
You’re not at school today. Not surprising I guess. I had no idea about your ribs being broken when you fell off your bike in the ravine that afternoon before the party. About you being already injured before the butcherboys got to you a second time. A third time, if you count getting crushed into your locker. All in one day.
I mean I still feel bad about Dowell, about hurting him so badly. This morning someone told Bron that I broke Dowell’s nose and his wrist. And that he needed stitches in his tongue where he bit it. Those would be the official medical-treatment items, but based on my firsthand knowledge of punch-to-bruise ratios I bet Dowell is barely recognizable under all the swelling.
He’s not at school today either. If he was—when he is, in a few days or a week, maybe, tops, I think I’m going to have to say something to him. I wanted to go see him right away, at the hospital or at his house, but Bron said I should proceed with caution. Her words. She said his parents may still be on the fence about pressing charges, even if their son is a notorious bully, and if I went around there and started professing my guilt and regret, it could give them the opening they’re waiting for.
I don’t know. I still feel awful about it, but maybe I feel a tiny bit less awful knowing the butcherboys were after you not just at the party, but that whole day.
I wish I could see you, Jo. Just for a minute, just to see you looking different than last time I saw you. Did you know that you were smiling? You were floating there in the hot tub, showing me how your trousers were getting ruined by the water. I mean I didn’t understand what you were saying at the time. Your words were all garbled together. Your eye was swelling shut where the belt had smacked it.
I was just coming around, coming back to myself. And I thought at first maybe I’d done that to you, that swollen eye. I mean for a few minutes there I honestly wasn’t sure. It’s not perfect. I’m aware it wasn’t perfect, me gapping out like that in the middle of a massive temper blowup. It still freaks me out pretty badly, remembering it.
And you were floating in the water, trying to lift your knees to show me your trousers. Grinning at me like some kind of nightmare.
Jo. I wish I could see you. I wish at least I’d had the guts to get out of the car with Bron so I could have seen your face in your window.
Sincerely,
AK