Letters You Will Never Read

Jackson

The year after we were friends (now mere acquaintances, since we shared no classes), I got to know Jackson, who was in my art and composition classes. He was nothing like you, except for being artistic. He was a very nice boy, never lost his temper.

I remember that as a sophomore I failed half my classes and got low letter grades in others so that I wouldn't be kicked out of school. Mom knew I had no excuse for my underachievement. I failed an essay in Composition, my favorite class, and I let Jackson read it. I was amused at the thought that if you read it, you would have laughed. The first half of the paper was good, very good. I knew I was a strong writer, but I was upset at mom for something and I trolled through the second half. The teacher didn't like it.

Jack read it and he told me, very seriously, that I was the most brilliant person he'd ever met. He hadn't read anything of mine before. He told me that all his life he'd gotten straight A's, and he wasn't half as smart as me. I've always thought the same of you, but it was flattering to hear it, especially because I could tell he meant every word.

 I ran into him at the mall today and he said we should hang out before he goes to university. He's going out of state. Following his dreams. Gave me his number.

I'll be honest... I like him. He's polite, he doesn't pry, he doesn't pity me, and he's dependable and honest. I just worry that I am too bad of a person for him. The thought makes me a little sad. I don't think anything will come of it, but we'll see. After all, I still like you a whole lot better.