by Various
I don’t put up my hand. I look around. No one else does either. Then I accidentally catch Miss Carmichael’s eye again. Big mistake.
“I bet you know, don’t you, Clara?” she asks.
I shake my head and stare down at my tabletop. When I look up once more, her right eye is twitching a little at the corner, like it always does when she’s stressed, although it doesn’t usually happen until towards the end of class.
“When was the last time any of you lot wrote a proper letter?” she says.
I look around again. Blank faces. I look back at Miss Carmichael.
She tilts her head. “How about you, Clara?”
Can’t the woman leave me alone? OK, I know she gives me books to bring home, novels mainly, and books on creative writing – we don’t have a school library and the library in town is small – and I know they’re her own books, not the school’s, cos her name’s written in small, neat handwriting inside the front cover, Beth Carmichael; and I do appreciate it, but that doesn’t give her the right to pick on me in class.
Something hits the back of my head. I rub my hair and a ball of chewed-up paper drops to the floor. Disgusting! I swing round. Nessa gazes back at me innocently.
“What, Clawa?” she mouths, purposely mispronouncing my name. Then she turns to Miss Carmichael. “Seriously, miss, letters? Can’t we do something a bit more exciting? Come on, no one writes letters any more.” She fiddles with the collar of her shirt, making sure it’s sticking up the required “cool” amount, and then flicks her poker-straight bleached hair back over her shoulders.
Miss Carmichael is clutching the whiteboard pen so hard her knuckles have turned white. Her chest is heaving up and down under her tight red polo neck and her cheeks are flushed. I don’t think she’s cut out for teaching. And having Nessa in the class can’t make things easy.
“No, Nessa, we can’t,” she says finally, her voice only wobbling a little bit. “We’re doing letter writing and that’s final. You’ll all be writing to students at a school in Toronto called St Xavier’s. Toronto’s the largest city in Canada for anyone who’s not hot on geography.” She looks at pointedly Nessa.
I perk up a little. Toronto. That sounds interesting. But from the bored expressions around me, I can tell no one else agrees.
Miss Carmichael continues. “You’re going to write a letter in longhand for homework. At least half an A4 page, please, and we’ll check them over in class tomorrow for layout and spelling. Then I’ll post them all, and hopefully in about two weeks you’ll get a letter back from your pen pal in Toronto. Those of you who would like to continue writing to their new friends after that can. But the first letter is compulsory.”
Nessa is waving her hand around in the air. “What are we supposed to say?”
“Just tell them about your life,” Miss Carmichael says. “The kind of clothes and music you like, that sort of thing. It will be a wonderful cultural exchange.”
“Hang on” – Nessa’s eyes brighten and she sits up a little – “are there any boys at this St Xavier’s place, miss?”
“It is a mixed school, yes, but I’ve asked for girls.”
Nessa groans, but I for one am hugely relieved. I wouldn’t have a clue what to say to a boy. They’re like an alien species to me. And no normal boy in his right mind would be interested in me, and that’s a fact.
Miss Carmichael hands out sheets of paper with the Canadian students’ names on them. Mine says Alex Goodman.
Summer Cottage
Haven
West Cork
Ireland
Monday, 3 September
Dear Alex,
How are you? What’s the weather like in Canada?
I stop writing and wince. Did I really just ask my new pen pal about the weather? How pathetic. I try again.
Dear Alex,
I hope this finds you well.
That’s even worse! Now I sound like an old granny.
Dear Alex,
I’m Clara McCarthy and I live in Haven, a village in West Cork, which is in the south of Ireland. I doubt if you’ve heard of Haven; it’s pretty tiny! What’s Toronto like? It’s the biggest city in Canada, right? I look forward to hearing all about it. I think this letter-writing cultural exchange thing is pretty cool. Most of the girls in my class think it’s “like, lame-o” and “seriously sad” but they’re complete eejits (that’s Irish for dorks!). You have to imagine them flicking their hair back and adjusting the collars of their shirts when they say this (in a fake American accent – they think it’s cool to sound American).
