P.S. Longer Letter Later Read online

  For Kathy Ames,

  who knows how to introduce friends.

  — P.D. & A.M.M.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Elizabeth

  Tara

  Elizabeth

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  Tara

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  A Note From Barb

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  Tara

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  Elizabeth

  Tara

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  September 4

  Dear Tara-Starr,

  It’s 4:02 P.M. and I’m sitting in my room at the end of the first day of seventh grade, and I can’t help what I’m going to say next.

  I AM SO MAD AT YOU. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MOVE AWAY??? I THOUGHT WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BEST FRIENDS 4-EVER. IF I DIDN’T LIKE YOU SO MUCH I WOULD HAVE MADE YOU MY EX-BEST FRIEND 4-EVER BY NOW.

  Okay. There. I just had to say that. I’m not really mad. You’re still my best friend. I hate that you moved away, but I know it wasn’t your fault.

  So … you want to know the highlights of the day? I get off the bus, I walk into Reston Middle School, and right away I notice that

  1. Mr. Chimanto (however you spell his name) grew a mustache and it looks nice.

  2. Mme. Simon got her hair all cut off and she looks like a boiled owl.

  3. Joelie* may have gotten a nose job. No one can tell. (Here I sense that you would make some sort of nose/knows pun, but I’m not good at puns like you are so you can fill in your own.) __________________________________________________________

  ___________________________________________________________

  * Joelie Hammond, in case you don’t remember.

  Another highlight involves Karen Frank, Barf Queen of the Water Fountain. Remember how she has barfed in the water fountain on the first day of school every year? Well, she didn’t let us down today. In fact, she let it all up. Again. And to make things even more interesting, she barfed right in front of about 15 girls who were all discussing Joelie’s nose, and she almost started a chain reaction.

  You know what I don’t understand? How can the Wheel of Fortune home game have 400 puzzles but over 11 million categories? This does not make sense, but it’s what I heard the announcer say when I was channel surfing last night. (Emma and I are still not allowed to be Wheel Watchers. This won’t change as long as Dad only lets us watch educational shows. The only place I ever got to see WOF was at your house. Now what am I supposed to do?)

  Well, that’s it for now. Write and tell me about your first day of school. I know you don’t start until tomorrow. I guess that’s one of the benefits of moving to Ohio. As far as I can tell, though, it’s the only benefit.

  Love,

  P.S. Emma started at Miss Fine’s Preschool today and she hated it. She says she already learned everything on Sesame Street, plus, she doesn’t like crackers.

  September 7

  Dear Elizabeth,

  GIVE ME A BREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  YOU KNOW THAT I DIDN’T WANT TO MOVE … THAT I WAS KIDNAPPED BY THE CHARENTS (my CHildlike pARENTS)…. Oh, okay … I know that it’s not kidnapping if your parents want to move and their kid has to go with them…. I know I should be used to it by this time…. Fourth, fifth, sixth grades…. It was a record for staying in one place.

  Anyway, it was soooooooooooooo weird not starting school with you.

  The night before school began here, I was soooooooo homesick…. Not just for my old home … but for yours too. I kept thinking about how the nights before fifth and sixth grade we would go to each other’s houses and figure out what each of us would wear for the first day of school. I was soooooo sad. I took out my copy of the scrapbooks we made before I left and looked at the pictures Barb took of us on our first days of school….

  Fourth grade — you wearing that plaid skirt and the white blouse, loafers, and your mom’s pearl earrings. I had on my black leggings with a hole in one knee, my long black T-shirt with SAVE THE WHALES on it, my black high-tops with the pink fluorescent laces, and my mom’s black-and-pink beaded barrette.

  Fifth grade — your new look!!!! Plaid skirt, white blouse, loafers, and your mom’s gold-and-pearl earrings. My new look!!!! The same leggings, more black high-tops with the same fluorescent laces, a black T-shirt that says SAVE THE HUMANS, and my mom’s clip-on nose ring.

  Sixth grade — you wore that “cute” flowered sundress, preppy sandals, and your mom’s pearl nose ring (just kidding). I wore new black leggings (holeless), black sandals, a black T-shirt that said

  IF YOU CAN READ THIS,

  YOU’RE TOO CLOSE

  and my dad’s hoop earring.

  Thanks for filling me in on the gossip. As for the pun about Joelie’s possible face surgery, how about “Nobody nose for sure if she had it done…. It’s snot something she’s talking about.” Okay … it’s not one of my best puns, but since I’ve moved, I haven’t had anyone to tell them to.

  I need more first-day details…. So what did you wear? I want to know. I wore my black leggings, my long black T-shirt (sloganless), my red Doc Martens, and around my head I wore one of Barb’s glitter scarves. (You know … the one she had on at “Back to School Night,” when all of the teachers thought she was my older sister … not my mother.)

  Anyway … my first day of school went okay … as well as it could with me being the new kid in the school, not knowing anyone, not knowing my way around.

