Chapter 12
My mom had me drive Peter to school yesterday, the day before, and today, even though he has a car of his own. She has officially taken over my role of making sure Peter goes to school and comes home.
"Sorry about making you wake up so early," Peter apologizes as he gets into the car.
I wave my hand around. "It's honestly not a big deal at all. What do you have to do anyways?"
"I'm taking some photos for the yearbook."
I nod and look at the camera in his hands. "I want to see some of your photos."
He sucks his breath, making a hissing noise. "Yeah, I'm not going to let you look at photos while you're driving. Miles informed me about your speeding."
I roll my eyes. "First of all, I had a justifiable reason for that. Second of all, I meant once we got to school."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh," I mimic in mock annoyance.
He chuckles slightly and rests his head against the window. I hear him humming along to the song playing, which I find adorable.
When we get to school, I park and take out the keys. It's only six in the morning. "Alright. Go take your photos. I'll be here sleeping."
He laughs. "Thanks for the ride, Grace. You know, I kind of like having pretty chauffeur," he says, glancing at me shortly with a small smile before getting out of the car.
I shake my head, trying to hide my blushing cheeks. My eye catches a piece of paper lying on the seat. It must've fallen from Peter's backpack or something. I grab it to make sure it's nothing important, like for his pictures or something.
I didn't expect what I found.
October 20th, 2012
Dear Peter the Great,
I decided to write you a letter again instead of texting or calling you. And, I'm in my room watching home videos with Ali. I'm so retro. But I guess I just like writing better. It's just putting everything out there.
Anyways, I noticed you seemed a bit upset today. Braden thinks it has to do with Stacy Farrow. But I told him it would most likely have something to do with her mom. Though, I know the real reason you were upset. And I hate that you let them bring you down like that.
So, the point of me writing this horribly old-fashioned letter was to tell you how damn thankful I am to have you in my life.
You're my best friend. You're so special, Pete. You can't let those assholes let you think differently. Braden loves you. Cassie loves you. Em loves you. Miles loves you. And I love you. You're so loved. Don't forget it.
You're goddamn amazing, Peter Watson.
Love the greatest person you'll ever meet,
Andrew
Dropping the note to the floor, I start crying like I always do when I think about Andrew and all that I gave up. I was so absolutely stupid. How could I possibly think that being popular would be better than losing Andrew? Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be worse than losing him.
I miss his messy handwriting when he'd write me silly notes about how cool I am. I miss his jokes that would always brighten my day. I miss his loving self. I miss his hugs. I miss him. I just miss my best friend.
I punch the steering wheel, hating myself with each memory of Andrew.
There's a rush of wind as someone climbs into the car. I feel a hand rub my back and another hand lift my chin. I'm met with Peter's worried eyes. He doesn't say anything, just offers a sweet smile.
