It's Me, Luke

3

9 January 12

Monday

Dear Jane Doe,

Today at school, Sir Wiggins, our maths teacher, gave us a surprise quiz. Everyone groaned and pulled their hairs out of frustration, but I didn't. I was beyond ready. So when it was time for us to know the results, I figured out that I got an A+, and that I was the only ome who did. I was told by Sir Wiggins that I was going to be something someday, but everybody just laughed.

Those people don't know how much that meant to me. They don't know how much that inspired me.

At least I was going to be something, they aren't.

Then this guy I was telling you about the other day, Johnny, insisted I'd give him a tutorial over Calculus this weekend, because he flunked his past seven quizzes, and he didn't want to not graduate. Our conversation went more like this:

Him: "Hey smartass, come over my house on Wednesday, after school."

Me: "What for?"

Him: "You're going to have to teach me about our previous lessons, dumbass."

Me: "Okay."

Him: "Don't be fucking late or I'll snap your body into two."

Me: "Okay."

See, Jane, he didn't give me his address, which furthermore proved his stupidity about a lot of things. He didn't even know what manner was, and when to use it.

So I had to search him up lunch period, to ask him about his address. When I did, he was sitting with his group of friends. All of them glared at me when I said:

"Johnny, where do you live?"

"Why do you want to know, stalker?" Johnny asked, inching a bit towrds me, and glancing at his friends with a smirk on his face.

"Ew, he's going to rape you, babe!" Holly the cheerleader yelled, pulling his boyfriend back the chair, and they started kissing.

"Go away, loser." One of his jock friends said, throwing a fry straight on my face. Another one from his circle repeated the rude gesture, until everyone on his table did the same thing, and I just stood there. It took me a while to realize that everyone in the cafeteria was laughing at me, and the burning feeling of eyes prying on me simply terrified me, so I turned around just ran away. I couldn't help but to feel sorry for myself.

When the last bell rung, I was at the men's locker room. Johnny went to me, and there he shoved me a piece of paper. I unfolded the paper and there was his address written:

Number 9, 24th street, McKenzie Highway Villages. Shut up or die.

I looked up from the paper and to him, arranging my glasses. Then, he gritted his teeth, and through his gapless pearly whites, he said, "Don't you dare fucking tell anyone about this, got it?"

I don't know, Jane, he sounded very aggressive, so I just nodded like a good puppy, even though I didn't want to.

You see, there are things you cannot do when you are extremely thin, even though when you're damn smart, like you can't win an argument over an American football player like Johnny himself, otherwise you'd be thrown like a ball up in the sky.

So of all the torturous scenes I was planning on him in my head, I chose to do the safe one.

Just nod, and ignore.

Don't get me wrong, I am very mad at him. I was even accused as a raper by a girl, just because he was too chicken to admit he needed a tutor like me!

I don't want to help him, but I have to, otherwise I might not make it out of the highschool hellhole alive.

I have to, Jane Doe.

Lame.

Right now, I am looking up Michaela Schwartz in Google, as an assignment for History class. Apparently, this guy was Adolf Hitler's past girlfriend, who was once a Jew. Ironic.

I do not see the necessity of researching Adolf Hitler's ex-girlfriend. My history teacher is nuts.

Well maybe she figured out no one would bother to look Michaela up, because as harsh as it sounds, no one gives two damns about her subject, so she gave the pointless assignment to satisfy herself.

Clearly, she forgot about me.

I always do every freaking assignment anyone could give me.

Heck, I would even kill someone if it's an assignment.

Well, maybe not those of Johnny's size.

That's all I can share with you right now, Jane Doe. Mom's calling me from downstairs, and says I have to go to Dr. Holt right now.

Who she is and what she does will be explained on my next letter, I have no time to explain it now.

I have to go.

Bye

Luke