The Perks of Being a Side Effect

Chapter 2

Augustus was buried near the gate of the cemetary, I didn't have to wander far in the sea of tombstones to visit him. His grave was a short stone with his name engraved along with the day he was born and the day he died. Flowers that had once been laid gently and sadly onto the earth in front of his stone had withered and died. Their petals and leaves crumbled to the touch and were carried away in the light summer breeze.

"Hey, Gus." I whispered as I knelt in front of his grave. I felt bad for not bringing fowers, I should have brought flowers. Suddenly remembering the envelope in my pocket, I retrieved it. I'd somehow managed to crumple it quite a lot from walking here but it only took about half a minute to unfold and smoothen the paper with the palms of my hands.

I remembered reading to Augustus, well more like reciting things for him. Poems, quotes from novels. I tore the envelope open and slid the paper out. "Looks like I have something to read for you, I'll try to be slower." I said, recalling the time I recited a poem for Augustus and he told me to read slower.

I took a deep breath and began to read the paper. "Dear Friend, I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have." I began, the cemetary was silent except for my reading and I felt like maybe my voice would carry from beside his grave to where Gus was now. I liked to think that he could hear me. I liked to think he would be smiling and nodding his head in approvement of my reading pace.

I continued to read a bit more and as I read certain sections of the letter caught my attention. It was actually a well written letter. It was a letter from a boy I haven't met before who has been going through a tough time. And unlike most people I talk to about having tough times, this boy didn't have cancer. As far as I could tell, he was just sort of heartbroken.

In the letter he wrote about his best friend Michael who took his own life about a year before writing this letter. He also spoke of his Aunt Helen who he had also lost. He concluded the letter by saying that tomorrow was his first day of high school. The name he used at the bottom of the page, which I assumed was the fake name he had chosen, was signed by Charlie. This "Charlie" boy seemed pretty certain that he wanted to remain anonymous.

I folded the letter back up and put it in the pockets of my jeans. "What do you think, Gus?" I asked aloud. Obviously I wasn't given a response. I sighed, poor kid who wrote this letter. He must be feeling pretty conflicted if he dared to write a letter to a girl who just lost her boyfriend and is fighting a battle that she is destined to lose with cancer. But he seemed very sincere and troubled. It was enough to make me stop thinking about Gus for a moment. But only for a moment.

"Really makes you think, doesn't it?" I said softly. "That there are people suffering just as much as you."

The wind was my only response but I knew that if Gus were here he would agree and maybe say something philosophical. I wanted to write back to this boy Charlie. I wasn't too foreign to writing letters to people myself. Remembering the letters I had sent Van Houten before and after meeting Augustus. There is a certain sense of anonymity of communicating in letters rather than real life. When sending letters to Van Houten for the first time, I put a lot of thought into my wording. I didn't want to look like an idiot in front of my idol. And even though he knew my name it still helped me to write some things I don't think I would have said if we were speaking face to face.

I knew I should probably head back home, I have been out of the house long enough to satisfy my mother. I looked at Gus' tombstone and bit the inside of my cheek. My shoulders slumped a little. "See you soon." I said, turned away, and began to slowly walk home. I dug my hands far into my jean pockets where one of them shared the tight space with Charlie's letter. I still hadn't really determined whether or not he was writing to me. And I couldn't exactly ask him, could I? As helpful as my parents are I don't feel like a fifteen year old boy would write something this important to them. How would they have any sort of connection to him at all? How did I? I made sure to take small steps in order to give myself some time to think and be alone. It sure had been a long time since I allowed mself to venture outdoors. It was nice. I started to think about my parents, and Augustus and his family, but mainly the letter. It was such a perplexing letter! I didn't have a clue why Charlie would have chosen me of all people to write to. And why didn't he include a return address? Why didn't he want me to write to him? In the letter he said that he wanted to know that people are out there who listen. But how did he even know I was listening and reading his letter if I couldn't reply?!All things aside though, I really wish I could just write back to him.