By: Leyuan Zhou
April 14, 2019
Dear Friend,
I’m writing to you because I have no one else to write to.
Sure, you would expect that an average thirteen year-old boy like me would have some REAL friends (what do they mean by real anyways?), but if you don’t count my math teacher, I guess you’re my only friend. My parents are pretty great though, and so are my siblings, but I’m not sure if they can be considered my “friends”.
My sister, Jenna, is nice. Well, if I were to be completely honest, she’s only nice sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that she’s a girl in high school (frequent moodiness???) or that she finds me to be incredibly annoying (I hope not). Either way, she can really lash out at me sometimes. I think it’s because she secretly wishes that I was a girl, so she could give me fashion advice and talk to me about all her “problems”. I feel a little bit bad about that. But most of the time, she tries her best to be nice.
My older brother Alex is also pretty cool, too. He’s the star quarterback of our school’s varsity football team, which I guess classifies him as “popular.”. When he’s not grinding himself at football practice, he usually hangs out with his buddies in the neighborhood diner, the Sizzling Griddle. They serve some good burgers though. The only time I have been there was after the football team’s victory against Stone Mountain Prep. I’m not sure what they would do there.
Anyways, those are my siblings. There’s not much to say about my parents except for the fact that they are awesome. Period. Have you ever seen a mom who wakes up at four in the morning just to pack an entire banquet in their children’s lunch boxes? What about a dad who never misses any football games, spelling bees, or PTA meetings despite working a nine-to-five job every day? I swear, my parents are superhumans. If you ever get the chance to meet them, they will be the coolest people you’ll ever talk to. Trust me.
In some ways, my family has kind of filled the imaginary “hole” of not really having friends. What does someone even need a friend for? To feel happy? To belong somewhere? To feel self-worth? I’m not sure. I have actually never thought of it that way. The people in my family are my friends, except for the added benefit that they’re also my family. Wow, that sounds really cheesy. I would probably get a bad wedgie just for saying that.
Love,
Max
April 17, 2019
Dear Friend,
Yesterday, Alex came home at midnight. I was already asleep by then, but Jenna told me the next day that he stumbled into the living room and fell on the floor. It created quite a commotion in the house, apparently.
The next morning, Alex’s eyes were bloodshot and he was acting very strange, like he was scared that something might jump out and scare him at any instant. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, but Jenna told me that he was high on “weed.”. I guess that isn’t too good, because mom and dad were hysterical when they found out. Mom sobbed for what felt like ages, and her eyes became even more bloodshot than Alex’s! In the midst of it all, I think I heard dad say something about Alex ruining his future, something I really hope doesn’t happen. Honestly, I think mom and dad were just shocked – their yelling was so loud that I bet the entire block could hear them. And you know what’s worse? It was a school night! Of course, I wasn’t a part of this chaos, though I wonder what would happen if I was.
Love,
Max
April 24, 2019
Dear Friend,
I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you for the past few days – I was busy studying for a math test. Well, I don’t know if you would consider falling asleep after doing every other page of practice problems and then jerking myself awake to be “studying.”. But I managed to get through four pages of extremely dull algebra questions before completely giving up! I know, not that exciting.
It’s weird though, considering that I barely study and still get perfect scores on my tests. Math has always been my favorite subject, but probably only because it’s my best subject. There really isn’t anything too interesting about formulas and equations, but I think numbers just come naturally to me. I guess I’ve just never noticed that before. Is that a good thing?
Love,
Max
April 25, 2019
Dear Friend,
My math teacher, Mr. Smith, handed back my test today. I got a perfect score! I was kind of expecting that though, considering that all of the questions were easy and I was able to breeze through them in about fifteen minutes. Apparently, I was the only person in the class to receive 100% – everyone else only got 60s and 70s. That’s pretty good for me, I guess.
Just as I was putting my books into my back and getting ready for the next class, Mr. Smith came up to me and started talking to me. I’ve never noticed it before, but he kind of looks like my dad. Same height, same body type, same sense of style – they could be brothers! Well, except for the fact that Mr. Smith has a really big, ugly mustache. I’m not sure who gave him the idea to grow one, but that person definitely needs to go see a therapist. In fact, it’s probably the mustache that repels most students (and other teachers) from Mr. Smith.
Anyways, he started out by congratulating me on scoring well on the test. He tried to give me a “manly” slap on the back, which I think tried to signify friendliness, but instead just made things a whole lot more awkward. Then, he asked me if I had studied for the test, to which I obviously responded by nodding my head. But after that, to my surprise, he asked me if I wanted to join the high school Algebra One class! I remember how he said something like “you’re well above the norm for typical seventh graders,”, “you exhibit far more intellectual maturity than any other thirteen year old I’ve ever taught” and some other stuff along those lines. I still don’t know what that means, but it probably suggests that I’m smart or something.
Love, Max
April 30, 2019
Dear Friend,
Today started out as an ordinary school day. I had a few classes, spent the break period finishing up some homework in my classroom, and started to eat lunch at my table while reading a new book, “To Kill A Mockingbird”. The storyline seems to be on a slow start, but it’s interesting. For lunch, I’ve pretty much established a routine: Get the regular order (a Mozzarella cheese sandwich and a cup of apple juice), go to my table (the one in the corner, which is never occupied), eat lunch, finish lunch, and go upstairs. In fact, I’ve probably followed the same routine for about three years, ever since I started middle school. Nothing too special about that.
Then all of a sudden, a kid in my grade, Jack, decided to run over to my table from the other side of the cafeteria and pour his entire bottle of nasty, sticky, heavily food-colored Fanta over my clothes.
“Frickin’ nerd!” He said before he ran away. Everyone around me laughed. Except me.
After that incident, I cried until mom came to the principal’s office to take me home. By the way, a fun fact about me is that I cry a lot. Not because my life is depressing, but because crying is just so easy. I mean, think about it: anything can be made better by just crying. Not having a good day? Cry. Can’t seem to figure something out? Cry. Just generally sad? Yep, I assure you, crying will make it better. Wow, I just realized how much of my life I spend crying!
Apparently, Jack got into some huge trouble. His parents were called into the school and everything. I heard from our principal that there was a zero tolerance policy about bullying, and anyone who violated it would get suspended. Ouch. Too bad for him. I guess he now has some explaining to do.
But I’m kind of confused. My mind has now been officially cleared from all that crying, but I still can’t understand why Jack had to pour all that Fanta on me. Like, c’mon, we didn’t even know each other that well! He called me a nerd, too. And I’ve got to admit, that was what hurt the most.
Other than that, I’ve been feeling kind of down lately. Not the type of down I mentioned to you before, the type that can simply be cured by crying for a few hours, but a new sensation that happens a lot deeper within. Is it just me? Or can you feel that too sometimes?
Love,
Max