I’m thirteen and I’m in second year at St Belinda’s College in Skibbereen. It’s about five miles from my house. I live with my mum, Olga. She works part-time as a teaching assistant in the local primary school. She’s pretty OK for a mum. Our teacher, Miss Carmichael, said we should tell you about the kind of things we’re into, so here goes: I like reading (a lot!), writing (I’m writing a book about a girl and her guardian angel at the moment but I’ve only done three chapters), taking photographs of the sea and nature and stuff. I like music with a strong beat, rock mainly. And I also like pizza: does that count as something I’m into?
That’s about it, really. How about you?
I’ve enclosed some photos of where I live – Haven village, our house, and the lough (lake) near us, Lough Hyne. It’s a saltwater lake, which is pretty unusual. Mum’s really into kayaking so we do that a lot on the lough in the summer. Anyway, hope you like the photos.
Yours sincerely,
Clara McCarthy
212 Stanford Mills
Richmond Hill
Ontario
Canada
Friday, September 14
Dear Clara,
Thanks for your letter. I’m really into proper letters. I know it’s old-fashioned and everything, but I think letters are really cool. Like a bite of history. No one ever keeps emails in a shoebox for years, right?
I’m totally psyched to have an Irish pen pal. My mom’s from Ireland, a place called Kerry. She’s always talking about growing up there and it sounds awesome. She met Dad at the hospital in Toronto where they both work. She’s a doctor; he’s a pharmacist. It was love at first prescription apparently. You call them prescriptions in Ireland, right, not scripts?
So what am I into? Pizza, too, I guess! And, like you, I read a lot. I love books by Irish authors like James Joyce; he’s really cool. I write poems sometimes and short stories, but I’m impressed that you’re writing a whole book – how awesome is that?!
I’m kind of interested in being a surgeon some day, but don’t tell Mom that – she’d freak out. She’s always saying medicine is a mug’s game; bad conditions, lousy pay, ridiculous hours, yadda yadda yadda, but she doesn’t mean it. I know she gets a big kick from her job. She works at SickKids (short for Hospital for Sick Children, but no one calls it that) – she’s a consultant paediatric oncologist (thank God for spell check, right?!) and she’s always talking about “her” kids.
I also play a lot of hockey. Music-wise I like U2 – they’re Irish, right? My mom got me into them and they rock. I also like the Chili Peppers.
My school is OK, I guess. Oh, and my teacher’s Irish – Mrs Jackson, she’s from Cork originally. You Paddies sure get around! You asked about Toronto… Well, I live in Richmond Hill, which is about twelve miles from downtown Toronto, with my mom and dad. Toronto’s pretty big – two and a half million people – and it’s on this lake called Lake Ontario. It’s starting to get cold here and the winters are freezing, but not as cold as in the north; it gets insanely cold up there. Sorry, talking about the weather – how lame is that?!
Can’t think of anything else to say right now. Do you know anything about Kerry? Have you any photos of it? You’re an amazing photographer by the way. And that lake really is something! The photo of the mossy trees hanging over the water is my favourite. Those trees have such character – they look like little old ladies, all stooped over and everything. Y
ou’ve got one hell of a talent, Clara!
Best wishes,
Alex
PS Sorry for blabbing on so much. As I said, I like writing and I get a bit carried away sometimes. Mrs Jackson said some of you might like to write on a regular basis, like proper pen pals. Are you up for it? I sure am! What do you think? I hope you write back and say yes!!!
Haven
Ireland
Thursday, 27 September
Dear Alex,
Thanks for your letter. I’d love to be pen pals. And I agree, there’s something really special about proper letters, especially ones that have flown the whole way over the Atlantic. And you weren’t blabbing on at all. I really liked hearing about your mum and her job and everything. It must be amazing, being able to help people like that, especially kids.
