Chapter 7: Max

Growing up, not that I'm old enough to understand, I always thought my mum was being melodramatic….turns out that she actually wasn't. Women... or girls as my mom calls them, are they so bloody hard to understand And they have multiple emotions. drives me insane.

Dear Maisie,

It's my birthday next month, so please try to be nice to me. I guess I need to ask you if you are doing OK today. You must look like the guy in the zombie movie who's been bitten but is trying to keep it quiet but failing terribly.

And it's good that your teacher lied to you; you might want to report it and see if anyone notices your complaint because that's not on.

I guess I should tell you now that it's okay to have the charisma of a wet sock; it suits you perfectly.

Max - I am not even doing a PS today because you insulted my last one, which was pathetic.

I have always been a bit of a troublemaker, but I never thought I would end up in a love-hate friendship with a girl named Maisie. I mean, what kind of name is that anyway? The love-hate friendship is my way of saying that I love to hate her, and I love to read her insults more.

If I'm going to be going down memory lane, it all started when we were in 5th grade, and I was a bit of an *ss to her. She got her revenge, and it has never stopped since. Maisie and I were assigned to be partners for a normal assignment, and most of the people in my class stopped talking to their pen pal after the second or even third letter. Probably too boring for their liking. Texas brains are small, which is what I frequently point out to Maisie. Does she listen? Probably not. We couldn't stand each other, and if anyone read the letters I have kept, then they would probably want to evaluate her for something because it isn't normal. Not even my brothers or Mom and Dad know I write to her this much. I started doing a small job around the neighbourhood after school to earn myself some money so I could buy more paper, envelopes, and stamps.

Before we knew it, two years went by, and we were starting 9th grade. We were still exchanging letters. Our classmates had no idea about our secret correspondence, and we preferred to keep it that way. It was our little world, where we could be ourselves without any judgements. As the year went by, our hatred for each other only grew stronger. We were always competing against each other, whether it was who did better in sports or academics, how much our friends liked us, or even places we wanted to go. It was boring to some, but I enjoyed it. I always won that one. Our insults became more creative and elaborate. It seemed like our rivalry would never end.

But then, something unexpected happened. One day I received a letter in the mail with a home address for her, I guess. I opened it and was surprised to find that it was from Maisie. The letter wasn't filled with insults and jabs like normal, but I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of emotion. The letter wasn't about me being an *ss or how sh*t she hoped my day went; it stated that she enjoys our conversations and that it makes her day when she receives a letter from me. It was like a challenge, and I couldn't resist responding like always.

Dear max,

Today's a little different; I didn't know whether to write to you or not. It's my 13th birthday next Friday, and I have spent the last 2 years battling with the emotions of not really celebrating it. My parents are shockers and left me and my sister when I was only 10 years old. Well, I'm almost 11, and I just felt like today I wanted to write something that didn't make it about hating you.

I would love to meet you one day. I figured it would be time to meet when we get that bit older if you plan to stick around and keep talking, but my guess is that you won't. I wanted to believe you were a good person behind all of that big man ego sh*t. Sorry, I did promise myself I wouldn't insult your big head, but I can't help it. You like that one biscuit you dunk in your tea, and then it drops off into the tea... That's you, that is.

Anyway. I have to stop writing for a little bit because I am moving homes again. I have really enjoyed talking to you, and I do really hope you fall down a well and get stuck because it would make my day to see your *ss sticking out of the drain when it no one can get down there to save you.

Anyway. Your friend and enemy, Maisie

I found out that Maisie wasn't just a mean and competitive girl. She was also kind, funny, and smart. I started to see her in a different light. I pictured her as this blonde girl with long hair, an okay personality, and a figure any boy would go for. Including me if we ever met, and I couldn't deny that I was developing feelings for her even if I had never met her before. It just felt good because she wasn't trying to want me; in fact, she did the bloody opposite, but I loved it. But I was too scared to admit it, especially since our letters were still filled with insults and arguments, and her letter only proved how much she actually did mean to me because I couldn't find the words to tell her that her letter stinked and she couldn't move, let alone stop writing to me. My heart felt heavy, and all I could do was sit on the edge of my bed and basically become the one thing I didn't want to be. Mopey.

My time after that got spent trying to see where she moved too. I tried to search for her on Facebook, but nothing came up. I tried Google, and again, I came up empty. I didn't even know her second name. I just searched for Maisie from Houston, Texas. Lame, I know, but I couldn't settle for a letter, and before you even question it, yes, I did send her one back, but it got returned to me, so I did what I did with all of her other ones, and I set it inside the box that I had stashed away.

I have a girlfriend now, so I should be focusing on her, but I couldn't. Margot and Caden got together at the start of 7th grade and have been going strong ever since, so he spends a lot of his time around her house. We don't see each other as much, but we always talk, and he does ask me if I have heard from letter girl, which is what he calls her, because he forgets her name all the time, and I have to say no because if Lilly hears me talking about it, she will go nuts, and I really can't be bothered by that.