From Part One

August 25, 1991

Dear friend,

I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try tosleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don'ttry to figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and Ireally don't want you to do that. I will call people by different names orgeneric names because I don't want you to find me. I didn't enclose a returnaddress for the same reason. I mean nothing bad by this. Honest.

I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn'ttry to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that thesepeople exist.

I think you of all people would understand that because I think you of allpeople are alive and appreciate what that means. At least I hope you do becauseother people look to you for strength and friendship and it's that simple. Atleast that's what I've heard.

So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'mstill trying to figure out how that could be.

I try to think of my family as a reason for me being this way, especially aftermy friend Michael stopped going to school one day last spring and we heard Mr.Vaughn's voice on the loudspeaker.

"Boys and girls, I regret to inform you that one of our students has passed on.We will hold a memorial service for Michael Dobson during assembly this Friday."

I don't know how news travels around school and why it is very often right.Maybe it was in the lunchroom. It's hard to remember. But Dave with the awkwardglasses told us that Michael killed himself. His mom played bridge with one ofMichael's neighbors and they heard the gunshot.

I don't really remember much of what happened after that except that my olderbrother came to Mr. Vaughn's office in my middle school and told me to stopcrying. Then, he put his arm on my shoulder and told me to get it out of mysystem before Dad came home. We then went to eat french fries at McDonald's andhe taught me how to play pinball. He even made a joke that because of me he gotto skip an afternoon of school and asked me if I wanted to help him work on hisCamaro. I guess I was pretty messy because he never let me work on his Camarobefore.

At the guidance counselor sessions, they asked the few of us who actually likedMichael to say a few words. I think they were afraid that some of us would tryto kill ourselves or something because they looked very tense and one of themkept touching his beard.

Bridget who is crazy said that sometimes she thought about suicide whencommercials come on during TV. She was sincere and this puzzled the guidancecounselors. Carl who is nice to everyone said that he felt very sad, but couldnever kill himself because it is a sin.

This one guidance counselor went through the whole group and finally came to me.

"What do you think, Charlie?"

What was so strange about this was the fact that I had never met this manbecause he was a "specialist" and he knew my name even though I wasn't wearing aname tag like they do in open house.

"Well, I think that Michael was a nice guy and I don't understand why he did it.As much as I feel sad, I think that not knowing is what really bothers me."

I just reread that and it doesn't sound like how I talk. Especially in thatoffice because I was crying still. I never did stop crying.

The counselor said that he suspected that Michael had "problems at home" anddidn't feel like he had anyone to talk to. That's maybe why he felt all aloneand killed himself.

Then, I started screaming at the guidance counselor that Michael could havetalked to me. And I started crying even harder. He tried to calm me down bysaying that he meant an adult like a teacher or a guidance counselor. But itdidn't work and eventually my brother came by the middle school in his Camaro topick me up.

For the rest of the school year, the teachers treated me different and gave mebetter grades even though I didn't get any smarter. To tell you the truth, Ithink I made them all nervous.

Michael's funeral was strange because his father didn't cry. And three monthslater he left Michael's mom. At least according to Dave at lunchtime. I thinkabout it sometimes. I wonder what went on in Michael's house around dinner andTV shows. Michael never left a note or at least his parents didn't let anyonesee it. Maybe it was "problems at home." I wish I knew. It might make me misshim more clearly. It might have made sad sense.

One thing I do know is that it makes me wonder if I have "problems at home" butit seems to me that a lot of other people have it a lot worse. Like when mysister's first boyfriend started going around with another girl and my sistercried for the whole weekend.

My dad said, "There are other people who have it a lot worse."

And my mom was quiet. And that was that. A month later, my sister met anotherboy and started playing happy records again. And my dad kept working. And my momkept sweeping. And my brother kept fixing his Camaro. That is, until he left forcollege at the beginning of the summer. He's playing football for Penn State buthe needed the summer to get his grades right to play football.

I don't think that there is a favorite kid in our family. There are three of usand I am the youngest. My brother is the oldest. He is a very good footballplayer and likes his car. My sister is very pretty and mean to boys and she isin the middle. I get straight A's now like my sister and that is why they leaveme alone.

My mom cries a lot during TV programs. My dad works a lot and is an honest man.My Aunt Helen used to say that my dad was going to be too proud to have amidlife crisis. It took me until around now to understand what she meant by thatbecause he just turned forty and nothing has changed.

