Fall Letters *On Hold*

August 13, 1986

Dear Tommy,

Stop being so overdramatic. And I thought I was bad. You're acting like we're going to stop being friends just because I'm moving. Across the country... Maybe you're right. No, you know what? We've been best friends since pre-school. Our friendship can survive this.

I think writing each other is a great idea, Tom, maybe one of the best ones you've had. Kidding. Now I can tell you all about how much Maine sucks without my dad yelling at me to get off the phone.

It's the worst. The house smells like old lady. The walls are so thin that I can hear Ben blasting his music when I'm trying to sleep. Mom and Dad won't let me go anywhere because they're afraid I'm going to get lost. And the beach isn't even a real beach. It's just a bunch of rocks overlooking the water. The worst thing about it? You're not here.

God I miss California... Maybe your parents will let me stay with you guys. Would you mind asking? I wouldn't even mind sharing a room with little Kari.

Anyways, I don't know what you're so worried about, Tommy. I haven't made any friends here, yet alone "dozens of boys." And even if I do make friends (which I'm highly doubtful of), there's no way I'd ever forget about you. Do you even know who you are? You're impossible to forget. You're too weird. I'm kidding. But seriously.

It's kind of scary how well we know each other, actually. Like when you were saying goodbye to me, you didn't say much, just giving me your letter, mumbling a "Bye, Bells", and hugging me before I got into the car. But I could see how sad you were. I could tell what you were thinking without even reading your letter, but I'm glad I did read it. I'm glad you wrote it. It's like I have piece of you with me all the way out here in Maine. If only you could actually be out here with me.

Sorry, I'm probably making you feel bad with all my whining. I guess it's not so bad here. It's pretty, even if it's not as pretty as home. Yesterday we went for a walk in the neighborhood and there were a bunch of white wildflowers growing on the side of the road. They were so beautiful I had to save one to show you. Mom helped me preserve it in one of her books. Be careful when you take it out of the envelope, although now that I think about, you probably already did.

Now you have something to remember me by too.

I miss you too,

Belle

P.S. I haven't seen any skateboarders yet, but I'll keep an eye out. But I bet you're right. I'm sure none of them are as good as you.