From Lacey, with love

Sometimes the best love is so far away.


1. The First Letter


She was always told she was beautiful. Blue eyes, blonde hair. "Model worthy!" So many people exclaimed, clapping her shoulder and laughing as her pale skin turned light red. She would always nod and very quickly reply "Thank you" before running off. But when he told her she was beautiful, she believed him. His words covered her in a soft blanket of comfort and safety, something you usually could not get in the heart of the city.

This letter takes us to the middle of a quiet cafe in Portland, Maine, where Lacey sits in the best chair in there, holding on to her cup like it be taken from her if she doesn't. 



Charity has left me waiting, again. She hasn't called once, nor has she texted. It's been two hours that I've been sitting here, and I'm getting sympathy glances from the baristas. They probably think I'm being stood up by a boy. Charity is exactly the opposite of a boy. Her long brown hair will probably never get anything more than a trim, and her pencil skinny body is always clothed in gorgeous fashions. She always lets the boys know when they're wanted, or the girls to know when they aren't. She's little miss popular. Meanwhile, I'm little miss wannabe, according to the school gossip website. For such a big school, they sure know how to zone in on everyone. It was probably Hayden, who has had it out for me since first grade when I stole her pink barbie pencils. She never knew it was me until two years ago, but she's still mad about it. I mean, really? We are thirteen days away from graduation, and you're mad at me for pink barbie pencils?

Anyway. How is Florida? Are you having fun there with Zoie? Is she scared of the alligators? I'm pretty sure there are alligators in Florida...

Charity is finally here. She's covered in snow and raindrops, but somehow her makeup isn't dripping. I wonder how? You probably don't care. Boys usually don't care about how good makeup lasts in the rain.

I miss you. Come back as quick as possible.

                                                                                                                              From Lacey, with love.



I smiled softly as I opened Lacey's letter. She was so far away from me, yet I could almost hear her voice telling me exactly what the letter said. It was from two days ago, and I wondered what had happened with her meeting with Charity. They were best friends, yet they constantly got into fights about anything. Give them a topic and they could have a 2 hour argument about something they might not have known about before. The letter was not one of her longest ones, but it was written on the back of a band concert in the cafe she was in. It was one of our favorites, and we were supposed to go until I had to go to Florida. 

"Parker! Out here, now!" My sister screeched, yelling from the kitchen of the house we were renting. She was 12, but she acted like the boss of me when our parents weren't around.

"What, Zoie?" I inquire, placing the letter onto the dresser before heading out into the main part of the house. Even though we were only there for a week, the house was already a mess. No telling what would happen when our parents came back from the wedding drunk.

"Feed me." She growled, sitting on the kitchen table. She was very small for her age, looking 7 instead of 12. She obviously was very bossy and demanding, but sometimes she could be one of the best little sisters anyone could ask for. 

"What do you want?" I ask, pulling out boxes of cereal and bread from the cabinets. "We have plenty of food." I leant against the counter and looked at her.

"Whatever. I'll make it myself." She grumbled, climbing off the table and pushing past me to get to the spoons.

"Okay, have fun." I rolled my eyes and walked back to my room, laying down on my bed with Lacey's letter still in my hand. Her writing is loopy and light, and I smile as I re-read it again. She always ends her letters, 'From Lacey, with love,' and they are always on the back of something. Napkins, Band flyers, anything.


Hours later, I hear my parents come back to the rental house drunk as fuck. My mother has this high pitched giggle she always does when she's drunk and finds something funny, and I heard it all night. I gave up trying to sleep and decided to write a letter to Lacey instead.

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