Chapter 3: Postcard

John POV

“A prank?” I wondered as we strolled out of the clothing shop and headed for the movie theater. Blake had been raving about a movie that had just come out, and since we had the night off, I decided to take her and her friends to see it. I wasn't expecting to bump into Billie, who was shopping with her new friend Ann in a boutique. Honestly, Billie didn’t need any more clothes; she had plenty of oversized clothes at home.

“Yes,” Blake said. “I want to pull a prank on her that will freak her out so much she'll drop out of school. I need her to stop embarrassing me everywhere I go.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Blake's best friend added.

“ she your sister? Wouldn't that be too harsh? And wasn't she your ex, John?” Stephen chimed in.

I shoot a look at him. “stop saying that man I don't like it. She is just a freak you know I dated her for her brain to get me that grade. And I was even trying to reconsider her but when she is damn not reducing her weight and she is putting on more pounds I have no choice but to drop her. I didn't love her she is just a pushover”

Blake laughed.” oh my love I know you don't like her and you just keep me getting jealous whenever I see the two of you together and I was wondering have he dumped me for her ?”

“Mama thought she had a real boyfriend and had to stick to him her whole time,” Mimi said. Steve laughed.

We moved in to get the tickets for the movie while Blake and her friends stayed outside and waited we went in to get tickets for the movie.

Blake one thing I like about her was all about her. Her shape, her looks, her beauty and her mature manner and she is also one of the popular girls in school I mean the popular one, not some old fatty lady who doesn't know their place in society. You know for a moment when I was dating her sister Billie I thought she was cool. But she wasn't cool, she was smart and intelligent but she didn't have good looks and a figure. I hated even hanging out and pretending I loved her. Even being with her makes me want to puke but I hadn't got a choice. But I liked Billie for one thing that I didn't about Blake. She is nice and gentle and always wants to help people unlike Blake who is hot-tempered and rude but it's okay I love her like that and I thought Billie was just pretending to be good since no one likes her.

“Hey man, we better go,” Steve said, nagging me.

“Oh yeah, let’s go watch a movie,” I replied, walking out of the ticket booth to find our girls. I glanced over at the boutique where Billie was still shopping with her friends. A bike was parked outside, and a slender figure sat on it, watching through the glass. He seemed to be focused on Billie, but I had a feeling it was Ann he was looking at. The way Billie moved caught his attention, and he adjusted to follow her every motion.

What was wrong with him? Why was he looking at her? Who was this guy?

I shook my head; I didn’t care. I didn’t love her, and it wasn’t my concern. But something about the situation made me want to know who he was, and seeing him look at her made me angry. What was all this about? I didn’t love her, and I didn’t even think she was that great, so why was I worrying about her?

This is just foolish.

**Billie POV**

The ride home was quick and smooth. Even though it was late at night and I was feeling tired, the encounter with Blake and John at the movies occupied my thoughts. I reminded myself that we weren't dating anymore. We had never really been dating, to begin with.

I got out of the cab after it parked a few feet from my house. Ann had gotten off a few kilometers before me since she lived with her aunt in a bungalow a bit farther away. I paid the taxi fare because Ann had covered the cost of the clothes she bought for me. We always split the bills. That's one of the great things about having friends.

Speaking of clothes, I shifted the leather bag to see all the items we had shopped for. It felt heavy, and I wondered what else she had put in it. I had seen her with a few coat bags and some clothes, but with this weight, I suspected she had added some extras when I wasn't looking. If my mom were to see all this, she would question me since I already had a lot of clothes at home—big ones that fit me, though I felt embarrassed to wear them. Being on the heavier side, I couldn’t wear the slim-fit styles as Blake did, so I just endured it. I hoped Ann had chosen some larger clothes that would fit me. That is if she knew my size.

“Hey, Mom!” I greeted as soon as I entered the large living room, decorated with a Christmas tree and bells. Christmas was approaching, and it had been a while since I had remembered. I didn’t have any friends to spend it with, but now that Ann was around, I guessed this Christmas would be worth it.

“Hey,” her voice drifted back from the noise of frying food in the kitchen. She must have been busy making dinner, so she didn’t have time for me. Well, she never really had time, either. It was always about Blake. Since I wasn’t going to get much of a reaction, I decided to head upstairs.

When Mom walked out of the kitchen, her hair tied into a knot—her cooking look—and wearing her apron, she still looked beautiful, just like Blake. But something seemed strange; she was holding a card in her hands instead of a spoon.

