Soon. I had promised her soon. And now it’s October. Even though I see her every day in homeroom, for those fifteen minutes it’s like she doesn’t exist and I don’t exist, at least not in the same universe. She ignores me, like she should. She should never talk to me again. She should forget my name and forget my face and forget that one perfect night we spent together.

Of course, just because she should doesn’t mean I want her to. It’s already been established that I’m a shitty person, and I’ve only made myself more shitty by going to work every possible day instead of helping her rebuild the greenhouse. A layer of tall grass now wraps around the supplies on the ground between the high school and the daycare. It’s been weeks and I haven’t had time to help her.

I know she won’t talk to me, and I don’t blame her one bit, but I have to explain. I have to let her know. So I write a letter.

It takes me several hours over several days. I sit up in my bed well past bedtime and write until the early morning hours. I toss out a dozen drafts before I finally settle on one. I owe her an explanation, and an apology. She doesn’t have to read it, but I write as neatly as possible in the hopes that she will.

 

Clarissa,

If you’ve opened this letter, I hope you’ll read it all. I owe you an apology. I owe you more than an apology. I have no explanations for what I’ve done, only piss poor excuses and the pleading hope that you’ll someday forgive me.

I want to explain.

The first day of school went by in a blur. I’d barely slept the night before thanks to my dad going on another one of his drinking binges, so I barely paid attention in any of my classes, especially homeroom. My feet were on your desk because all I wanted to do was kick back and go to sleep. Even in a busy classroom filled with twenty people all talking at once, it was more serene than trying to sleep at my house with one raging alcoholic.

When school was over, I went home to more of the same bullshit. Exhaustive, depleting bullshit. I was in a mood. This doesn’t excuse anything, I know. One of my teammates, and up until now, a guy I considered my friend, was drunk and most likely high and decided to wreak havoc on the first thing he found. That was your greenhouse.

I tried to stop him. I tried to stop myself. But months of exhaustion and stress all came out at once and suddenly I was helping him. I swear to God, I thought the greenhouse belonged to the school. I figured the school didn’t care. I also thought it wasn’t being used since it’s been sitting there vacant for as long as I could remember.

In the dark, I didn’t see that it was new. In the daylight, I could see that very well. Had I realized we weren’t destroying an old shack, I probably would have stopped.

The reason I never came forward was fear. Fear of what would happen to me when my dad found out that I’d destroyed someone’s private property. So I kept quiet. I focused on the girl in homeroom who was so beautiful she made my head spin. All I wanted was to get to know you. I wanted to take my mind off every other shitty thing in my life and spend my time with you.

So I kept lying. But only about the greenhouse. Everything else, every word, was true.

I know I promised to rebuild your greenhouse, and I haven’t been around much lately. My promise is valid. My timing is off.

My dad has lost his job and my parents need help with the bills. I have taken on as many work hours as possible to bring in money for them, and that leaves no more time left to build the greenhouse. I’m even ditching school on Fridays so I can work sixteen hours straight. I know this isn’t a good enough excuse. I know I’ve lost your trust and your friendship. I just wanted you to know the truth, Clarissa. I fucked up when I took a hammer to that greenhouse, and I fucked up worse when I lied to you. And that friend who got me into this trouble has now taken an interest in you, which is something I’ll never forgive myself for. Now, abandoning you with the rebuilding efforts is the last thing I want to be doing, trust me. I spend every day thinking about the day when I’ll be able to help. I hope it’s soon. Please don’t give up on me. I will build this greenhouse for you.

I’m sorry for everything.

Gavin

 

It’s the best I can do. I fold up the letter and put it in an envelope, and then seal the envelope shut. I’ve revealed my worst secrets in here, and I don’t want anyone to accidently read it.

In the morning, I slip past my dad, who is passed out on the couch wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday. Mom isn’t home yet because she went straight from work to cleaning someone’s house. I make a sandwich and grab some snack food from the pantry and shove it all in a plastic shopping bag. I’ve been eating my lunch in my truck now. I can’t afford to go out and I’m no longer welcome at the lunch table with my old soccer friends. I could probably make more friends, but I have no energy for that.

