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Dear Rosa,
I'm sorry for not replying to your letter earlier. I just got back home now. I helped them pack and stuff all their crap in their suitcases.
(Louisa was pretty pissed at them for not having packed earlier.)
And then, I watched them leave.
It's...peculiar, I guess. On my walk back home, everything seemed...boring. The town seemed smaller. I felt caged.
When I got back home, mom gave me three packages. Apparently they bought me parting gifts and I couldn't help it. I ran up to my room and had a good cry.
That makes me sound like a wimp, doesn't it? Sigh.
Dominic's gift was a bunch of papers that had his horrible handwriting on. A bunch of recipes that he created. According to him, I'm the only privileged person to know about the recipes that will woo the world.
Robyn's gift blew me away. It's a painting of myself. I...can't describe it. It's just fucking phenomenal and damn it, when you get here you can see it.
Harper got me a book of sign language. I laughed so much when I saw it.
Any ways, school starts tomorrow. Surprisingly, I'm not nervous or anything like I usually am. I'm calm which is good, right?
I hope you're having fun. I'll tell you how my first day at school goes. Fingers crossed that I don't get a punch on my rib. That shit hurts.
Yours only,
Zed
YOU ARE READING
We The Misfits
Short StoryIn which, you have: • A monochromatic chef ("You forgot to mention hot.") • A confused artist ("I'm like the fucking Picasso in the group.") • A mute astronomer ("...") • A fragile homosexual ("With great makeup sense!") ...
