by Lexie Bean
Just so you know, there are actually some really good things that happen at my house too. The best thing about my house is the basement because I used to have birthday parties there. It’s now where we keep the gun cabinet, fishing poles, and all the extra boxes. Boxes are cool because they can also get sent away to places I have never been to. We have shoe boxes, package boxes, microwave boxes, and a few kind of broken boxes without labels. I like to step inside of them and pretend they are time machines or Harry Potter’s closet. Some people at school might think that I’m silly if they knew I do this, but it helps me feel better.
After today’s breakfast, I brought my quilt down to the basement to nap in one of the big huge boxes that the refrigerator came in. I closed the cardboard lid and even punched a bunch of little holes around the top using a pen to let the smallest amounts of light come through. From inside the box, it looked like a full galaxy close enough to touch. I just hope I don’t grow any bigger. I want to always be able to fit into one of my favorite places, but lately it hurts to stay small inside a closed box for too long. I don’t know. Where do you go to hide? It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I usually don’t tell anyone this stuff either. If you want, maybe you can hide this letter after you find it?
I woke up from my nap with an achy back, my legs curled up next to my chest. Every part of my body cracked trying to say “good morning.” I gave myself a pep talk in my head and climbed out of the cardboard box for a do-over. For the second time that day, I went to the kitchen to cook my own butter toast. I made the bread perfectly brown, put it on a nice yellow plate, and then brought it to my room to eat and play pretend with the dog next door.
The golden retriever who lives next door is the second-best thing about my house. They say at church to “Love your neighbor,” and I do. I really do. My family used to have a dog that would sleep at my feet. In our kitchen, we actually still have an inspirational sign that says: YOU’RE NOT REALLY DRINKING ALONE IF YOUR DOG IS HOME. Our dog, Bean, has been dead a few years now, but we still have that sign for some reason. Anyways, Bean was a hard-nosed dog, but he was clumsy enough to trip on a stripe on the rug. Now I pretend that the doggie outside the window is mine. I’m not sure if it’s a boy or a girl, but that dog is named Jax. I think it’s a nice name anyways.
This afternoon, I fed Jax an invisible bite of my toast through the air, and then we both squished our noses against the cold glass. Sometimes I wish the two of us could watch movies together on the weekends. It’s bad to think this, but I’ve thought about stealing Jax so we could live together. I would feel bad, though. Jax’s mom seems nice from what I can tell. She has really, super-long hair like my Rapunzel Barbie, her bedroom has nice yellow curtains, and she always makes her kids say hi to me.
I think that things would be a little better if I also had a dog or a yellow bedroom. I don’t know. I need a change or an even bigger box. Do you know what I mean?
Sincerely,
Ellie
PS, Do you believe in God? I don’t really care what your answer is. It’s just, I don’t know. I hope it’s okay I asked you that. I don’t really expect anybody to write me back anymore, but writing all of this down sure does help. I would like to keep doing it if it’s okay with you.
Anyways, good night.
Friday, October 3, 1997
Hello Out There,
I did a good job on my chores this week, and really earned my dollar allowance. I washed dishes that weren’t even mine. I picked up the American flag in front of our house after the wind knocked it down. I made my bed really nice even though literally everything was on the floor when I woke up. I don’t mean to complain, but doesn’t Dad know that Beanie Babies are expensive? You can’t just throw them around like that. I wish I could tell someone the truth about how bad he makes me feel, especially lately.
Promise not to tell anybody this? But he has been coming in my room more and more since his birthday. He says this is just a part of life, but I don’t know. He also said it’s good that I’m not like other girls. I’m special. It’s true I’ve never really thought about myself as a girl, so maybe what he is saying is right. He just loves me more than before. Sorry, I don’t really want to talk about this anymore.
To be honest, I haven’t said a word out loud for the past few recesses and I don’t feel proud of myself for doing so good at my no talking game. Maybe life will be better when I’m a grown-up. All week long, Sofie and I have been sitting next to that giant rock on the playground just waiting for time to pass. I bet that rock is so heavy that it would take a big storm for it to blow away. Thank goodness that hasn’t happened yet. My dad says, “The whole state of Michigan is riding out a storm with this economy.” I wonder if Sofie’s dad ever says the same things as he does. Either way, the big rock gives me and Sofie a nice place to rest our backs and watch the wind push the leaves around. Nobody can tattletale on us for just sitting quiet next to each other, people get in way bigger trouble for trying to jump off of that rock like a cliff.
The last time Sofie asked me “How are you?” I didn’t want to say too much of the wrong thing. I don’t want to get in the way of whatever anybody might want. I shook my head and bunched up my toes, so I took up a half an inch less of space. She kept her eyes to the playground and buttoned up her Tweety Bird jacket a little bit more. I wish I could have told Sofie “Thank you for sitting next to me no matter what.” Instead, I just kept sitting there in silence. Do you ever have a hard time saying a nice thing?
