100 Ways To Smile

Smile 2 - Elliot

Dear Elliot,

I promise, this was pretty much unplanned. I'm scribbling this on a page torn out from Riley's bright pink notebook (yes, I know, you'd hate it) - she doesn't even know, I asked her if I could take a pen from her bag, and then this was there, and I just had to write. Hey, Riley, sorry I took that page and left behind those little shreds of torn paper. 

I won't show this to you. Ever. 

It's totally crap.

This is this stupid school project we laughed at while sitting on your bed with that ugly Homer Simpson bedsheets your mom bought you because she thought "boys your age like it". The amount of things we laughed about with that scornful, amused look on those black-and-yellow pieces of fabric is surprisingly huge. And it includes that project on smiling Mrs Davis makes us do. For the next two months. Two goddamn months, Elliot. 

I mean, smiling? What on earth are we supposed to do two whole months? Just with smiling?! 

I guess this thing here is the answer. 

You just had to appear in this. You make me smile every day, including today, when you walked towards me that morning before school with your Third Day tee-shirt and those huge black earphones with loud music blasting out of them that made me want to dance. I love the way you wear band tees not because everybody likes them or to appear cool - you show your love for the bands nobody else loves (or even knows) but us. 

Thank you so, so much for playing me Third Day. Seriously, they're the second best band ever. (Right after Bon Jovi.)

I know this letter is seriously dumb and all mixed up. I never think before I write. I just put my pen onto the paper and then the words flow out, in any order they want and never in the order teachers love. Mrs Davis will be so fucked off by my interpretation of the theme, but (don't tell her) I don't care. 

Hey, Mrs Davis, hell, I don't care! 

I'm actually starting to like this project. It's kind of a way to express my feelings. 

With all my love, 

Hazel xx