Letters in My Locker

Letter 2: First Clues

Hey,

Was the first chapt. good or too long? Do tell, do tell. I'd love to know which areas you like/don't like. Do tell! THanks. Thank you for choosing this to read and I do hope you vote and comment and fan!

Thanks,

Ana

P.S. Any WTAT readers this has a mention of someone from there in here. yes, it's all connected! mwahahaha.

P.P.S. HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope all of you had a great Year. 

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Okay. So maybe I was exaggerating my state of loneliness just by a little bit. 

I do have a friend. I'm not a complete loner. I just thought, you know, play the pity card, hook you in. People have friends. I have a friend. If you want more, if you want to be popular, just try and remember the friend that's been there from the start. The friend that would've hung out with you because you're the better option . . . or you know, just because they have no one else to hang out with.

All I'm saying is, I have that friend. In fact, he was lumbering over here, taking his sweet, seet time. His small, out-of-school backpack was slung lazily over his strong shoulder. He nodded his dark head of hair at me, smiling a little.

"You're in trouble if you wear that in school," I informed him, jerking my thumb at his backpack and joining his lazy stroll.

He shrugged. "I'm in Year Twelve. I have less than a year to go. They can shove their money-grabbing hands and fancy school bags up their asses," he replied. I chuckled.

"How was America with the fam?" I asked, just for sake of conversation.

Being a lone wolf (haha to Hangover) I was very good at small talk: 'How was your weekend?' 'How was your holiday?' 'How was your yesterday?' 

What can I say? I just don't have the skills of a socialist. I don't usually know people enough to strike up a conversation that actually interests them.

Derek, my friend, grunted. "The usual, you know. Ellie went crazy in Bev. Hills. Dad and mum playing at the casinos in freezing Vegas. I did visit my cousin, Steph. She just got married to some guy, Nick, last year. Already pregnant and they're only twenty-four! I would never do that. Too young, you know? Not enough living. Not enough sex!" Derek laughed racuosly.

I shook my head. Okay, I'm a guy. Of course I think about sex. Is it really good as they say? Is it really brag-worthy? I just didn't that the amount of different girls you had sex with was really living. What happened to good old bungy-jumping? Hmm?

"I met a girl there," Derek said, unknowingly interrupting my thoughts, "What a shocker she was. New York babe, you know? I write to her."

I almost stopped walking - if that's what you could call it, considering the snail pace we were going at. I recalled the letter I received and hastily threw away. "Writing? Like, letters?" 

"Yeah . . . Like, A B C D, you know the alphabet, right?" he laughed.

I playfully hit his shoulder. "No, man, like letters. As in hand-written, on paper, hand-delivered or via post letters," I said, my chatter gaining momentum.

Derek laughed again, this time he threw his head back. "Dude, no! We're in the age of technology. We don't need things like pen and paper, just good internet. We're not all romantics like you, my man," he replied, his eyebrows waggling as he peered up at me.

I don't know why, but I was kind of jealous that he could do that; make his eyebrows mimic a caterpillar's body. I mean, it was pretty damn cool.

I pushed his face away with my semi-calloused palm. "Derek, I'm going to be late for class." I was grabbing my tonne of books now. I don't know why my arms are so wiry, unlike Derek's. After years of carrying heavy-ass books you'd think they'd become stronger, you know?