Tracing Hearts (4 page)

I nod in agreement.

“How about something from New York? That’s where he used to live,” I suggest.

“I think that’s a great idea. How about if the next time you write to him, we include a postcard of his home town? That might cheer him up.”

I smile and clap excitedly. I think that idea is perfect.

“Thanks, Mom. You always know what to do,” I say, and I throw my arms around her.

“Not always, but if I can help, I will.”

The very next day, Mom finds a postcard from New York. She had to dig around online to get it, but it should be here in a couple days. I can’t wait to send him a little piece of home!

Sebastian

My dad gets off duty and walks into our kitchen. He wraps his arms around my mom and kisses her from behind. She smiles and turns in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. They kiss again and smile at each other. They whisper things I can’t hear, though I’m sure I’m not supposed to anyway. I like watching them. They look…happy. It makes me glad to know they get along, unlike Peter’s parents, who fight all the time. I feel a little sorry for him sometimes. They separate, reluctantly I think, and Mom goes back to doing the dishes.

“Hey, son,” Dad says as he ruffles my hair. “How was school today?”

“It was fine.”

He walks toward the table and sits, laying the mail down and begins to sort through it.

“What have you and Peter been up to lately?” I just shrug. “Sergeant Crosby says he saw you two sneaking out of the barracks about a week ago. He says he’s missing some stuff. You two wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He looks at me over his reading glasses as if he’s expecting a confession.

“No, sir,” I shake my head. “Peter and I wouldn’t go into the barracks.” I swallow, knowing we have, in fact, been over there repeatedly.

“Well, let’s just say that if I find out you were, there’ll be consequences.” His no nonsense expression causes a bead of sweat to form on my brow, and makes me want to be anywhere but standing in front of him. I nod and turn to walk to my room. “Oh, Sebastian?” I turn to face him.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ve got mail, son. It looks like it’s from America.” My eyes light up, but he looks puzzled. Mom must not have told him about Julia. I walk over and take the envelope from his outstretched hand, but he doesn’t release it. “What’s this about?” He frowns slightly.

“It’s my pen pal,” I say softly then roll my eyes. “School is making us write letters to America.” I try, and succeed, to look annoyed by this chore, when all I really want to do is take it to my room and rip it open.

“Huh,” is all he says, then he lets go of it, allowing me to take it. He dismisses me and as soon as I’m out of his sight, I run to my room, locking the door behind me. I throw myself onto my perfectly made bed and tear into the letter. As I do, a postcard falls out. I turn it over to see a collage of pictures from New York City. I grin widely.
Home
. In the picture on the left, the Statue of Liberty proudly holds up her torch. The one next to that is the Manhattan skyline. There’s also one of Central Park. I miss that place the most. Across the top it says,
Greetings from New York!
I sigh. After a beat, I put the postcard aside and unfold the letter.

Dear Sebastian,

It’s a girl! Her name is Victoria, but in taking your advice, I call her Toria. I liked all your nicknames. They were funny. I only wish I could get away with calling her Whinybutt. She’s cute, but she cries a lot, and my mom is always tired.

I guess you’ve already noticed the postcard I sent in this envelope. Your last letter sounded so sad, so I wanted to cheer you up, if I could. I hope it worked. I’m sorry you can’t be back in your hometown. If I could fix that for you, I would. Maybe your dad’s tour will be over soon, and you can come home. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to make you smile.

Her words make me feel better, and I smile because of them. How could she possibly know what this one simple gesture, sending me this postcard, would do for me? Did my last letter really sound that sad? I guess it could have. I look down and continue reading.

Thank you for giving me your address. I was going to do the same thing. I hate waiting an eternity to get a letter back from you, and Mrs. Kearney has stopped making us write letters as a class anyway. The amount of kids getting a letter has dwindled to the point that only a few of us are still receiving them. It’s just going to be easier now. By the way, your address is weird. It’s not like American addresses. I hope I wrote it right. If I didn’t, then you’re not reading this. (Ha ha)

So, tell me. What do you look like? What color is your hair? Your eyes? Are you skinny or fat? It’s okay with me either way. I’m just trying to picture you as I write my letters, and it would help a lot if I had some sort of idea. Do you want to know what I look like? Well, I’m not going to say until you tell me. I’ve already told you my middle name without getting yours in return. The ball is in your court.