At school, I tuck my letter under the cover of my chemistry book, which I place on my desk in homeroom. I wait patiently for Clarissa to arrive, just a few seconds before the bell, just like always.

She’s wearing tight jeans and a black sweater that has a cat face on the front. She’s adorable, as always. She slips into her chair, and for the first time in weeks, I don’t look away.

I sit up straight. Reach into my chemistry book. I lean forward, my hand reaching out to tap her on the shoulder.

Then TJ beats me to the punch. “Hey, girl.” He slides his desk halfway across the aisle so that he’s closer to her as he leans over, laying on a heavy smile.

“Good morning,” she tells him, her voice sweet. It’s the kind of voice she hasn’t used on me in a long time.

He gives her a quick once-over that makes my skin crawl. A knot twists in my stomach as I watch this event happing right in front of me, by two people who don’t even notice I’m here.

“What are you up to tonight?” TJ asks her.

She shrugs. “Absolutely nothing,” she says, and maybe it’s my imagination but it’s almost like she’s flirting. The knot in my stomach gets tighter. TJ knows I went out with her. He knows I like her. Why would he do this after he’s already taken everything else from me? Because of him, I’m off the team, I’m out several hundred dollars, and Clarissa hates me.

The homeroom teacher begins her morning speech, talking about upcoming events and shit I never listen to. TJ holds up a finger to Clarissa, signaling that their conversation will continue soon.

I sit so still my vision blurs as I stare straight ahead, hoping I’m wrong in my assumptions. As soon as the announcements are over, the teacher hands a stack of papers to some guy on the front row and he begins passing them out.

TJ taps Clarissa on the arm. “You wanna get dinner tonight?”

Dammit.

She seems to consider it a moment. I expect her to ask him a bunch of questions, but all she says is, “Sure.”

“Sweet. Can I get your number?” TJ holds out a pen, and then puts his arm in her lap. Anger rolls around in the pit of my stomach. This is not happening.

She takes his hand and writes her number on his forearm. Every second that passes is like another knife being stabbed into my back. I’m right here. I see all of this.

And he knows it.

“I’ll call you later,” TJ promises, sealing the deal with a wink.

I see her cheeks turn pink just before the bell rings. I bolt out of that classroom like it’s on fire. What the hell is this shit? He’s doing it to piss me off, he has to be. TJ doesn’t go for girls like Clarissa. He likes them slutty. Drunk girls at parties. Freshmen. He doesn’t like sweet girls like Clarissa.

I don’t even realize what I’m doing at first. My feet take me down to the math hallway. As soon as she turns the corner, I release the breath I’d been holding. She’s alone. That dickhead didn’t follow her to her next class. This is my chance.

She doesn’t even see me because she’s looking down at her phone. I step in front of her.

“You can’t go out with him.”

She startles, then looks at me with hatred in her eyes. “Excuse you?”

“TJ is a dick. You can’t go out with him.”

“I can go out with whoever I want,” she says, stepping to the side.

“Yeah, but dating him would be a mistake.”

“Good thing I have experience in dating mistakes,” she snaps.

I sigh. “Please, Clarissa. Don’t do it.”

She just glares at me. There are so many things I wish I could say, but even if she’d listen, there’s not enough time between classes. That’s when I remember the letter. I pull it out of my book and hand it to her. “Just read this. Please.”

“What is it?” she says, turning over the blank envelope.”

“It’s a letter from me.”

She rolls her eyes. That cuts me worse than a knife.

“Hate me all you want, but TJ will only hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t find a reason to believe anything you say.” She shoves my letter into her binder and then grips it to her chest. At least she didn’t rip it up on sight.

“Just read the letter,” I say. “Please.”

She turns toward her classroom and doesn’t bother looking me in the eye anymore. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

I stand there for a second, my muscles rebelling against any movement. I’m overwhelmed with being in her presence again. I’m relieved that I finally gave her the letter, and even though she hates me, she might read it. If she reads it, maybe she’ll find a way to forgive me.

Or maybe I’ve already lost her to TJ.