Dear Declan

Chapter 3

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it."

- Helen Keller

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Dear Declan,

So, this week, during our language class, Blythe went crazy. And I mean crazy. The snobby girls, like Bianca and the other girls I told you I so endlessly hate, they were gossiping about Blythe. The day before she showed up at school in a battered sun dress, splattered with mud and who knows what else after she escaped from her mother's fundraiser. I personally thought that she was so lucky to miss a day of school(my mom would rather die than let me miss), but she hated those things. Her mom rushed in after her, looking winded and very angry. She shouted something along the lines of "Blythe Bauer, how did I raise such an improper daughter?" The snobby girls were talking about how her mom had probably disowned her and then Blythe confronted Bianca and punched her in the face. It was kinda awesome.

I mean, Bianca has a broken nose now and Blythe is suspended for a week, but it was still pretty awesome.

It's almost Christmas, meaning it's almost the break and it's almost my birthday! I haven't had a birthday party since I was 4 years old, so you can imagine how nervous I am now. It's not totally for my birthday, like mom calls it a Christmas Eve party, but that's just the perks of being born on the night before Christmas, I guess. A bunch of the women from mom's yoga class are coming with their families and of course, Blythe is too along with some of Olivia's friends. Our little loft is going to be so full and just thinking about it makes me feel warm inside.

Also, it's weird thinking that we've been in the USA for nearly a year now. I haven't seen my dad for a whole year. I think of him when I'm alone, like when I'm in the shower or before I fall asleep. I can't put my finger on the feeling, but I don't think I miss him. My mom is so much happier without him in our lives.

I wish you a Happy Holidays, Declan!

Your friend,

Viola

In all my letters, I'd been trying to leave him an open window to write back to me. Of course, he never did. I stopped expecting a letter, stopped checking my mailbox everyday when I came home from school. It stopped hurting so much.

Blythe helped. I remember telling her about him vaguely. I only mentioned that we'd been writing letters back and forth for a few months before he stopped. She thought, in her natural Blythe style, that he was my secret lover. Back then, I blushed profusely at even the thought of that.

Boys didn't like me. They barely knew I existed since I talked so minimally. Both Blythe and I thought the girls who fell head over heels for a guy were stupid and really way to young. It was also only ever the girls who whispered about the boys. Thinking back, they were all idiots because the boys clearly only cared about whether or not they'd get to play ultimate frisbee during recess.

The only example of love and marriage I had at the time were my parents' and you all know how that ended up. Perhaps that was the reason I was so closed off to the idea of romance, perhaps that was why I claimed it to be stupid; I didn't want to be miserable like my mom was.

I suppose, there had also been the contemporary books that I was probably too young to read. I always secretly hoped that my life would turn out like one of those girls'. They found someone who love them so entirely and so truthfully, but I knew it wouldn't last. Couples stop loving each other one time. They say in the books that they won't love another like they love their significant other, but my parents were a prime example of how it really turns out.