My dad’s from Kerry too, a place called Dingle. It’s famous for its dolphin, Fungi. Not that I see him all that much. Dad, I mean, not Fungi! He and Mum split up when I was three. Sorry, I don’t know why I just told you that. Anyway, Kerry’s lovely. I’ll print some photos out for you.
You said you live with your mum and dad; I’m an only child too. There’s just me and Mum and we’re pretty close. I don’t know what I’d do without her. I feel like I can tell her anything, like when this girl at school, Nessa, started calling me names and basically being a real bitch. I told Mum about it and she went ballistic, threatened to sue the school and everything. I was offered a place in a boarding school in Dublin last year and Mum wanted me to take it, but I couldn’t leave her on her own like that. It wouldn’t be fair. Not after everything she’s done for me. Besides, I’d miss her too much. I hope I’m not boring you with all this personal stuff. Sometimes it’s easier to write things down, you know.
I hate school. I try really hard but I’m really behind. I know I’m not thick or anything, it’s just the way some of the teachers teach doesn’t suit me and it’s hard to keep up. I’m pretty good at English, though. Mum says it’s cos I read so much.
Speaking of books, what else do you like to read? I like all kinds of things – paranormal romance, books about angels, real-life stories – but my favourite writer is John Green. I LOVE John Green! He’s American, right?
That’s it for now.
Bye,
Clara XXX
Ontario
Canada
Wednesday, October 24
Hey Clara,
Thanks for your letter and the photos of Kerry. It looks like a really beautiful place. Mom’s always saying she’s gotta go back for a visit and I can see why. I Googled that dolphin, Fungi. He’s a big star, on YouTube and everything. Sorry you don’t get to see your dad much. Loads of my friends’ folks are divorced and I know it sucks. But I guess it’s better than hearing them argue all the time, right? Anyway, your mom sounds nice and I like hearing about your life and everything, so don’t worry about that at all.
I’m sorry to hear about school too, and Nessa. I used to get kicked around by this kid in middle school, so I know what that’s like, believe me. I was kind of short for my age, but I’ve caught up. I’m one of the tallest in the class now.
I wasn’t always an only child. I had a little sister, Becca, but she died last fall. She was out on her scooter one day, and this car swerved to avoid a dog and skidded onto the sidewalk and hit her. Mom still can’t talk about it much; it really cut her up. Sometimes I’ll go into her study, late, and she’s just sitting there, staring at the screen, like a zombie. But she’s a lot better than she used to be. Whoa, serious stuff! Sorry about that. I know what you mean about writing being easier than talking – it feels good to be able to tell you things, you know, personal stuff.
And I can’t believe you like John Green. Me, too! Will Grayson, Will Grayson is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read! We have so much in common, Clara, seriously – it’s spooky! And I have something to tell you. I was lying about reading Joyce, trying to big myself up. Sorry! I did try reading Ulysses once but it was too freaking weird. I’m not much into books about vampires or angels, I have to tell you. Movie-wise, I’m crazy about classic sci-fi stuff like The Matrix and Star Wars. Man, are they good to watch! I’ve seen them all hundreds of times!
OK, better motor, hockey practice tonight.
Later, Alex X
Haven
Ireland
Thursday, 1 November
Dear Alex,
I was so sorry to read about Becca. That’s really tragic. I can understand why your mum was (and still is) devastated. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a little sister or a daughter.
I had a really crap day in school today and reading your letter helped me realize that there are worse things than stupid girls saying stupid things. I hope you don’t mind if I get it off my chest, though. Nessa Winkleman is such a cow. Sometimes I pronounce words wrong and she teases me about it, saying them back to me in a horrible mouthy way, like I’m slow. I can’t tell Mum about it, cos she’ll freak out and storm into the school again and threaten the head; and it didn’t do any good the last time she did that. Nessa stopped picking on me for a while, but then she just started up again. I try to ignore her, but she stands right in my face, or throws things at me. It’s starting to really get to me. And I have five more years of her to put up with – help!
