Dear Mallory

Dear Mallory,

Hey, long time no see. I can get away with saying that because you aren’t here to hit me in reply, and being apart for three years counts as a ‘long time’. I hope the house remodel went well, and that your father didn’t strain himself. You and your mom always bug him about pushing himself too hard, especially given his heart, but you two know he means well by it. It’s an old house though, so I hope you three didn’t change too much.

How are classes? We were freshman when I moved, so I guess you’re about to finish up your last semester as a senior. You certainly look old, haha… Don’t worry, I felt that one from here. You’re a model student, so I’m sure you’ll get into whatever school you want. Are you still considering a career in journalism? I hope you can find a spotter for yourself. To be honest, I always believed that it was a silly job, I mean, what reporter has a spotter working with them? When we were young, you’d send me out on ‘leads’, looking for ‘scoops’ that you would point a mic at and barrage the subject with questions. I remember when you interrogated a vending machine, asking if it felt bad about stealing money from people, or about how it never has your favorite candy bar.

I’m sorry if I seem nostalgic, it’s just that it’s not as fun without you around anymore. I know you were sad when I told you my family was moving away, but I never told you how I was even worse off. I didn’t tell you this in our first few letters, but I had a whole escape plan written up. I planned on sneaking away the day of the move and coming to live at your house. I may have gone with it too, if the idea of living in a girl’s house wasn’t so embarrassing. My parents would kill me, haha, and yours would probably help bury the body.

Speaking of letters, I’m really sorry this one’s so late. We kept in touch for a few months, but a few things came up and I couldn’t write you. I have so many questions for you, and I’ve had so much time to organize my thoughts about what to write about. I don’t know why I waited so long. I suppose I’m scared. You’ve probably moved on, and perhaps you’ve found a boyfriend. It’s silly, I know; who could possibly put up with your punches? I mean, really, you hit me more in one day than I’ve seen in an action movie. See? Another bruise! Anyway, I hope you have found one. If so, you should probably buy a lottery ticket, or play a claw machine.

Remember The Arcade? We didn’t have a real one in our town, but we did have that treehouse that we called “The Arcade”. It was a child’s dream come true; a rope ladder, trap door, two windows, and plenty of storage for our treasures. Inside was a sanctuary where we could spend an entire day laying on the floor. It was like a separate life from our own. We were even kicked out when we were too old, after the storm wrecked it. I suppose the tree was old, but we were so sure it’d survive anything. We’d grow up, live in that house, and our kids would play in it. We were pretty naïve, right? Maybe. Honestly, I thought it was a pretty cool idea. Not the fact that we’d be married – I meant about our kids playing together in The Arcade. Yea, that’s what I meant.

Anyway, I wish we could see each other soon. Not too soon though, because you need to live your own life. I’ve always dragged you along on adventures, even if you didn’t want to go. I still regret that trip to the river bridge. I was so excited to have found it that I couldn’t help but make you come see it with me. Then I began to tease you about how scared you were to cross it… I didn’t realize how weak the bridge had become, and it was terrifying to see you fall. I remember how your parents yelled at me; it felt like forever, but I didn’t blame them for a second of it. Honestly, I felt worse about avoiding you for a week afterwards, especially since that seemed to hurt you more than the fall. I’m really sorry about that. I was scared that I’d hurt you again with my adventures. I was so glad when you took me on an adventure of your own. The way you looked at me, hand stretched out; you looked so cool.

You’ve always looked cool to me. Like that time in middle school when you attacked a couple boys who were picking on a stray cat. I couldn’t believe it when they ran away, crying. Your hands were shaking, but I could tell you were only worried you hurt them too much. Frankly, I was a little scared myself. I didn’t realize how strong you were. Long story short; I haven’t worried about you for a second these last three years. The only thing is that I’m worried you never moved on. Every day, before and after school, you’d wait for me. Even during the major storm during sixth grade, you waited for me. Your umbrella had blown away, and you were soaked to the bone. I’m sorry I laughed so hard, but you looked so pitiful with your soaked hair. You pushed me into a puddle, so that I’d be just as soaked, but I kept on laughing. That was the first time we shared an umbrella. I think we were a lot closer to each other after that.

Anyway, I hope you see the world and take lots of pictures. When you said you wanted to be a journalist, I was really surprised. I knew you liked exploring and interviewing everyone you met, but after your hands grasped a camera, you started to take pictures of everything. I asked you how that made you want to be a journalist, and you shoved a National Geographic magazine in my face. You said there were people who took pictures all over the world, and that you wanted to be one of them.

When you’re traveling the world, perhaps you can come visit me. There’s a lot of people here, but nobody talks or explores anymore. We’re all stuck in one place. If you came here, we could talk again, and I could read you this letter if I got my courage together. Frankly, it’s been so long since I’ve talked to anyone (let alone a girl) that I’d probably be too shy. I’d just send the letter, but I think the postman would be shocked to see the return address.

Sincerely,

Your old best friend