My Last Letter

By , toledo, OH
Dear Grammy,
It has been a rough three months since that horrible night. I still miss mom and dad, but I miss you the most. You were always there for me when they would yell at each other. You always told me just the right things, but now you’re gone and I have only this book you gave me for my birthday. I wish you were here to help me. If you were here I wouldn’t have to go to the public school. All the kids there think I’m a spoiled brat. I haven’t yet had the confidence to tell them I’m now orphaned. They wouldn’t understand like you would.

Today at lunch, I walked in and most of the kids were already sitting with each other. I scanned around the circle cafeteria for an open table. The low, moldy ceiling and thick, dark walls made the room seem to speak the word “death”. The grim on the window seemed to snuff out all incoming light. I crept over to a particularly animated bunch seated at one of the tables. They seemed to be talking cute boys. I anxiously asked, “D-Do you think I could sit here?” as I gestured toward an empty seat. All seven girls glared at me as If I had just shown up to a dance wearing the same dress. It was obvious after a few rude jeers about me I was not welcome. Each table I went to rejected me.

The next day in school didn’t go much better. Afterwards, on the bus back to the orphanage no one would move for me so I had to stand in the isle. While standing there I overheard one of the girls who glared at me during lunch the other day speaking loudly to her other friends who were laughing. I moved in closer to hear what they were saying. “Oh my god, that new girl is such a freak. I heard from Tina that she’s left like seven different schools because nobody liked her.” This was not true, well partially true. I have dropped out of one school, but seven? How could such a terrible variation of the truth been spread? Why can’t things be like they used to be before that car crash?

Before school the next day I asked some people who this Tina was, but they all gave a similar rude response, “I’m not telling you, you little freak”. I had no luck finding who she was, and no one wanted to talk to me. It was happening all over again; just like the last school. One person even stole my phone and threw it in the toilet, just like at my previous school. It seemed like everybody was determined to make me as lonely and miserable as possible. First the rumors were spread, and then people started believing them. The feelings of isolation and loneliness were more painful than 1,000 shots to the heart. I couldn’t stop it. There was only one thing left to do.

No matter who I spoke to, they didn’t seem to care about me. They only cared about themselves. I tried to talk to the warden of the orphanage, but she said she was too busy, and she would talk to me later. I’ve heard that before. She’ll never have time for me. Nobody ever had time for me; nobody except for you. This will be the last letter I’ll write to you. I hope I see you soon.





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Harebelle This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 15, 2011 at 7:06 pm
This was very sad, but very well written. I like how it was written as a letter, because it makes the last line really stand out. Just a suggestion, I found the sentence 'one person even stole my phone and threw it in the toilet, just like at my previous school' was a bit awkward- I think you could just put in an 'again' and it would make sense in the context of the sentence before. Great job! 
 
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