A World Between - 5. Letters 5 (Revised)

Ryan. I'll call you Ryan like I always did. I spoke with Taylor today; he has changed so much. His voice has gotten deeper; he has pimples, and his hair has gotten longer, and above all, he's taller than me now. He was asking how I was doing. How I was settling in, and for the most part, I told him I was enjoying it. Well, school is okay… it would be a lot better, of course, sharing my experiences with you. He was all friendly and sweet about the situation, though out of nowhere he told me he was sorry to hear about you. I didn't know what to say; I don't think I'd even have the words to comprehend what to say, even if he asked me to do so. What was I supposed to say to that?

"I'm sorry to hear about Ryan."

Sigh… I told him "I'm doing okay…"

Though, in reality, I don't think I'm doing so good. I haven't spoken to anyone else about you, and well, I don't think I plan to. I mean I'm a boy, right? I can handle this. I can't just go around and be all sad like and cry. People would see that as a weakness. Then over the next couple of school years, I'll have gained a reputation for being "the kid that cries in school." I'm not sure what got to me about the conversation, but I think it was because he said that about you. Taylor is a cool guy, but not as impressive as you.

I started my first band practice; I'm playing the piano again. I guess the teacher thinks I'm doing okay enough for me to be able to be selected for solos. I keep half expecting to turn around and see you with a tuba or something behind me deafening the entire class. I know that would be something you'd do for a kick. I think you would have liked the music we're playing. It's not too classical, and it's not too old; it's a mix of old school and new. The music teacher is trying to keep it modern enough so we can get into the music, but give it the facelift it needs.

Also, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, not that I wanted to tell you this, but considering we've always told each other stuff, I decided I didn't want to hide this from you. Megan is hanging around that guy Thomas from the east side of town. You know the blond-headed dude that is always practising: kicking footballs down on the school grounds when the local team is not practising or playing. Yeah well, him. I've heard he's getting really good. But I just thought you'd like to know Megan is kind of going out with him, I guess. I'm not sure; I haven't asked or anything, but it sure looks that way to me. So, I'm sorry dude.

Oh, and yeah, I was also in our 7th-grade building. I was called out of class from my teacher, which hardly ever happens. She asked me to run across to the other building and hand these musical instruments in. They needed them for their next class since we had borrowed them. Well, I did, and well, I passed through the front door and walked toward the reception. I passed by our old lockers; you know the one I accidentally on purpose locked you in. Yeah well, that one, and I'm still entirely sorry about that; it was a mistake. I was joking about it. I shut the door, and it locked, and I pretended I couldn't open it. The next thing I knew was I couldn't open it for real. I dialled that bloody combination in about ten times, and after I was about to have a nervous breakdown, it finally opened. You were panicking when you were locked in there, but when I opened it, you were so relaxed and collected. When I opened it, you smiled coyly with a smirk to it. Then your usual witty self quickly started; you gave me the middle finger through the tiny crack of the open door. But you were quick to jump out of the locker when I threatened to close it again. That was a funny moment, maybe not for you or me, but I think we both found it amusing afterwards.

Anyway, I better stop writing this letter and start my homework; I'll write another letter soon.

Jake.