“This is for you,” she said, handing it to me. “I wonder what phones are for these days when someone still goes around sending postcards. I found this in the postcard stands outside, and it has your name on it.”

A postcard with my name on it? What was she saying? No one had ever sent me anything before, not even a phone call—except from Ann.

“Are you sure?” I asked her. She nodded.

“Yeah, take a look.”

I took the card from her. It was true; my name was inscribed on it, with a heart attached at the bottom. Who could...

“I think someone finally has time for you,” she added with a smile as if I had just gotten a boyfriend like Blake. I felt like I was on top of the world, but then I just stared at the card blankly.

This isn’t a dream—my name is right there. I wanted to open it, but I stopped myself. It could be a trick from someone at school, or maybe it’s from Blake, her friends, or John. I felt uncertain.

“What’s that?” Blake asked from behind me as she walked into the living room with Dad by her side.

“Hey, Billie,” he said with a smile. I smiled back. It felt strange; this is how my dad and I greeted each other—no hugs. I don’t know if he’s afraid to hug me because of my size, worried that I might squeeze the air out of him. Mom could only give a brief hug, and that was it, while Blake received hugs, kisses, and cuddles from both of them.

“Nothing, just that someone sent Billie a postcard,” Mom said.

Blake and Dad exchanged glances. “Postcards??”

Mom nodded. “It may be from her friends. I’m just glad someone else besides that girl is being friendly with her.”

Blake laughed. “No, Mom, don’t think of it like that. Billie has no friends; she is always lonely. Except for Ann, no one speaks or talks to her. I just hope it’s not from one of her bullies.”

I looked at her. She smiled. She might be right; it could be from her friends or her bullies. I placed the card on the sofa. “I don’t think I should read it.”

“No, it’s okay,” Dad chimed in. “Open it and see who it is from. It might be exciting.” He wore that mischievous smile I recognized. I knew what that meant, but I wasn’t going to let it go his way. So, I picked up the card and opened it, feeling Blake’s curious red eyes fixated on me.

What could it be? Is a hate card full of insults or a friendly letter from someone? I thought about it as I carefully opened it. I swallowed hard as I revealed the paper and struggled to look at it. When I finally mustered the courage to read it, I was dumbfounded. I stood there for what felt like an hour.

When I finally regained my composure, Blake asked, “What’s in there? Why are you surprised? It’s a trick, right? I know it. Why would someone like you be expecting kind-hearted words?” She laughed.

“No, it’s not a trick,” I told her. “It’s probably sweet words from someone who thinks I am beautiful.” Even as I said it, I couldn’t fully believe those words myself, but that’s exactly what it was—someone I did not know reaching out to me.

Except for the name he wrote at the bottom, "MN," what does that mean?

“Read the letter,” Dad's harsh voice said. I braced myself.

“Hi Billie, it’s a shame to meet you like this. I could have called or seen you in person, but I chose not to for certain reasons.” I paused, wondering what those reasons were. I continued reading, “Do not get me wrong; it isn't because of who you are, but something else. I have always watched you from a distance, and how people describe you is not how I see you. To me, you are someone who has made me realize that hope still exists. Your posture doesn't define you—your spirit does. Do not be concerned about what those people say. They call you fat, ugly, and even an alien, but to me, you are my angel. They are just jealous of who you are. I heard your twin say she isn’t your sister, and your boyfriend abandoned you after using you. They do not see beyond their narrow views. I love you for who you are and am willing to see you differently when we meet.

This is a short introduction, but you can call me MN, as you saw at the bottom. Nice meeting you, angel. See you soon. MN”

I finally exhaled after reading it through; I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath for what felt like ten minutes. MN? Who is this person? It felt as if I were in a fantasy, but when the wail of Blake reached my ears and her red eyes fell on me, I knew it was reality.

“How dare...?” she fumed, but her disappointment silenced her. “I will get you for this, Billie.” Then she stormed upstairs. Dad had been watching me the whole time, and finally, he spoke.

“I’ll go talk to Blake. See you around dinner,” he said to Mom and shot me a cold look. Mom nodded. After he went upstairs, she smiled at me. “Help me set the table, would you?”

I nodded. She was the only one not angry. Then came the worst thing she had ever done, which made me want to puke. She patted me on the shoulder.

“Good work, Billie,” was all she said. What? I hadn’t done anything special; it was the letter that had done it, and that was thanks to my guardian angel. That’s what I would call him.

But who is he?