To the kid who broke into my neighbor’s car last Thursday. I just wanted to say, was it worth it?
You had you whole life ahead of you, excited for your 16th birthday coming up in two weeks. Waiting, impatiently, wondering if you present was going to be a car so you could just drive and drive and forget about the letter you’d found. You were looking for that frilly black top to wear on your first official date with Zeke, the star basketball player, when it fell from the top shelf of your mother’s closet.
The letter was written on the finest of paper with soft, poufy clouds floating at the top with the sun’s rays poking through. The letter, with its curvy words, was full of fancy embellishments; every word, every letter full of anticipation, new beginnings, and new possibilities.
The name at the bottom, “James,” wasn’t familiar, but the stationary was. You knew that your science teacher, Mr. Caswell, had that same kind of paper because he let you use it once to write a note. You didn’t think about his first name until you saw it in your mother’s possession. Then, when you dug the a little deeper, you saw your mother’s own stationary, with nature scenery on it, and you noticed that some were missing.
And when you cuddled with your father one night when your mother was “out,” you got very angry and decided that you did not want “James” Caswell to have any embellished words written from your mother. You decided to visit your teacher, since he lived three houses over, to search and retrieve any such letters. But alas, you found none in his house.
So, one night, you slipped outside, when all the houses were dark, and you knew everyone would be asleep. You went over to “James’” car. Your heart was pounding in your ears, giving you a slight headache. You peeked in the window. The light from the moon shone in, and you could see some papers with nature scenes on them. A rush of anger surged through you, and you punched the window. Ignoring the pain, you grabbed the letters, and ran around the block, once, before climbing up the tree and going into your bedroom window.
Now, you sit in the office at school writing down this letter “to the kid who broke into my neighbor’s car last Thursday”. Waiting, impatiently wondering, what your fate will be.
P.S. To answer your question: Yes it was.