To Pearl Becken:

By the time you read these letters, I'll be dead. Here's how it happened.

* * *

To whom it may concern,

It all started in Slate Middle School, mid-February. You know, the school that used to be a prison. Yeah! They left that fun fact out of the brochure, didn't they?

It was Language Arts class, and we were allowed to do our assignments in English cause we had a substitute that day. I cleared my throat, several times. Damn, it really wasn't sounding good. I was hoarse, and everyone was staring. I tried to speak through it anyway, but oh whoooargh. WHOOARGH. Whoo. Okay. Here's a quick summary of what I read out loud to my class:

My story is about the time my GamePal got stolen in grade four. I was in the middle of playing Gotchimon: Gem Wave. If you know that game, you know why it was a big deal. I asked around, but I didn't have any friends – not even the teacher liked me. She was always spinning my words around, trying to embarrass me. One day I forgot my homework, and she demanded an explanation.
I started to say, "my mom..."
She interrupted- "DID YOU JUST CALL ME 'MOM'?"
Hell no I didn't, cause motherly she wasn't. Didn't matter. It worked every time, cause the kids always took her side.
Back to the case. I couldn't figure out who had what or trace the connections because I barely knew anyone there! I did know one kid, though: Arthur. We talked sometimes, at lunch, cracked jokes. Though we never hung out after school, I sometimes thought of him as a friend.
He told me, "Steve was bragging on the bus about stealing your GamePal."
So I went to Steve.
He said, "It wasn't me."
Trouble was, I believed him – cause Arthur had recently gotten his own GamePal, and Gotchimon: Gem Wave. The cocky prick played it right in front of me at recess.
So I told that mean teacher, "I think Arthur took my GamePal. It was in my backpack during class, and then it was gone. It has a jam-stain on the cartridge, from when I got sloppy at breakfast."
She calls him over, so I can call his bluff. Sure enough, there was my jam stain on the cartridge. He gave up, defeated instantly. I thought he would be happy if I forgave him, but instead? He lashed out at me, and stopped talking to me forever.
He said, "I hope you're happy now, you jerk! Everything is yours, so TAKE IT!!"
What kind of nerve was he on?! He was the one who stole from ME! And the kid he accused wouldn't talk to me, either.
So once again, I had no friends at school. Arthur was angry I took my game back, and Steve was angry I blamed him first. And the teacher was angry I called her Mrs. Bigfoot, for walking all over me. That's how I learned that sometimes, the only person you can trust is yourself... especially if you're a clumsy eater.

I waited for some kind of reaction. The teacher was out doing something else, and there was barely anyone in class. One guy raised his hand – he was the tallest in my grade, making me look normal by comparison. I pointed at him, hoping for some kind of appreciation, or acknowlegement. I've always been a lonely detective, but having a friend wouldn't kill me – not instantly. He cleared his throat, and sucked in the spit around his braces and curled his lips outwardly. It sounded gross, and looked disgusting, but you know the tooth prison wasn't his idea – it never is.
He said, "Doesn't that make you a narc?"
I replied, "What?"
He said, "a tattletale, a snitch."
I said, "I'm the one who got my stuff stolen."
"Yeah, but he obviously just wanted to play and he was to scared to ask you cause he knows you're an uptight snob. If you caught him, you should have just been the better man and let him borrow it."
I asked, "How was I supposed to get him to admit it without a teacher's help?"
"By not being a soft little vegan wussy."
He gets laughs. I got angry.
I stood up straight, and said "I was pounding back steak sandwiches and swimming laps all year, buddy! He was just a little snake who wanted my stuff."
He shot back, "He was your only friend and you snitched him out so you could be lazy with your stupid toys."
I told him to stand up and say that. He was like, "Whoooah, big man here."
I said, "Big enough, let's go. There's no teachers here for me to snitch to."
Then Shirwin was like, "I'll take you!"
Yeah, he has a lackey. The kid who cried wolf when I punched him last year. I regret that out of the eight students who showed up on that February snow day, it was any of us. But Shitbag and his Colossus had it coming. The three of us moved out to the hallway, and I prepared myself for a fight – but instead, they kept walking.
Shirwin said, "What a loser. Thinks he can take us. Right, Grim? Ya Grim Wrecker?"
'Grim' answered, "Yeah, I know. What a spaz."
I was like, "Hey, I'M Grim!"
But he was all, "My name's Gregory Milton Hognose, and so I can say 'Grim Hog' for short. And nobody calls you that anymore. Not since you started calling yourself 'Grim the Reaper' and ruined it."
Shirwin added in, "Yeah, like what are you, some kind of gangster?"
I yelled out, "My grandfather was the Grim freaking Rancher!"
This other Grim, this imposter, said down to me, "So? You're not. You don't even eat meat like everyone else, cause you think you're gonna zombie out like your grand-daddy and get chopped up into a wussy-burger."
Shirwin laughed. "Yeah, wussy-burger!"
I pointed into his chest. "And you're still a Shitbag!"
"No, Drew, my name is Shirwin. SHIR-WIN. Don't worry, you'll get it right one day."
He patted me on the head, and I swatted his hand away. He just laughed. I didn't get the reaction I was hoping for, and they shrugged me off and walked away. Then they realized they were at the wrong end of the hallway and doubled back. I saw my chance! I walked beside them, and suddenly, side-checked Shirwin into the display case on the wall. As he struggled between my shoulders and the wall, I realized how scared he really was, and how sad I'd be to see him seriously hurt. I bopped him one on the head with my fist, though. After two years of bullying and anti-social gate-keeping, I was incredibly angry. I do not have a single friend in the entire school, nothing but tenuous and strained acquaintanceships hanging by the threads of my reputation – and frankly, I'm sick of it. Then Shirwin ran off while I was hesitating. To end a fight without winning or losing was a weird feeling... like wasted electricity. I sighed and went back to my locker, which was unfortunately right next to the other Grim's.
He looked at me and sneered, "Wow, you sure got beat."
I guess my anger got the better of me. It was like, what world is he from, and how'd he get here so damn fast? I did not get 'beat'. I threw the ONLY swing, if I remember right. At least, I think so. I might have gotten jabbed in the stomach. I took off my backpack, and swung it hard into his big, stupid face! It didn't look like he got hurt, exactly, but it was so quick and precise that one of his braces popped off. He was more than a little bit mortified.
He growled, "Oh, you wanna GO?", and stood over me like a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
He punched me, I blocked it. Another, it slid into my ear, only stinging a little. Punch after punch, I blocked, whether it was the gut, face, or throat. Guess I had a good teacher, right? Not you, sorry, I mean Zack. He's got that whole sandbag setup in their garage, he had us fight a few rounds with him on Jet's birthday. I feel like he's a really good match for Adina I'm genuinely happy for her. Anyway!
Back to the fight. Someone tried to break it up, but we ignored them. Then the crowd closed in, and I don't really know what happened next, but Greg was on the floor. I beat him, fair and square! At least I hope so. Like I was saying, maybe I'd sweeped his leg or something, cause I remember trying to kick it. It didn't matter, I went to my locker. He tried to kick me, but it was weak. Then, we got called to the principal's office.
I looked down at him and said, "Wow, you sure got beat."