  A few of the kids made fun of the way I was dressed. One of the boys, Alex, asked me if I was a fortune-teller. I told him that I could see a major disaster in his future if he continued teasing me.

  School lunch was not only disgusting, but I had no one to sit with.

  My classes are okay … except for the fact that there don’t seem to be any writing classes. How am I going to become a great American writer (with our novels next to each other on bookshelves) if there’s no time for creative writing?

  By the way, I’ve made a slight change in my name. At first, I thought about starting out anew with a name like Mary or Sarah or Jane. Then I would change my look and my goals … but that didn’t seem right, so instead of Tara-Starr Lane … my new name is Tara*Starr Lane…. Isn’t that much more exciting looking?

  I have to go now. Barb and Luke are going to be home from work in about a half an hour and I’ve got to set the table. (What wonderful meal has Jeannemarie prepared for your family tonight? Her herbed chicken? Her caramelized carrots? Her chocolate parfait?
Our dinner will be hamburgers, french fries, and beverages supplied by McDonald’s and delivered by Luke, and cake prepared by Sara Lee.)

  Love,

  P.S. I’m so proud of Emma for hating Miss Fine’s Preschool. I’ll never understand why your parents have to send their kids to a private preschool whose motto is THE PLACE FOR A FINE EDUCATION.

  I’ve really got to go now. The Charents will be home any minute.

  September 11

  5:36 P.M.

  Dear Tara*Starr,

  Ha-ha. Very funny. You know perfectly well that Miss Fine’s does not have a pun for a motto. They don’t have enough imagination for that. Their motto is … well, actually, they don’t have one.

  Hmm. I just reread your letter for, like, the tenth time. I keep reading it over and over because it’s SORT OF like having you here with me. I keep looking at my copy of our scrapbooks too. Remember the day we made them? Mom couldn’t believe we were making such a mess right after Martha had cleaned up. (If I just keep that footstool three inches off center, it covers the toeprint you accidentally made that day. Don’t you think there’s something funny about a footstool covering a toeprint?)

  I miss you so much! And it’s all the Charents’ fault. Charents. I like that word. It’s ugly, which is a good thing, since I’m mad at the Charents. Later, if I get over being mad at them, maybe I’ll decide it’s a nice word. Anyway, I keep reading the letter, but what I really want is to talk to you and I can’t believe we can’t even call each other. You at least have a good excuse, since the Charents say it’s too expensive. I can understand that. But my dad is just being strict as usual. “No phoning Tara.” (How come he’ll never call you Tara*Starr?)

  Oh, well. Now I’ve read your letter for the 11th time and I’m going to answer all your questions in the order you asked them.

  1. On the first day of school, I wore jeans, loafers, and a white blouse. Plus, Mom helped me French-braid my hair and lent me her gold hoop earrings.

  2. I don’t know how you’re going to become a great American writer if there’s no time for creative writing — except you can make your own time for it. Why don’t you try keeping a notebook (and not losing it)? This year I have Mr. Dougherty for creative writing, so things are off to a good start. (I do wish you had a writing class, though. I’d be disappointed too if I didn’t have one.)

  3. Yes, Tara*Starr is much more exciting than Tara-Starr. I love it. What can you do for Elizabeth? Maybe I need a change too.

  4. For dinner after the first day of school Jeannemarie made pork chops, string beans, and a salad. And she made crème brûlée for dessert. Dad missed dinner entirely because of some emergency meeting at Data-Pro. Sometimes being a vice president isn’t worth it. I don’t know about Dad, but I’d take pork chops over a meeting any day.

  Emma just came into the room. Now she’s standing at my elbow, asking me what I’m doing. I tell her I’m writing you a letter and she says she misses you. She does, too. She thinks you’re funny. I’m going to try to be funnier for her.

  Love,

  P.S. I’m really proud of you for being the new kid at school and being so brave about it and telling that kid you saw a disaster in his future. I would never be able to be so brave. Have you made any friends yet?

  P.P.S. I don’t think Emma hates Miss Fine’s so much anymore. They have Day-Glo Play-Doh.

  Sept. 16

  Dear Tara*Starr,

  Guess what. Grandpa called and said come down to Vero Beach for the weekend. (Nana was going to be away for the weekend and he didn’t want to be alone.) So we all went to Florida for three days, but it wasn’t really a vacation. Emma caught a fish. But she was very sad that she did not get to see Mickey Mouse.

  Love,

  P.S. How come you never answered my last letter? Are you made at me?

  September 21

  Dear Elizabeth

  No … I AM NOT ANGRY AT YOU…. At least I wasn’t until I got the postcard telling me that you jetted off to Florida…. What a rough life!!!!!!

  Well, maybe I am just a little angry…. Well, maybe I am a lot angry … but don’t take it personally. I think I’m just angry at everything in the world at the moment.

  I’m sorry that I haven’t written for two weeks. I was going to send you a dumb cute note saying that I hadn’t written because I lost my pen … but that’s not true…. I think I haven’t written because I’ve lost my sanity … and my sense of humor … and my temper.

