Dear Spencer*,

I know you probably hate me right now. I also know you won’t take this seriously. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve torn up this paper and burned it already. Just let it be known that I tried.

I’m not really sure where to start, but I guess I can start with Thursday. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Honestly I didn’t. I’d just held it in for so long that I burst when it went too far. Spencer, your dad told me once that most everything you do is to get attention. Like when you kept tapping your fingers on the table, or taking the highlighter. I guess I just don’t understand that. I mean, you’ve got all of Lily’s* attention. All the attention anyone could ever want, but you act like it’s not enough. And when you mess around flirting with other girls…it’s not funny, it breaks heart.

When you mimic people, yeah at first it’s funny, but then you just keep going and going. It gets really old really fast, and sometimes you just push it too far.

When a girl says “Gosh my hair looks awful,” or “I’m way too fat,” you don’t say “Oh yeah it does,” or “Oh yeah you are I just didn’t want to say anything.” It tears people down, believe me I know. Talking with a girl about something and then going, “What are you talking about?” when they ask a question you don’t want to answer…it’s not funny or cute.

Spencer, we were doing so good. I thought that just maybe, we might actually be friends. The thing is, you act like your friends. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but your friends aren’t very nice people most of the time. They curse and swear, tell crude jokes, make inappropriate comments, and their moral compasses aren’t exactly pointing North. Please…please don’t sink to their level.

Spencer, I know this is probably going to fall on deaf ears, but I was not spreading rumors about you. I only mentioned the duck thing briefly to Suzie* and I swear it was an accident. When I realized what I said, I made her swear not to tell. I don’t know how your friends found out. Honest. My mom ran into your dad at the store and he told her what happened. I felt horrible. I didn’t know how everyone knew. And I couldn’t explain my side of the story to you because we had gotten in a fight the day before and weren’t talking. I sat on my bed and cried. I didn’t know what to do or where to turn.

I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends in the same way. As a matter of fact, you probably don’t want to talk to me ever again. I’m not perfect either. I have things I have to work on too, and sometimes I trip and fall flat on my face. But now I want to get up, and I need your help.

Waiting,


Brooklyn*
*not actual names