Hi, my name is Timothy. I’m your average kid. I get Bs and Cs and I have a dog named Pepper. I don’t have many friends but I’m loyal and I always keep my promises. I’m not very popular. In fact, I’m not popular at all. It’s my junior year of high school and no one seems to notice me. In class, I can be the only person with my hand up and my teacher won’t bother calling on me. I’m pretty much ignored by everyone; except Cathy.
She lives next door to me. She’s not the most popular girl in school, but she has a few friends. I see them in the halls sometimes; Cathy always waives at me. She’s so pretty. She has the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. I think God put the ocean in her eyes and the shimmer of stars in her smile. She’s perfect.
Every lunch period we sit together. This year, it’s the only period we have together. She tells me everything. Some things I want to know, and some I could have done without. When she became a “woman”, I was the first to know. When she first had sex, I was the first to know. When she threw up from drinking way too much, it was me she threw up on. Out of school, we spend a lot of time together; but we won’t ever be a couple, it would ruin our friendship.
Every Friday, Cathy and I go to Cranville Acres. It’s the neighborhood “hang out” spot. We usually sit by the lake and skip stones. When it gets dark we head to Primo’s Ice Cream for milk shakes, then we head home. Cathy didn’t show up this Friday. I hope everything is ok; I called her when I got home.
“Where were you? I got a stone to skip six times today; six big jumps”. Cathy was silent. “Are you there?” “I’m sorry Tim, something came up and I just couldn’t make it today. Next week I’ll definitely be there.” Concerned I asked, “Is everything ok?” in the sweetest voice she replied, “Yes Tim, everything is fine”. It wasn’t like her to miss our Fridays but I suppose everyone is allowed to miss a day every now and then. “See you in school on Monday Cathy” “Bye Tim” and we hung up.
All weekend I had a weird feeling. That phone call just didn’t sit well with me. All my concerns came to life on Monday. There was an eerie feeling in the air as I approached Cathy at her locker. She was getting her books out of her locker when I walked up to her. “Hey Cathy!” she turned to me. She looked as if she hadn’t slept all weekend. She had the darkest circles under her eyes; “rough weekend?” I asked. “I don’t want to talk about it ok” she replied then slammed her locker door and walked away.
Later that day, at lunch, I was sitting at our table and she joined me. She looked at me and then started crying. I immediately got up and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry Tim, I’m so sorry” “For what Cathy? You didn’t do anything.” She hugged me tighter and said, “Don’t ever leave me!” I looked at her confused and replied, “Cathy, we will be best friends forever and I mean that; but what’s wrong?” She said, “I can’t talk about it here but meet me at Primo’s tonight at 8pm” then she got up and left. Cathy was really worrying me now. She’s never been so secretive about anything she’s ever had to tell me.
I got to Primo’s at 7:30pm that night. I thought I should get there early just incase she had the same idea. I was on the edge of my seat; I needed to know what was up now. After waiting outside for a while I decided to go in and get myself a drink. It was almost 8:00pm so as I approached the counter I said, “Primo, Two vanilla milkshakes, extra thick”. He responded, “Hey Tim, you got a date tonight?” “No” I answered, “Just meeting Cathy here in a few” He looked at me confused and said, “Cathy came here earlier today after school, she left this note for you, said she wouldn’t be making it tonight”. He handed me the note and one milkshake, then I sat down in a nearby booth.
I opened then letter, it was definitely Cathy’s handwriting. She always took the time to put little hearts in place of the dot over her Is. The letter read:
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it tonight. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you this in person. I thought if I was face to face with you, I would be confused and embarrassed and not be able to express myself the way I really want to. On Friday, I went home after school and went to my room to put my books away so I could meet you at Cranville. When I got there my dad was sitting on my bed with a bottle of liquor. I didn’t notice at first but when I put my book bag down, he pulled out his pistol and aimed it in my direction and told me to sit down next to him. He made me take my clothes off then took his gun and put it inside me. I was so scared and I cried, telling him to stop. He told me if I made another sound he would pull the trigger. He started sucking on my breasts then he pulled his penis out and made me grab it. As soon as I grabbed it, he came and left the room. I sat on my bed crying after he left and I thought it was over, but this went on all weekend. Tim, I feel so disgusting. He told me that I was a slut just like my dead mother and that I should be happy that a man like him was touching me. I’m worthless Tim. God must hate me if he left him do this to me. So again, I’m sorry that I’m not at Primo’s tonight and I won’t be at Cranville this Friday. At lunch I hugged you tight because that was the last hug I’ll ever give you. I love you Tim; Forever.
As soon as I read that, I ran out of Primo’s and straight to her house. From down the block, I could see flashing red and blue lights. I ran quicker. When I arrived, her entire house was yellow taped and I was denied access into her house. Everyone surrounding her home were whispering stories of murder. Two ambulances stood by for a moment then drove off. I just missed her.
This morning it was all over the news, she was even on the front page of our local paper. The headline read: “Teenage daughter shoots father on mother’s death anniversary”. The article said that Cathy was so enraged about her mother’s death that she took her father’s pistol and shot at him before turning the gun on herself and taking her own life. Cathy was stated to be dead on arrival and her father was in critical condition. The paper managed to get a statement from her father, he said, “She came home and said that she didn’t want me with my new girlfriend, Betsy, and if she couldn’t have me to herself then no one would; and then she shot me.” I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
I skipped school that day to go to the police station and to show them the letter that Cathy had written to me several hours before the incident. The cops read the letter, turned to me, and said, “What kind of sick individual are you? We investigated this crime boy, and her father is a victim. Where do you get off writing these kinds of words on a paper and stirring up this mess? Have you read the newspaper; this crime is a shut case. Now get out of here before we charge you with defamation.”
Has this town gone insane? I couldn’t believe how Cathy was being portrayed. Even after I showed the police what she wrote, they didn’t believe me. Maybe Cathy was right. Maybe God likes a few people and he lets those live happy lives; while the ones he doesn’t like suffer. Why should her father be portrayed as the victim when Cathy was obviously the one who was victimized?
I can’t live in a world where people are like this. If this is life, then I don’t want to live. So, if you are reading this letter then I am already dead. I couldn’t stand being away from Cathy. She’s the only person who has ever cared for me. I promised her that we would be together no matter what. I always keep my promises.