  It’s all just so hard sometimes…. My parents are acting weird. (Actually, they are acting normal … which is so weird!) Both of them have jobs that they like…. And my mother is going to a parenting class … a parenting class … do you believe it? I’m twelve years old, she’s twenty-nine, and NOW she’s going to a parenting class…. Maybe she should have gone when I was born … but NOW??????? She just says that she wants to be the best mother to me that she can be … that she wants to make up for all the years that she wasn’t as grown up as she should have been. And my dad is making “dad noises,” like, “Now that we are saving to buy a house, we all have to economize.” Can you believe that this is coming from my Charents? … I’m so used to being the one who is responsible that this is really weird … and a real pain. Do you believe … they are actually giving me a curfew … and what’s even more disgusting than the curfew is that I have no place to go, no place to come back late from. (Wow … that sentence is definitely a run-on, fragmenty, ended-with-a-preposition sentence…. I know all of this now because Ms. Fishburn, my language arts teacher, … yes, that’s her name, but secretly I think of her as Ms. Tunamelt … loves grammar and sentence structure.) Oh, well, back to the Charent Report.

  First, they make me move to a new place (which isn’t so unusual for them) and then they start acting so different.

  I can tell you … I DON’T LIKE IT!!!!!

  And … you know what else I don’t like … I don’t like my new school. Everyone’s so stuck-up and mean … and they make fun of the way I dress … and Ms. Tunamelt doesn’t like my writing…. She says, “It’s too creative. It’s not academic enough.” And she looks gross too…. She wears the same outfit every day in different colors … a skirt, a blouse, and a jacket. Monday, she wears her pale blue combo … Tuesday is puke green … Wednesday is you-know-what brown … Thursday is warning-light yellow … and Friday is pot-holder plaid.

  I kept waiting to write back until I was happy, but if I did that you probably wouldn’t hear from me until graduation day.

  Okay … enough…. To change the subject.

  I can’t believe that you and your family just jetted off to Florida. I am so jealous. Did Emma wear the sunglasses that I gave her, the ones your parents hate … the ones with palm trees and glitter on them? The ones your father says are so tacky?

  Now … to talk about the stuff in your letter …

  1. I keep looking at the scrapbooks too. You know what really makes me laugh? Remember the summer I went on vacation with your family, and then you went on vacation with my family? I love the picture of you and my family at the county fair — we look great with cotton candy all over our faces. Even the lime-green poodle we won has cotton candy on his face. Then there’s the picture of me with your family at the art museum in the city. It was sooooo nice to be included in one of your many family trips, even though I know your father really hates me.

  2. About the creative writing … At the moment, the only creative writing is my letters to you … but maybe that’s more nonfiction. I think I have writer’s block.

  3. Possible Elizabeth name change … Liz, Lizzy, Lizzylu, Beth, Bethie, Betherino, Elizarino, Eliza, Liza, Zabeth (I really like that one), El, Clyde, Waldo, Richie (for Richardson, not for the amount of money you have). Tell Emma I love her and miss her sooooooooooooo much.

  Bye.

  P.S. (As in Positively Sorry) Oh, Elizabeth … I just reread this letter … and I apologize for being so mean at the beginning of it. I guess I’m just upset … and yes, angry …
at everything … and I’m taking it out on you.

  Now you know why I haven’t written for so long.

  September 25

  4:35 P.M.

  Dear Tara-Starr,

  Okay, so I was right. You are mad at me. And you’re right too. You were very mean in your so-called letter. Where do you get off taking it out on me? I know what that makes me, because we just learned about it in social studies. It makes me the scapegoat, which is not an attractive thing — for me (the scapegoat) or for you (the scapegoat-maker). If you’re feeling so very friendless right now, then I suggest treating me a little differently. That is, if you think I’m still your friend.

  I’m tempted to end this letter right here and mail just these two paragraphs to you, but I know that’s too rude. Instead, I’m going to go back through your letter from the beginning. I have a few things to ask you about anyway. And a few more things to say.

  For starters, I wouldn’t exactly call flying to Orlando on a Friday morning with 4,000 people who are all going to Disney World “jetting off to Florida.” You make it sound like we went on a private jet. (Well … we did fly first class, but you know my dad. And it’s no fun being in first class. We’re almost always the only kids, and everyone acts like they wish we weren’t there.) And then we had to get in a stuffy rental car and drive to Vero Beach, whizzing right past all the signs for Disney World, which are the only 2 words Emma knows how to read.

  Plus, we got tricked into going down there in the first place, which you would know if you read my postcard carefully.

  So your parents are acting normal. Can’t you be a little grateful? Two happy parents, saving for their own house. Maybe it means you won’t have to move again. Sometimes you don’t know how lucky you are. Barb wants to work and she gets to work. My mom wants to work and my dad says he makes enough money so she doesn’t need a job. She’s to stay home and manage the house and the people who work in it. I know my dad only wants what he thinks is best for our family, but doesn’t he see how bored Mom is? At your house, nobody’s ever bored.