My Aunt Helen was my favorite person in the whole world. She was my mom'ssister. She got straight A's when she was a teenager and she used to give mebooks to read. My father said that the books were a little too old for me, but Iliked them so he just shrugged and let me read.

My Aunt Helen lived with the family for the last few years of her life becausesomething very bad happened to her. Nobody would tell me what happened then eventhough I always wanted to know. When I was around seven, I stopped asking aboutit because I kept asking like kids always do and my Aunt Helen started cryingvery hard.

That's when my dad slapped me, saying, "You're hurting your aunt Helen'sfeelings!" I didn't want to do that, so I stopped. Aunt Helen told my father notto hit me in front of her ever again and my father said this was his house andhe would do what he wanted and my mom was quiet and so were my brother andsister.

I don't remember much more than that because I started crying really hard andafter a while my dad had my mom take me to my room. It wasn't until much laterthat my mom had a few glasses of white wine and told me what happened to hersister. Some people really do have it a lot worse than I do. They really do.

I should probably go to sleep now. It's very late. I don't know why I wrote alot of this down for you to read. The reason I wrote this letter is because Istart high school tomorrow and I am really afraid of going.

Love always,
Charlie

September 7, 1991

Dear friend,

I do not like high school. The cafeteria is called the "Nutrition Center," whichis strange. There is this one girl in my advanced english class named Susan. Inmiddle school, Susan was very fun to be around. She liked movies, and herbrother Frank made her tapes of this great music that she shared with us. Butover the summer she had her braces taken off, and she got a little taller andprettier and grew breasts. Now, she acts a lot dumber in the hallways,especially when boys are around. And I think it's sad because Susan doesn't lookas happy. To tell you the truth, she doesn't like to admit she's in the advancedenglish class, and she doesn't like to say "hi" to me in the hall anymore.

When Susan was at the guidance counselor meeting about Michael, she said thatMichael once told her that she was the prettiest girl in the whole world, bracesand all. Then, he asked her to "go with him," which was a big deal at anyschool. They call it "going out" in high school. And they kissed and talkedabout movies, and she missed him terribly because he was her best friend.

It's funny, too, because boys and girls normally weren't best friends around myschool. But Michael and Susan were. Kind of like my Aunt Helen and me. I'msorry. "My Aunt Helen and I." That's one thing I learned this week. That andmore consistent punctuation.

I keep quiet most of the time, and only one kid named Sean really seemed tonotice me. He waited for me after gym class and said really immature things likehow he was going to give me a "swirlie," which is where someone sticks your headin the toilet and flushes to make your hair swirl around. He seemed prettyunhappy as well, and I told him so. Then, he got mad and started hitting me, andI just did the things my brother taught me to do. My brother is a very goodfighter.

"Go for the knees, throat, and eyes."

And I did. And I really hurt Sean. And then I started crying. And my sister hadto leave her senior honors class and drive me home. I got called to Mr. Small'soffice, but I didn't get suspended or anything because a kid told Mr. Small thetruth about the fight.

"Sean started it. It was self-defense."

And it was. I just don't understand why Sean wanted to hurt me. I didn't doanything to him. I am very small. That's true. But I guess Sean didn't know Icould fight. The truth is I could have hurt him a lot worse. And maybe I shouldhave. I thought I might have to if he came after the kid who told Mr. Small thetruth, but Sean never did go after him. So, everything was forgotten.

Some kids look at me strange in the hallways because I don't decorate my locker,and I'm the one who beat up Sean and couldn't stop crying after he did it. Iguess I'm pretty emotional.

It has been very lonely because my sister is busy being the oldest one in ourfamily. My brother is busy being a football player at Penn State. After thetraining camp, his coach said that he was second string and that when he startslearning the system, he will be first string.

My dad really hopes he will make it to the pros and play for the Steelers. Mymom is just glad he gets to go to college for free because my sister doesn'tplay football, and there wouldn't be enough money to send both of them. That'swhy she wants me to keep working hard, so I'll get an academic scholarship.

So, that's what I'm doing until I meet a friend here. I was hoping that the kidwho told the truth could become a friend of mine, but I think he was just beinga good guy by telling.

Love always,
Charlie

Copyright © 1999 Stephen Chbosky. All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0-671-02734-4