The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

Somehow this is my fault, of course, rather than Nick’s. He tries to solve this problem by glaring at everyone, which only makes matters worse. I seriously cannot wait for school to be done. This probably sounds stupid and dumb to you as you’re traipsing across the jungle or wherever you are currently, but that’s the boring stuff that’s going on at home.

Love and miss you,

Charlotte

* * *

Dear Nate,

Is paper in such scarce supply that you had to rip off the bottom of my letter to write your little message? I don’t even know if it counts as a letter. “Fuck em, keep writing” barely exceeds the length of your greeting. I think in the days of the telegraph, people exchanged longer dispatches. I’m sending you this book of letters between John Quincy Adams and his wife Abigail so that you have a better idea of what a real letter looks like. You could send me a message over the web, you know. Even a picture. We could Skype even. I know. I know. That’s an irrational suggestion because in this day and age of technology, where there’s virtual reality eyewear on every street corner, why would we ever try something like that out.

Your mom told me that when she and your dad wrote to each other they pledged only to write letters rather than send electronic messages. At the last Sunday dinner, I asked her what they wrote about, and she said the weather and that your dad complained about how hot it was. Your dad smirked and said that it was always very hot around your mom. Nick gagged, and your dad playfully cuffed him. It’s adorable that your parents are still so in love with each other. I want that, though. I want what your parents have and what my parents have, don’t you?

Nick and I got in a huge fight the other day. He got a full ride scholarship to Notre Dame for football, which I’m sure you already know. When I told him I hadn’t even applied and I’m not going to, he totally lost it. He’d said that I ruined it. It being all of his plans. I’ve decided not to go to college. It’s just not for me. I’m barely eking by right now, and it’s taking everything I’ve got. I don’t even want to think about how horrible college would be when I’d have to read a thousand pages a night and then be able to spit it out the next day in some coherent fashion. And then there’d be the students who read Tolstoy and Dostoevsky for fun! I had to look up how to spell those names, by the way.

I’m going to stick close to home. I tried to explain to Nick that even if I had applied, I wouldn’t have gotten in. And did he think we would just room together? He’d have to live with the football players, and I’d live in my tiny apartment surrounded by people smarter than me. I’m tired of being around people who are all smarter than me.

He came around. Did he tell you we’ve been playing video games together? It’s good therapy for my hand/eye coordination, according to the docs. One of these days I’m going to beat his ass. If you were here, you would be impressed. I miss you. I wish you were here. Write me longer letters next time.

Love you,

Charlotte

* * *

Dear Nate,

I’m sorry I asked for longer letters. I didn’t realize it was going to make you stop writing at all. I’ve enclosed a full sheet of paper for you in case you don’t have any of your own. Now that Nick is gone, it’s so quiet around here. Your mom and dad drive over for every home game. I’ve taken to going with them because it’s like a tomb at home. I think we should get a dog or something.

I got a job. Dad said that I could work for him, so I started as an assistant to his assistant. He’s really disorganized. Mom says that my scatterbrained behavior comes less from the radiation and mostly from genetics. My day consists of getting up, going to his office trailer, and filing. I had no idea there was so much paperwork when it came to building things. I can safely say that I’ll be looking for another job soon. I’ve never been so bored. Ever.

Nick is loving college, but we are both worried about you. He said he hasn’t heard from you in months. And while that is disturbing, it also made me feel good because at least I know that you weren’t just ignoring me. I’m still waiting for you, just like I promised.

Miss you a thousand times more than the last letter,

Charlotte

* * *

Dear Nate,

I’ve come to the conclusion that letter writing is cathartic. It’s the only rational reason I keep writing despite the fact that you never respond. Did the paper I sent you get destroyed? You’d better not be writing anyone else on my paper. Ha ha ha! Just kidding. Actually I’m not kidding. What are you doing with my paper? You certainly aren’t sending it to me.