I’ve gotta go. Mom wants me to start my homework. I’ll talk to you soon, since we have each other’s addresses now. Bye!

Your friend,

Julia Rose Bessette

PS. Your middle name?

I roll onto my back and oddly hug her letter to my chest. I close my eyes and imagine her face. I bet she’s pretty. It’s strange how good I feel at each new letter I receive from her. She wants to know what I look like. Ugh. I don’t think I want her to know. It’s not that I’m ugly or anything. It’s just that…what if her mental image of me is better than I actually look? Will she be disappointed? Will she want to stop writing to me? Her letters have become the one thing I look forward to, and I don’t want them to stop. I almost feel like I’m back home when I read them. I’m not sure why. It’s not like she lives in the same state. I sigh heavily, knowing what I must do. I get up off my bed and head to my desk drawer. Pulling out a large white envelope, I open it, and retrieve a wallet sized, school picture from inside. I stare at the bad school picture, hoping it’ll do. In the picture, I’m in a white, button down shirt. The black tie my mother made me wear is fashioned around my neck. My light brown hair is a little too long, and it covers my forehead. It hides the scar I got, when I split my head open, falling off a chair, when I was little. I chuckle when I think that I told Peter I got that scar in some sort of fight. He believed me. I turn it over and think of something to say on the back. I scribble something down and place it inside a smaller envelope. Then, I begin my return letter.

Within a half an hour, I’m done. Satisfied, but a little nervous about the picture, I seal it up inside an envelope and head toward the kitchen.

“Mom? Do we have any outgoing mail?”

“Yes. It’s the stack over there, on the counter,” she says. “Is that letter for Julia?” I nod. “You wrote her back already?” I nod again, a little embarrassed. “Wow. That was quick. If she can make you want to do extra homework, I think she’s a keeper,” she teases. I roll my eyes, trying to feign annoyance.

“Mom,” I whine. “It’s not homework. It’s just a stupid letter. Don’t make a big deal out of it,” I say, but I know it’s more than just a letter.
Much
more.

Mom smiles knowingly, and it’s like she can see right through me. It makes me feel weird, so I grab the small stack of envelopes and put my shoes on.

“I’ll take this to the mail room for you, Mom.”

She smiles again. “That would be lovely, dear. Thank you. It’ll be closing soon, so you better hurry.”

I nod and take off out the door in the direction of the post’s mail room. When I get there, they’re just about to close up. I dash for the front door.

“Hold on, wait!” I shout. The man at the door stops what he’s doing and looks at me. “I have one more stack of outgoing mail for today,” I pant and hold it out for him to take.

“Well you almost missed me. I was just locking up.” He looks at the mail, then at me. “Something important going out in this stack?”

I nod. “Yes, sir. A letter home.” I smile shyly, still trying to catch my breath.

“Well, then I’m glad you caught me before I left. I’ll make sure this goes out today.” I smile and exhale.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

He gives me a small, casual salute, and I nod in response.

“Anytime, son.”

I turn and head for home again but this time, I walk casually, kicking stones along the way. I’m nervous about the picture I sent. I hope she likes it.

Julia

More than a week has passed, since I sent my last letter to Sebastian. I hope he likes the postcard. Something about him makes me want to know more. I want to know what he likes, what he dislikes, what he and his friends do for fun, what his family is like. I’ve developed this strange friendship with a perfect stranger, who lives a world away from me, yet feels closer than anyone else. I’ve given him my address, so this’ll be the first time I might get a letter at my house. I’ve been watching the mail, when it comes in every day, since I last wrote to him. I hate that it takes so long to hear back. I wish my mom and dad would let me get email.