I’m too tired to write any more, I’m afraid. I haven’t been sleeping very well and I’m wrecked.
Write soon. Your letters make my days a lot brighter (sorry, that sounds a bit hippy-dippy, I know!). And telling you my problems really helps. I feel like I can tell you anything. You like REAL things, like books and movies and writing, not like the girls in my school, who are complete airheads and are only interested in boys and clothes. It’s pathetic. There’s more to life than having a boyfriend and the right skinny jeans! Don’t get me wrong, I like boys and everything, but I’m not completely obsessed like they are.
Thanks for being there,
Clara XXX
PS I love the Star Wars films too. I used to watch them with my dad every weekend – he’s a huge fan. The Empire Strikes Back is my favourite. Gotta love Yoda! “Meditate on this I will.”
PPS I meant to ask – are you on Facebook? We should hook up. Our Internet’s been down for the last few weeks, which is a real pain, but Mum’s getting it fixed tomorrow.
PPPS I’ve enclosed the first chapter of my book, Broken Wings. Please tell me if you think it’s awful. I’d really appreciate your honest opinion.
I feel a zing of excitement. The Internet is finally working again and I’m dying to find Alex on Facebook. I don’t know why I didn’t suggest it before. We’ve been writing letters and emails to each other for two months now. I know it sounds crazy, but it already feels like we’re old friends. I don’t really have any close friends, so it means a lot to me and I’m dying to see some photos of her.
I wolf down my breakfast, then park myself in front of the computer and click straight into Facebook. I type “Alex Goodman, Canada” into the search bar, and a second later five faces stare back at me from their small profile boxes. But they’re all boys. I try again. This time I type “Alex Goodman, Toronto”. Two faces: a white-haired man, and a boy of about my age or a little older with a mop of dark curly brown hair, bright blue eyes and a lopsided smile. That can’t be right. Out of curiosity, I check the younger Alex’s info.
School St Xavier’s College
Music U2, Red Hot Chili Peppers
Sport Ice hockey
St Xavier’s … U2 … Chili Peppers … ice hockey! I start to feel a little faint. It all fits. Alex is a boy. A boy! I’ve been telling all my secrets to a bloody Canadian boy. I think back through my letters, feeling physically sick. I’ve told him everything – all about Nessa, Mum, Dad, even Fungi the dolphin, for God’s sake. And I sent him a chapter of my angel romance. Cringe! He must think I’m such an idiot. And that last letter, about how “she” was different from other girls. Oh dear God! How stupid am I? I put my head in my
hands. What the hell do I do now?
Ontario
Canada
Saturday, November 24
Dear Clara,
Are you OK? You haven’t written for ages and I’m kinda worried about you. Listen, I have news. Mom doesn’t want to spend Christmas at home on account of Becca and everything, and her sister, Mona, is always on at her to visit over the holidays, so this year I think Mom is going to take her up on the offer. We’re going to Kerry! That’s really near Cork, right?
Have to study now, tests soon, but isn’t it awesome? Maybe we can meet up.
Alex X
PS The girls in your class sound totally lame – we have girls like that in our school too! *pulls nasty face*
PPS I’m no angel expert but your chapter rocked. You can really write, Clara! Send me more. I have to find out what happens to Romie and Azeth (great name for a fallen angel, by the way!).
Haven
Ireland
Saturday, 8 December
Dear Alex,
I’m so sorry, but we’re going to be away for Christmas. And I’m really behind with my studies, so I’m afraid I’ll have to stop writing to you. It’s been an amazing cultural experience and I wish you all the best in the future. I hope you enjoy Kerry and Fungi.
Yours,
Clara
December 18
Clara,
WTF? I thought we were friends. Tell me your last letter was a joke. What’s going on? I’m freaking out here.
Alex
Miss Carmichael holds me back after class. “Clara, can I have a word with you, please?” she asks.
I can’t believe she’s doing this. It’s the very last class before the Christmas holidays, and I just want to get out of here.