Just before the recess bell rang, Sofie picked up a small red-brown rock and put it in her pocket. I found another red-brown rock and put it in my pocket. I came up with a new tradition. Now, every morning when Sofie walks to school without me, she walks five blocks out of the way to put a rock on my front porch. And whenever I walk home from school without Sofie, I go five blocks out of the way to put a rock on her front porch. It’s just our way of saying “I’m okay” and “hello” and “thank you.” If more than three days pass by without rocks on the porches or without seeing each other at all, we will know something messy or bad has happened. That way, we don’t have to answer “How are you?” with words anymore.
I have started making a circle around my bed with all the rocks she gives me. I set them almost exactly two inches away from each other to make an invisible force field. Sometimes it gets kicked over, and the rocks tumble under my bed rolling too far away to reach. Some of them I’m not so sure I will ever get back. Have you ever lost anything that you still think about? Sometimes I still think about my favorite Snow White Polly Pocket I lost in the grass a few years ago. At the time, I was so scared that she fell asleep in the wrong place. Now I think I know how she feels.
The truth is, Sofie loves her house and she really loves her family. But I leave Sofie rocks even when things are messy or bad at my house. I know that Sofie looks forward to seeing them on her porch every afternoon. I don’t want to let my only friend down. I try to pick nice rocks for her with smooth surfaces and speckles that don’t have matching colored pencils. Really nice rocks come from Misery Bay, and really, really nice ones come from Marquette when my family used to go watch the ships carry iron away. Lately, I just stick to finding ones in my own neighborhood and always keep a few in my jacket pockets just in case. I think they are helping.
Sofie and I sat at the giant rock again at recess today. We watched the clouds move slowly and gently until they changed completely. A plane eventually flew by. For a moment, I imagined someone reaching out the window and catching one of my balloon letters from the inside. But it just kept flying away until it was in somebody else’s sky. I tried my best not to feel left behind by whoever was in there.
I looked to my side to see if Sofie saw what I saw, but her eyes were closed. She was sound asleep. I wonder what she was dreaming about. A small snore blew between the gaps of her new adult teeth. Our recess rock’s shadow made a blue blanket over her whole e
ntire body. For a moment, it felt even bigger than the sky. I inched into my own corner of the shadow and decided to try closing my eyes too.
I have to ask, is anyone watching over me? Over us? The priest at my church always likes to say “The Lord is a rock.” I think he is right about that. I don’t always know what I believe in, but I should tell you that Sofie and I are okay when we’re all the way down here next to our rock. It helps us both sleep.
Thanks for listening,
Paul
Tuesday, October 7, 1997
Hi,
I saw Sofie’s dad at the store when I got my balloon today. Just so you know, he looks nothing like my dad. He’s much shorter, has darker skin, and a smile. The new lady working there was giving him funny looks while he was trying to pick out the right air freshener for his logging truck. I have a hard time deciding on things too, but that lady kept asking him “Can I help you with anything, sir?” over and over again like she wanted him to hurry up and leave. Either way, he took his time and I think that’s good.
I haven’t actually seen Sofie’s dad since the PTO cake walk last year, but I worked up the courage to walk over and say “Hi, Mr. Gavia.” He said back in a deep voice, “Hi, you must be Ellie. I’ve heard so much about you from Sofie.” He even told me that I can call him Richard from now on and maybe the three of us could all go trick-or-treating together. He is a nice man from Detroit and has a missing finger from hard work, just like my grandpa. I liked him right away. I then thought about asking Richard to buy me a Cow Tail candy, but instead I just kept my mouth shut so he wouldn’t take back his Halloween invitation. I really hope it works out because Courtney and them sure as heck won’t invite me for trick-or-treating this year. I don’t really think things will get better over the next few weeks.
To be very honest with you, I have been feeling kind of lost lately. There were a lot of girls in the bathroom at school this morning. I just felt really out of place. Not just in a not having a lot of friends way, but in a way I can’t really describe. I just tried telling myself, “You’re a special girl, not like the rest,” just like my dad said. But I don’t know. I used to feel so sure and happy calling myself a boy. Ever since Dad started walking into my room and loving like he does, I am just feeling more afraid of boys. The other day, I even saw him punch his bedroom wall when there was nobody else to fight. He would never do that to another person. Am I supposed to be scared of myself? I don’t know.
I feel so turned around. I even told myself in the bathroom stall, “You’re not a boy. You can’t be one.” When I had that thought, I just stared at the wall.
I imagined someone taking a giant pink eraser to my whole entire body. They started with the middle to separate my parts, my heart, my gut. The rest was scrubbed away one by one, my hands, my legs, my head. Then there was nothing left with the girls’ room toilet un-flushed. Have you ever felt that way before? I don’t know.
Mr. B told us this morning at school, “Every time we lie to ourselves, it’s like taking the wrong turn on a map.” We get lost if we do it too much for too long. I just don’t know, do I even have a map if I feel gone completely? But I had to try anyways because school is like that. To help us figure out our maps, we had a special class assignment where each of us had to make two lists onto giant pieces of paper. One list was supposed to be about ten things we remember, and the other about ten things we love. I’m still not sure if this assignment was really good timing or really bad timing, but I wrote something like this:
Ten things I remember:
I remember the Michigan state tree is the white pine.
