Under the Summer Stars

Jack

THAT'S RIGHT, THERE'S OUR JACK.

(HIS NAME IS BRENTON THWAITES AND IF YOU'RE TRYING TO REMEMBER WHERE YOU SAW HIM I'LL HELP YOU OUT)

HE WAS IN THE GIVER, BLUE LAGOON, OCULUS (das some scurry shit), MALEFICENT, AND SOME OTHER STUFF SO THIS GUY GETS AROUND.
CHECK HIM OUT. HE'S QUITE A TREAT FOR THE EYES.

BTW, I KNOW I SAID JACK WAS BRUNETTE BUT THIS WAS JUST A REALLY GOOD PICTURE OF HIM SO I MIGHT CHANGE HIM TO BLONDE BECAUSE HE WAS JUST AS HOT BLONDE AS HE IS NOW WITH BRUNETTE HAIR.

•••

Dad,
Do you remember the one time Sammy O'Neil and Marty came over way back in the day and we all watched Halloween? And how you scared us with your Michael Myers mask, and Mom made you throw it out and apologize?

Anyways, I went over to Sammy's house today, which felt weird, because we haven't hung out since the beginning of last year.
I missed him, though, and I bet you miss him now too.

He's an idiot, really. We went down to the beach and saw Beth and Ellen, the two girls we met a couple days ago. Their grandma's house is right across the street.

Anyways, we talked to them for a little bit, and Sammy tried to get them to come in the water with us, but only Ellen would. Beth can't swim.

I find that hard to believe. How can someone not learn how to swim? That's crazy! I learned how to swim when I was three!

Anyways, it was a fun day.

Come home soon,
Jack

•
•
•

When my mom got home from work, I dropped all of the letters I've written in front of her on the table.

"I'm really glad you're doing this, Jack," she said, looking up at me with a soft smile that didn't seem to reach her eyes. Ever since Dad disappeared, they haven't.

I took a long, hard look at her. It was only five o'clock in the afternoon, and the bags under her eyes drooped like an old butt. I felt bad. She looked terrible. Her hair seemed to gray at the roots, and that was unusual, because we have the same, full chestnut brown hair.

I guess sadness can do that to you.

"Where's Amy?" I asked.

"In the pool," she said distractedly as she began to read the letters.

"Hey," I stopped her. "Don't. Please."

She looked up at me, a bit taken aback.

"Okay, I won't." She put the first and only four I had written in an envelope.

I walked through the back door to greet my sister. "Hey."

She looked up from one of my old Spanish textbooks from grade school.

"Hola, mi hermano."

"Ah, taking my textbook, I see," I smiled at her. "Nerd."

"I want to practice for when I start high school in the fall," she said. "I want to take Spanish so I can go to Spain on the class trip."

"Pas le français?" I asked her.

She stared blankly at me.

"Not French?" I translated my own words. Despite how bad I was in specific classes - mainly just Trig - I always aced French.

"Nah," she shook her head, leaning against the lounge chair. "Too hard."

"I see," I said, sighing of boredom.
"Wanna go to the beach?"