***

My day is moving so slowly. Cameron just got a detention for throwing a spitball at the board. Why do boys always do stuff like that? I sigh, exasperated, and he looks over. His awkward smile makes me giggle. I roll my eyes and look away. When I look back at him, he’s grinning wider. What’s gotten into him? Mrs. Kearney announces it’s time for recess, so we file our books inside our desks and line up at the door. Megan pushes her way up to me.

“Hi, Julia. Did you see Cameron?” she asks.

“Yes, of course. He’s gotten himself a detention again.”

“Not that. Did you see him smiling at you? What’s that all about?”

I shrug. “Don’t know, don’t care,” I say.

“Don't you find it odd?”

“I find everything he does, odd.”

We giggle and walk, following the line to the gym.

***

“Mom?” I call, searching for her.

“Yes?” she answers from the living room couch. I close the distance between us and find her lying down.

“Mom? Has the mail come today?” My voice hints at disappointment.

“I haven’t checked yet today. I’m tired. You can look, if you’d like,” she says, her eyelids heavy.

“Okay,” I say happily, as I skip to the front door. I peek outside at the mailbox by the road. Putting my shoes on, I hop out to the box and slowly open it. I close my eyes briefly, hoping to see paper poking out. I see nothing but darkness, but just in case, I reach my hand inside. Still nothing. My shoulders slump. I walk, dragging my feet on the concrete driveway, back to the house. When I close the door, I hear my mom call me.

“Anything?” I shake my head. “Well, maybe, it hasn’t come yet. Wait a while, and check again.” I nod and head up to my room.

I lie across my bed. The radio is on, and I’m staring at the ceiling. The phone rings, and soon Mom is calling for me. It must be Megan.

“Hello?”

“Oh, my gosh! Wait until you hear this!” she shouts into the phone.

“Hi, Megan. Yes, hello to you too,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, hi. Listen. I overheard Kelsey and Ashley on the bus today. You’ll never guess what they were talking about.” My silence lets her know to continue. “Kelsey is really mad at you.”

I sit up. “For what?”

“Well, it turns out someone she likes, likes
you
.”

I wrack my brain trying to think of anyone who might have a crush on me. Nope, I got nothing.

“Who—”

“Cameron!” she squeaks.

“Eeew.”

She giggles. “I know! Isn’t that funny? He was just smiling at you too.”

Egh.

“Yeah…She can have him.”

“The problem is, Kelsey’s really mad. I don’t know if she’s planning anything, but you might want to keep a look out for her.”

I roll my eyes. Great. Like I need this.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know,” I say, uninterested.

“Aren’t you the least bit excited? A boy likes you. I wish a boy liked me.”

“But it’s Cameron. He’s not nice and he’s always getting into trouble. If there’s one boy I’d wish to like me it would be—” I stop in mid-sentence. Whose name am I about to say?

“If you’re about to say Sebastian, then don’t. You’ll probably never, ever get to meet him and who knows, he could be a jerk too.”

I sigh. “I was going to say Logan, but thanks,” I lie.

There’s a strange silence between us, until I break it.

“I’ve got to go. Thanks for the warning about Kelsey.”

“Okay,” she says quietly.

We hang up. My mood plummets.

***

The next day, at school, my contemplative mood hasn’t changed. I wish I would’ve gotten a letter from Sebastian yesterday. We line up for outdoor recess and while waiting, Kelsey glances back at me and smirks. What on earth is that all about?

As I step out onto the asphalt parking lot, I feel a pleasant breeze on my face. I smile as I inhale the outside air. The weather is nice. The warm sun shines down and lifts my mood slightly. A group of kids are assembling to play a game of dodgeball, while others are jumping rope, or playing that string game with their hands. Megan and I sit on the ground, drawing pictures with nearby pebbles. We’re talking about a bunch of nothing, when Kelsey walks up to us.

“Hi, Julia, Megan. We could use a couple extra people for dodgeball. You in?” she says.

We look at each other. No one ever asks us to play dodgeball with them. I’m skeptical.

“I don’t think so,” I say.

Kelsey smiles sweetly.

What the heck?

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun, with you?” Megan scoffs at her. “That’s an oxymoron!”