Dear X,

Melly has been basically yelling at me for the past two hours. She doesn’t like the way I filled out the non-identifying information form. She says I can’t turn it in the way I filled it out. I was too sarcastic in what I wrote, she said.

“I was being honest,” I told her. I think you deserve honest, don’t you?

“You need to remember that it’s not only you who’s choosing here,” she said. “The adoptive parents have to choose you, too.”

Apparently she doesn’t think they’d choose me, if I gave them the form this way, because if I’m sarcastic maybe they’d end up with a sarcastic baby. Can’t have that, can we?

So I did the form again. I was a good girl this time. I kept it to the basics. I was boring. Generic. I said what I’m expected to say, really, and nothing more. Maybe that’s for the best. I do want them to choose me. To choose you, I mean.

But I’m going to include the original form here. The true one. So I can tell you how I really feel.

Melly also says I have to get the father to fill out the forms, too, because that’s half of the information you need, isn’t it? I’m not thrilled at the idea of talking to Dawson about it. I’ve been trying not to think about him at all. He still hasn’t called. Not that I expected him to. He doesn’t even know that I’m at Booth.

But I’ll work on getting the form to him, because Melly’s right. There’s so much I don’t know about Dawson. And so much you probably need to know.

S