Dear You: Sincerely, Me

Ann reread the letter close to 20 times, so many time she could recite it line for line. She sat at the kitchen table, all 23 letters in front of her. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling the long blonde strands into a high pony tail that kept them out of her face as she reread the letters. 23 of them, each with a unique voice. Each with a specific style of writing. She opened the writing portfolio with a piece from each of her students. She had chosen the best piece from them and placed it here.

If she was right, she could save this student's life. If she wasn't... well.... she'd tried. She'd give her student the proper remembrance.

"Ann, come to bed." Derek said, walking into the brightly lit kitchen. She waved him off.

She'd start with the letter who she knew the author: Garrett Hernandez, the author of Dear World. That poor boy went through too much and it came out in his writing. She picked up his letter and coupled it with his short story.

Setting that aside she moved on. She picked up Dear Amor and paired it with Daniella Gonzalez's poem which was completely in Spanish (which also had a English translation).

Dear Alcoholic was paired with Klaira Stark's essay about alcoholism and it's negative effects on the families around alcoholism.

Dear Secret Obsession was grouped with Missy Lennox's poem about observing everything.

Hours of working, grouping and regrouping, trying to save this student's life and she had nothing to show for it. She moved Dear Big Brother around seven times before settling on Maria Hastings. She put the other Dear Big Brother with Elizabeth Manning. Dear Dad, Dear Father, Dear Gorgeous, Dear Mirror, Dear Friend... all found their matches: Art Kerr, Leo Marx, Sam Richars, Leah Cortland, Tawny Reynolds.

She moved Dear Mom from one writer to the next, finally settling on Macey Suttle. Dear Pianist found it's partner in Kristel Silvers. Dear Heartbreaker was written by Dawn Kissel. The other Dear Heartbreaker was matched with Nichole Anderson. Dear Forgetful was scribed by one Lady Harris.

"Ann, it's 3 in the morning." Derek yawned, wandering out from their bedroom. She glanced over her shoulder as she reread several of the letters, trying to pick out which one went where.

"I can't go to bed, Derek. I have to do this."

"Do WHAT?" he asked.

"Nothing, forget it." she said

"No, Ann, what? What're you doing that is so important? What could be so much more important than sleeping, and your daughter?"

"One of my students, Derek. He threatened to kill himself because his father uses him like a sex toy!" Ann snapped. She stopped. She rifled through her writing samples. She came across what she was looking for. Lucas Zade wrote a depressing short story at the beginning of the year about these two twins that were walking down the road to their house when a car came zooming towards them. The drunk driver didn't see either boy and hit them. But only one of the twins died. The other was left to mourn his brother's death as well as face his own hardships.

"Ann..." Derek said slowly. She put the two together and sighed. Lucas...

"I have to go. I love you." she kissed Derek's cheek and hurried out the door, wearing nothing but a pair of short shorts and a tank top. She drove herself to her office, where she pulled up her student files.

Lucas Zade: 17 years old, lives with his father and step-mother, average student at Middlesex High School. address: 13 Birdsall Street, Middlesex California

Rushing out of her office, she raced to her car. Driving 20 miles over the speedlimit, she finally made it to Middlesex. The streets were empty, deserted and as she drove, seemed to never end. She pulled up out front of Birdsall Street, numer 13 and ran as fast as she could bring herself to. She rang the doorbell.

There was someone yelling and the door was opened by a large broadshouldered man.

"Who're you?" he asked, his voice low and annoyed. He was covered in sweat and wore just a pair of boxers. Ann forced her eyes to his face and not anywhere else.

"My name's Ann Burton, I'm Lucas' creative writing teacher. I was wondering if I could speak with him."

"Lucas, huh? Come in. He's downstairs."

He walked down a flight of stairs, gesturing for Ann to follow. She took small steps and followed behind. He looked at her and nodded towards the bed where Lucas was passed out. He looked frail in the large bed, his wrists looked as if they'd been restrained for weeks on end, his ribs protruded from his pale white skin. He whimpered in his sleep.

The large man pushed Lucas onto his back and smacked the boy across his cheek. Lucas started and leaped back away from the man. Ann stared in horror as Lucas drew back with fear.

"Your teacher is here." the man growled and stalked upstairs.

"M-m-m-miss Burton! What're you doing here? It's 4 in the morning!" Lucas stuttered, pulling a shirt on. Ann drew his letter from her pocket and set it on the bed before him.

"Lucas... did you write this?" she asked, her voice soft and caring as she watched the teenager step closer to her. He pushed a lock of dark brown hair behind his ear. He picked up the letter and read it. He nodded slowly.

"So what if I did?" he asked.

"Is it true what you wrote? Is he doing this to you?" she asked.

"Yes." he looked scared.

"I can help." she answered.

"How?"

"Come with me. We'll tell the police. We'll find you a new home. You can stay with me until you're 18. I can't let you stay here, Lucas."

"I can't. He'll know something's up."

"I'll tell him that we're going on a field trip to the writer's musuem and I want you to go."

"Miss. Burton..." Lucas said quietly. She held out a hand to him. He took it and she smiled lightly.
"Please."

"Why do you care?"

"How could I not?"

His father thundered down the stairs.

"What're you planning?" he screamed. Ann pulled Lucas over his bed and behind her. The man towered over them, glaring daggers at Ann.

"Mr. Zade, I was wondering if your son could come on a feild trip to the writer's musuem with the class. We have to go now and I forgot to give him a permission form for you to sign. So would it be okay?" Ann asked.

"NO!" Mr. Zade bellowed. Ann flinched and felt Lucas shift behind her so he was farther back.

"Why not? Your son is a brilliant writer. I'd really like it if he were able to go." Ann said.

"I said, no!" he screamed. His fist swung at Ann and caught her in the jaw. She yelped and pushed him back. She was born and raised, strangley enough, in Brooklyn. She learned to fight back.

"Miss. Burton, don't!" Lucas yelped when his father pushed Ann onto the bed and pressed his weight down on top of her. She bat at him, trying to push his hands away. She slammed her fist as hard as she could into his stomach. He took a deep breath and slammed the heel of his hands sideways against her nose. Lucas grabbed his father's shoulders and somehow, he was stronger than he looked, pulled the man from on top of Ann.

Lucas slammed his fist into his father's face again and again.

"Lucas..." Ann grabbed his fist and locked her gaze with his.

"Please." she begged. He stood and she pulled him out of the house.

"Are you okay, Miss. Burton?" he asked.

"Please, call me Ann."

"Are you okay.... Ann?" he asked, wiping the blood from her nose with the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Yeah, I've been hit worse." she answered, turning her car on.

"I know how that is." Lucas said, sitting quietly.

"You don't have to worry about him anymore, Lucas." Ann reminded.

"Thank you, Ann.... it's really sweet of you to do this."

"It's nothing. Really. I'm glad you're okay."

Ann and Lucas rode the rest of the way to her house in silence. It was quiet, but neither minded.

"You can sleep in the guest room for now, Lucas." Ann smiled, opening the door. He thanked her and stepped inside.

"You're safe now." she said softly, shutting the door and stepped inside her own bedroom. She'd saved Lucas Zade.