Dear Evan Hansen [1] √

tuesday - day two

The next day, another letter greeted him again. This time, however, it was wedged between the slits of his locker door, as if placed hastily.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Today is going to be a good day. Here's why: today is another day, a fresh start. What more do I need to say? A clean slate is what everyone needs at some point in their lives.

Sincerely,
Me.

P.S. don't let those people push you around like that. You don't deserve it.

Evan blinked. He thought it was going to be a one-time thing. He was used to that sort of stuff. People always end up leaving him when they want to. Like his dad.

He stiffened at the thought of him. He was a kid that time. It was a February day when his dad came by before going away. There was a truck in the driveway, and he'd been fascinated by it . . .

He shook himself out of the memory. It would do him no good to mope about it, cry over spilled milk.

Don't let those people push you around like that. You don't deserve it.

Evan remembered when someone pushed him yesterday, making him hit his locker. It meant that the sender was close that time. He wondered if they were still around right now.

He looked around, trying to look for someone, though he didn't really know who he was looking for.

"Hey."

He turned around and saw a girl his age, hands clasped tightly on her backpack straps. "I don't think I've talked to you before. How was your summer?" she said brightly.

This is new, Evan thought. Maybe today really is going to be a good day after all, just like the letter said. First, two letters were addressed to him, saying nice things to him. Second, a student was actually initiating a conversation with him that didn't involve borrowing something from him.

He secretly glanced around to make sure that 1.) The girl was actually talking to him and not some other person hiding in his locker or something, and 2.) This wasn't a practical joke, like, hey! The loser thought someone would willingly talk to him!

Evan opened his mouth to speak but the girl beat him to it, "Mine was productive," she said with a nod, like she was telling him a secret that was not-so-secret anymore because she probably already told the whole school about it. "I did three internships and ninety hours of community service. I know, wow."

Evan smiled, only because he thought she might think he's rude for smiling back, thus ruining his chances of gaining a friend, even though said possible friend didn't really bother to hear what he said. "That's great—"

"Even though I was so busy," she continued, "I still managed to make some great friends. Or, well, acquaintances."

Evan didn't what the girl's deal was — hell, he didn't even know her name — but, hey, someone was talking to him, finally, so he didn't bother to ask what was up with her. "Oh . . . yeah? That's . . . that's great. B—but . . . I don't . . . I mean . . ." He sighed, digging out his Sharpie. "D—do you, maybe, want to—to sign my cast?"

"Oh my God," she gasped. "What happened to your arm?"

"It's a funny story, actually. I fell out of a tree and broke it—"

"Really? My grandmother broke her hip getting into the bathtub in July. The doctors said that was the beginning of the end, because then she died."

Evan didn't get the chance to reply, again, because she said, "Well, happy first day! Or, second day, rather," and turned her heels and left Evan by himself, holding out a Sharpie to an invisible person, which, surprisingly, he was okay with because he was used to it.

"When did you even get a cast? Is it weird to be the first person in history to break their arm from jerking off too much or do you consider that an honor?"

"Jared," Evan said the name under his breath. In a louder voice, he added, "I've had it since summer." And, as though, he just registered what the other boy just said, "What? No? I wasn't— I wasn't doing that!"

"Was it the sex letter?" Jared inquired, "because I haven't seen that cast yesterday."

"That's not what happened. I was just— I was climbing a tree, and I fell."

Jared blinked, bursting into laughter. "You fell off a tree? What are you, like, an acorn?"

"Well, I was— I don't know if you know this but I worked this summer at Ellison State Park, as a sort of assistant park ranger. I'm sort of a tree expert now, I mean, not to brag." He laughed, but Jared didn't. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, anyways, I tried to climb this forty foot tall oak tree—"

"And then you fell?" Jared chuckled.

"Well, it's actually kind of a funny story because there was a solid ten minutes after I fell where I just lay there on the ground, waiting for someone to come— to come get me. I just kept repeating to myself, " they'll come. Any minute now. Any minute."

"So did they?" Jared asked.

"No. Nobody came. That— that's what's funny."

"Jesus Christ."

Evan licked his lips. "Anyway, do you— do you wanna sign my cast?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Um . . . I— I don't— never mind."

"Okay." Jared rolled his eyes and left.

Evan sighed, resting his head against his locker. The bell rang after a few minutes, and he scrambled to his first period, not wanting to be late, the post script of the note forgotten.