I remember how to push myself on the swing using my own leg muscles.
I remember the sound of my old dog when he’s mad about something.
I remember to turn off the porch light.
I remember to read the jokes on Popsicle sticks before throwing them away.
I remember my old address.
I remember watching our favorite show, Boy Meets World, at my friend Courtney’s house.
I remember to write Christmas cards for my aunts and uncles in Wisconsin even though we hardly know each other.
I remember to put on a smile when someone with a camera says “cheese.”
I remember the Stanley Cup is actually in the summer and not the winter.
Ten things I love:
I love my bedroom window.
I love my friend Sofie.
I love ice cream that turns my mouth different colors, especially Superman ice cream and anything made by Jilbert’s.
I couldn’t finish the “Ten things I love” list. I would have said I love sleeping in my bed, but I’m not sure about that anymore. I would have said I loved my pencil with the dog-shaped eraser, but Dylan had to step on it. I know we have a school store with that cool pencil machine and all, but nothing will be as good as what I had. I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m saying sorry, but I’m sorry. Dylan Beaman sped through the whole thing figuring out what he remembered and loved in less than five minutes. He was one of the first people to put it in Mr. B’s wire basket.
I felt further away from a good answer every time I watched another classmate walk to the front of the room. I felt so far away from everything. For the second time that day, I imagined the giant pink eraser taking me away. I had to snap out of it because soon I was the only one left who hadn’t turned in the assignment. Everyone was looking so bored waiting for me to figure it out, and the clock ticking in the corner was not helping. Some kids even started talking to each other like they had forgotten about me. Couldn’t they see that I was still working? That I’m still here even when I don’t want to be? I have never felt my face get so warm and pink from embarrassment. I’m surprised I didn’t ball up my piece of paper completely.
For some reason, I got scared by the love list. So instead of writing down ten things like I was supposed to, I last-minute decided to draw a picture of Saturn. I read that Saturn always has a storm on it, but somehow all the rings of rocks hold it together. Maybe it’s stupid, but I hope Mr. B understands.
After I finished shading in the planet, I walked in front of the whole class to finally turn in my lists. At that point, the bell had already rung. Courtney blew a bubble with her Spice Girls gum because she was so bored. I didn’t even think gum was allowed at school. I crossed my arms and went back to my desk, my least confident walk yet. My page was half-empty, but I still feel like I shared too much of myself. I hope I didn’t share too much of myself with you either. I’m sorry.
I don’t really have anything else to say, so I drew you the whole entire solar system above. If you want, you can tell me about the things that you love or remember.
Sincerely,
Ellie Beck
Monday, October 13, 1997
Hi.
I hope you like this balloon. In case you happened to find and read any of my recent balloon letters, you can just ignore them. I’m fine now. Today was very nice for the most part.
Dylan Beaman offered me another potato chip at lunch. It was extra yellow and extra salty, and it made me so happy. After that, Sofie and I skipped confident walk practice to talk about cool Halloween costumes that nobody will recognize us in. We’ll see how that goes if I only have pipe cleaners and tinfoil to make something good, but we’ve got good imaginations.
In other news, I actually heard a rumor at school that my old friend Mary said that Gina said that Courtney said that she is cousins with that singer Leanne Rimes. Maybe Courtney has a good imagination too, but I can’t wait to be the one to say “I told you so” when everybody realizes her story isn’t true.
Also, when I got home from school, there was a special about Princess Diana on TV. People got into her face with cameras, just like what happened in the last episode of Boy Meets World. It’s too bad Princess Diana actually died, though. I think my mom even cr
ied about it. I wonder what it’s like to have so many people cry about you. I wonder what it’s like to have the whole world want to see you and take your picture. Just between you and me, I actually got my Picture Day pictures back. I think I get what my mom meant by “ragamuffin.” My hair was all wrong and my face is weird, and I know for a fact that my family won’t be happy to see me in my flannel. All this to say that it’s best that nobody else knows about those photos for now.
Sincerely,
Me
Wednesday, October 15, 1997
Hi,
I’m skipping chocolate milk this week to write a second letter with my allowance money. Mom is mad and tired about something right now. I hope it has nothing to do with me. Dad keeps shouting “I’m doing my best” and “You should try being me.” He yells a lot when they’re alone together downstairs and he is so quiet when he is alone with me upstairs. I’ve even said a prayer asking for all of it to stop. I keep wanting things to just be fine. It hasn’t worked yet.
I wish my biggest problem was still getting to play Uncle Jesse in a game of Full House with my old friends. But it’s not. I’m so tired and I’m so hungry right now, but I really don’t want to go downstairs to look for food. As Uncle Jesse would say, “Lord, have mercy.” I know God doesn’t work this way, but I also said a prayer for a cheese pizza to somehow appear in my room.
I have another prayer too. If that’s not too expensive, maybe you or somebody out there could write something nice about me for The Daily Mining Gazette Sweetest Day announcements? It’s only three days away, and I promise that I will read it and I will be grateful. If you do it, I will even find a way to pay you back. I promise.
