Chapter 3 - Max

We had sent our letters back, waited for our replies but the wait was boring and I didn't care if she wrote back or not, yes it had gone by quite fast to say school usually drags and I can't wait to get home. My best friend Caden still lectured me about how mean my letter was. My mom always told me to be nice to girls, well to everyone really but what if this Maisie girl was just playing as a girl and in actual fact, she wasn't? When I wrote the letter, Caden was watching me the whole time, and I couldn't help the smile on my face as I wrote it. His words echoed through my head and a part of me wanted to be nice and respond the way I should have done but I didn't. "Your letter was so mean, bro. You're going to make her cry." Even after school had finished I couldn't help but hear the nagging part of my brain telling me I had done a rubbish thing to her. Was Caden right? Will she cry? I hate seeing my mom cry and I'm only 10.

Heading to school the next morning, I knew it wouldn't be long until we received our letters from their class, and I could only hope she wasn't as annoyed at me as my friend was. We didn't even know her and I planned on never knowing her or meeting her, and he still called me an idiot.

I sat in my fifth-grade classroom, nervously tapping my pen on the desk. Our teacher came in and explained that today was the day that all of our class was getting their letters back from the other school in Texas. The girl I had been hoping wouldn't write back to me when I was around my friends would have probably read that letter and hopefully not cried but was mad and even though I played it cool and subtle around everyone else, a part of me was kind of hoping she wrote back. Deep down I wanted to see if she would write back. So much so that I asked my teacher, Mr. Shaw, if he had any of the letters yet. Luckily for me, he did. I just had to wait for the rest of the morning to go by first, which meant math and then reading. Both sucked.

As the teacher went on about long division, my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't stop thinking about how I would react if I didn't get a letter. I mean she seemed sweet in her letter but then again, Pandas also seem sweet until their not.

Finally, the bell rang for recess, I couldn't get out of the classroom quickly enough! "Max, are you coming?" Caden asks me as I rush to get my lunch.

"No, I'm not hungry, and I have homework to do," and yes, fifth-graders don't like doing homework, which is why I'm doing mine now because it's due after lunch.

For the rest of the day, I couldn't focus on anything else. The letters were handed out, and I decided that I would rather read mine at home and then send a reply from there. My mom usually has stamps and envelopes at home; I'll just put my forwarding address on there instead of the school.

As the final bell rang, I gathered my things and headed home. I got to my room, took the envelope out of my backpack, and ripped the letter open. Nervous was what you could call me, but I tried not to be. I didn't need my brother's finding out about this and then teasing me about it. Granted, I am the second oldest, but the younger two are just as ruthless when it comes to torment as well.

Dear Max,

Your letter sucked major time. First of all, I do love where I live, and it isn't boring at all. Second of all, if you didn't want to write back anything nice, you should have just left the letter and failed your class. I don't like using harsh words because I was taught better than that, but you are a major asshole. I'm glad you have plenty to do in New York, but if you're really up for the challenge, then why don't you go and find a new personality along with that big ego of yours?

I couldn't imagine being your friend now anyway. I sat and wrote 3 letters trying to be nice to you and ended up writing them out of anger to you because I'll repeat it again just in case your small brain doesn't understand. You suck.

I hope the weather is bad over your side of town and the wind takes you somewhere far away and you have no money to get home; wouldn't that be amusing to hear? Anyway, nice not knowing you. I hope you enjoy your life over In the big city you claim to love, I will never write back to you again. And yes, I love cowboy Texas. It has nice people which you are not.

Maisie is out.

I re-read her letter for what felt like the hundredth time. It was crumpled and stained from her tears, but I couldn't help but read it over and over again. The words on the page were etched into my mind. Guilt tricked me into thinking she would be okay with what I wrote. I sighed and crumpled the letter back up, tossing it onto my bed. My good guess is that she was always the dramatic one in her class, but I never thought she would accuse me of being an asshole. It wasn't like that at all. Alright, it was like that... Very much like that, but I didn't need her to know I'm an ass. I'm 10, for Pete's sake. I needed to speak to my best friend. He would know what to say.

Caden and I had been best friends since we were in diapers. Our moms were best friends, and we have practically grown up together. We did everything together, from playing in the park to building forts in the backyard and slide-tackling each other when the mud was soft and we could get dirty.

I remember the one time me and Caden argued because he refused to be on my team for football then called me a cheating player, and I wanted to punch him for it. We soon made up, though. We sat on the swings, talking about our favourite superheroes. We always had a difference of opinion about things; he liked Batman, but I preferred Iron Man.

I decided to go for a walk to clear my head and then maybe ask my mom if I could go to Caden's for tea and discuss what to write in my next letter to Maisie. Once my mom agreed, I rushed off outside, grabbed my bike, and rode to his home, where he was waiting for me on his bike too. He could always tell when something was bothering me, which is what I liked and hated about him.

"Why are you so glum?"

"I got my pen pal's letter today." I opened it up from my pocket and let him read it. His eyes went wide, and then he burst into a fit of laughter. I wasn't expecting that, I mean I was expecting it maybe but It still annoyed me, but I couldn't help but laugh either.

"Oh, please. Does she not know that stubbing your toe doesn't actually hurt?"

I begin laughing again because it does... "I guess that you have never stubbed your toe before."

"No" is all he says as he laughs his ass off.

We spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing before we went inside his house and had tea. As the sun began to set properly, we headed back to our bikes. Caden stopped in front of me and looked into my eyes. "Just write back what you want to write back. Like she said, if you can be mean, then so can she. Play her at her own game." Letting his words sink in my heart was racing as I waited for him to continue whatever it was he was trying to say because I was not sure how to reply to it at all. Thoughts were going everywhere, and if anyone looked at me fretting over a girl, I would be called a lovesick boy. No way. Not happening. I would rather my brothers all punch me before I get called something like that.

I went home, and then I got my notebook and pen out and began writing. I could play her at her own game, I'm sure of it.

Dear Maisie,

If you want to be an ass too, then we shall play that game. I will say that it's a very nice response you gave me in your letter, and if I could, I would probably give you a high five for it, but I can't be bothered to waste that much time thinking about you. You're as useless as the "ueue" in "queue," and that is pretty boring.

Even if I did stub my toe, I wouldn't feel it. Feet of steal me.

Anyway, I played nice, and I felt bad, but now I don't. For your tea tonight, I hope you get served just a plate full of broccoli.

not even your friend, Max.

I sent the letter, and I didn't even feel bad. Much. That was last week, so I should get a response soon. Maybe. I hope she feels bad for what she wrote to me because if not then I am an idiot.

If I could help it, I didn't want to continue writing to someone for much longer if I didn't have to. As I mentioned before, I had all of the right people around me, and I didn't need any more. It wasn't like I was ever going to meet her anyway.

I was the kind of kid who was always surrounded by my friends and loved being the centre of attention. People say that I have a kind heart and I am always willing to help others, and I guess they were right because last week I helped an elderly lady pick up some things she dropped on the floor. Hoping she would give me a packet of cookies...she didn't.

I was a student at a decent-sized school in a busy town in New York. It was a beautiful day, and I couldn't wait to spend it with my friends at school.