When the girls walked out of the gym, some of the boys watched them go and one whistled and said something rude about their shorts, and the teacher told him AND ME that if we kept it up, we’d be suspended. In my whole life I never whistled at someone or said anything rude about what a girl or anyone else was wearing! I would never do that. Okay, maybe I have whistled at one of those ice cream sandwiches made with homemade cookies. I love those things. But I would never do it to a person. It was awful. The whistling and being blamed.

“Nice job, jerks,” said this guy who all the girls like and who hangs around with girls all the time.

“I never—” I said, but he was already running past me.

The guy who said the rude thing ran next to me. His name is Keven and he does stare at the girls. All the time. It even makes me uncomfortable.

“Everybody’s too sensitive. Especially girls,” he said. “Nothing wrong with looking.”

I didn’t nod because I didn’t agree. No one likes to get stared at, plus I was having trouble breathing because I was having an anxiety attack from how bad the day was, and I don’t think girls are too sensitive. I think I might be too sensitive. I definitely wouldn’t want Keven staring at me.

When I didn’t answer, he said, “Whatever,” and ran off, because he’s way faster than me.

So I ran alone, feeling like I was going to die for almost the whole time.

I extra hate school now.

Take care,

Rodney

20

Hey, Larry,

It’s decided for sure now. I’m never going to send this to you. For one thing, it’s really long, so you might not have time to read it, even though you read more than almost anyone I know. For another, your mom might not want you to hang around me now that I have a truancy officer. But I still like writing you, so I’m going to keep doing it, if you don’t mind. Which you won’t, because you don’t know. Ha.

Anyway, we were in Vegas again on Saturday. Same deal as before. We got up super early. Even though Kate wasn’t there, I got in the back seat and slept until we hit the city. When I looked at my mom in the driver’s seat, she had her headphones on. She was probably listening to one of her inspirational talks. My dad used to make fun of how she likes stuff like that. I was glad she never let it stop her.

She seemed so content, driving along, that I didn’t want to bother her. I just stayed still and thought my thoughts.

When we pulled into the treatment center, I sat up in my seat, pretending that I was just waking up.