The Letters

Chapter Two

As I got off the bus and started walking down the driveway, I thought about what I could write about in my letter to my Penpal. Ryan. I hoped he was actually cool. Not a total nerd or geek or something. I mean, it would be a lot more interesting to have a Penpal who didn't talk about anything except computers, or trains, or Star Trek or something. 

I walked in the front door and sat my backpack down. 

"Dad?"

No answer. He must not be home yet. Ever since my mother died when I was seven, he stays later after work. Sometimes he doesn't get home until eight o clock at night. I'm cool with it. If he's not home, he can't make me do chores or stay home from parties or keep me from doing whatever I want to do. 

I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. I skimmed my eyes over the shelves. Nothing looked particularly appetizing. I opened the freezer door. Pizza Pocket. It would have to do. I took a pepperoni one off the shelf and opened the package. I grabbed a paper plate and put the pizza pocket on it. I read the back of the package. 

"Two and a half minutes..." I was talking to myself. 

I put the plate in the microwave and typed in 2. 3. 0. I walked back over to the fridge. There was milk, orange juice, and a pepsi. I grabbed the gallon jug of milk and set it down on the counter. I opened the cupboards and grabbed a tall glass. I poured myself a glass of milk and heard the microwave beep. I put the milk away and grabbed my pizza pocket. I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. I set down my milk and grabbed the remote. I turned on the TV and channel surfed. I knew better than to eat a Pizza Pocket right after it came out of the microwave, so I don't burn my mouth. I finally stopped on 'I Almost Got Away With It'. I love basically anything on Investigation Discovery. It's by far my favorite channel. 

After a few minutes, I took a bite out of my Pizza Pocket. It was finally cool enough to eat without burning the roof of my mouth. 

"Mmmm..." I love Pizza Pockets. 

-----------------------------

6:43 pm

Ugh. I couldn't think of anything. How was I suppossed to write this?

Ok, I'll just write whatever. As long as it's spelled right and has proper grammar, it doesn't really matter, I thought to myself.

Dear Ryan,

Hi, my name is Vallerie. I'm an all A's student, my favorite color is red, and I hate school. I'm turning seventeen in a few months, I don't have a car, and my job is horribly boring. 

What's your favorite color? What's your preference on school? How old are you?

I have brown, curly hair, green eyes, and I'm five foot seven. I don't wear glasses, and I don't have braces. I live in the middle of nowhere and lead a horribly boring life.

What do you look like?

I don't play any sports. I prefer winter because I hate bugs. I'm not popular, I have about three friends.

Are you a sporty, athletic person who everyone likes, or are you more like one of those total, geeky nerds that no one likes? What's your favorite season? On a scale of one to ten, how stupid do you think this project is?

I hear my dad's truck door close. He's finally home. I look down at my letter. How on earth am I going to not fail English this semester? 

My favorite hobby is laying around doing nothing. What's yours?

I think this project is horribly stupid and boring. Hopefully you'll be a decently interesting person to write to so this project won't suck as much.

From,                                                                                                                                                                          Vallerie

That should do it. 

"Vallerie? I'm home," my dad calls up the stairs. 

"Hey dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Do we have any envelopes? We're doing this project in English and I need an envelope."

"Sure, they're in the desk drawer in the study."

"Ok, thanks dad."

I walk down the stairs and into the living room. I realize I didn't throw away my paper plate. I go to the coffee table and pick up my paper plate and milk glass. I enter the kitchen and throw away my paper plate and put my glass in the sink. If my dad seen it in the living room, he'd throw a fit. 

My dad walks over tome and gives me a hug. 

"Hey, Vallerie."

"Hey, dad."

"How was school?"

The ususal. 

"Nothing worth talking about."

I walked through the living room and into the study. I found the envelopes and went back upstairs to my room. 

"What do you want for supper?"

"I already ate," I yelled down the stairs.

I folded up my letter to Ryan and put it in the envelope. I wasn't sure what to write for the address or the return address. For the return address, I just wrote, "Vallerie, Room 220". For the 'to address', I wrote, "Ryan, Room 347". 

I looked at my phone. 8:30. Jeez, where does the time go? I had to be in bed by ten. I fell back onto my bed and sighed. I stared at my ceiling, just thinking. I'd never had a boyfriend before, I'd never had a first kiss, and no one had ever asked me out. One of my other friends currently was dating someone. No, he wasn't like, the most popular, hot guy in school. He was a really nice, smart guy who treated her well. She was a really nice girl. 

On the other hand, another of my friends was dating one of the hottest guys in school. He didn't go to our school, though. He was nice, but I had a bad feeling about him. They were always making out in the hallways. It makes me jalous sometimes, but I guess I'll find the right guy sooner or later. 

Sigh. It makes me depressed. In reality, I'll probably never get a boyfriend like either of my friends. I'll probably never get a boyfriend, period.

Enough of this depressing talk, I thought. I pulled out my phone and played Subway Surfers. I was kind of addicted to the game... When I checked the time next, it was already 9:30. I decided to stalk some people on Facebook for a while. No one interesting. I got bored and went on Instagram. Two new followers. Both were people I didn't know. One was a really cute guy, though. I followed him back. I scrolled through his pictures. He was pretty cute. He was the classic, blonde-haired-blue-eyed guy. I liked a few of his pics. There was a pic of him shirtless. He had abs. Niceee. 

Okay, I needed to get to bed. 

I walked to my closet and grabbed a pair of comfy shorts and a tank top. I grabbed a hair tie and pulled my hair into a bun. No, it wasn't like, a perfect, awesome, messy bun like in all those cliche stories or whatever. 

I walked down the hall to the bathroom and washed my face. I yelled down the stairs, "Goodnight, dad!"

"Night, sweetie. See you in the morning."

"Not if I see you first!"

That's been our little thing. He'd say 'I'll see you in the morning' and I'd say 'Not if I see you first'. We said it every night. It always made me smile and it's better to go to bed happy, I guess. 

I got into bed and pulled the covers over my body. I plugged in my phone to the charger/alarm clock on my night stand and closed my eyes. I was asleep within minutes. 

Again, guys, thanks for reading. I'd need at least two reads on this chapter or else I probably won't be able to update for a while. I hope I'll get some reads. Thanks for reading, though. 

-A.