April 1st, 1996

Dear Norah,

Seeing as how I asked you to write, and it’s been three weeks, and you haven’t yet… I figured I’d start.

I’m not really sure where we are today, but nobody speaks English, and everything smells like hot dogs. Which basically means, everything smells like Trace. The buildings look pretty cool though. I thought about taking some pictures and sending them, but that’s really too much effort when I’m just writing to you.

The other guys in the group are all pretty awesome. Can’t really see you getting along with them though since ya know… they’re cool, and you’re… well… not.

Being here is kind of weird. I mean, we’re busy most of the time, which is good. But, when we’re done recording, we mostly just sit around and play video games. Momma seems to be having fun though. She goes shopping with Lance’s mom a lot. They found some weird bookstore the other day, Momma said it reminded her of you. So, that means it was probably really small and boring.

So anyway, we’re supposed to film a music video next week. That should be pretty cool. I gotta go back to work now, so… write me back.

-J

**********************************************

April 10th, 1996

Dear Norah,

Thanks for writing me back. (Note the sarcasm.)

I guess I can kind of understand why you wouldn’t. I haven’t always been very nice to you. Really… I’m not even sure why I’m doing this. Momma told me it’d be a good idea to keep in touch with people from home. Something about keeping me grounded or whatever.

I don’t think I need to be grounded though, ya know? We don’t know what’s gonna happen with the group, so why do I need to worry about getting an ego now?

My momma’s kinda crazy. But you know that already. Remember the time she busted my ass in front of the whole street for putting gum in your hair? I’m sure you really enjoyed that.

In case you’re wondering… the music video shoot a went really well. We should get to see the actual video pretty soon. I’m not really sure when the album will be finished though. Hopefully soon, cause sitting around in studios all the time is starting to get really, really boring.

Believe it or not, I kinda miss Shelby Forrest, and Trace, and my dog, and my bed… and yeah, I miss your goofy ass too. Well… I’m not sure if I miss you, or if I miss having somebody to harass.

Ya know… I’d really appreciate it if you wrote back. Atleast let me know you’re still alive or something.

Tell everybody at school I said hi.

-JT

*********************************

April 18th, 1996

Norah,

You’re really starting to piss me off. I guess I could just call, but Momma would kill me if she sees a charge for a long distance call, and I don’t think you’re worth dying over.

Write me back… please?

-Justin

********************************

April 25th, 1996

To Norah, the possibly illiterate girl who hates me,

That’s the conclusion I’ve come to, ya know. I’ve decided you’re not writing back because you can’t read.

I’m not going to judge you for it. Lots of kids can’t read. Maybe when I’m rich and famous, I’ll start a charity for it. I’ll send a teacher to your house and they can teach you how to read. Then, you’ll be forever in my debt, and be my slave for life. I really like that idea.

I called Trace the other day. He said you ignore him in the halls at school and stay in your house all the time. I guess I wouldn’t go outside if I couldn’t read either.

Maybe when the letters come you can give them to your mom, and she can read them to you. Then you can dictate to her and she can write your responses. I’ll even pretend that I didn’t tell you to do that, and that you’re the one doing the actual writing.

You know what… I think I need to get some sleep. If you learn how to read by the time you get this, write me back.

-JRT

***************************************************

May 1st, 1996

Norah,

Fine, I give up. This will be the last letter I send. Try not to celebrate too much.

I’ll be honest… I miss home, a lot. Don’t get me wrong, I love being here and I love what I’m doing, but I really hate being so far away from everything. I thought hearing from someone back home would help me feel like I wasn’t missing out on everything.

But, since you won’t write me back, I’m starting to feel even more homesick. And I don’t know why… it’s not like we’re even friends. I guess I just like fighting with you. Well… I guess you can’t really call it fighting. I mostly give you shit, and you just take it. So I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that as the youngest guy in the group, I’m the one who catches all the shit now.

They make fun of my hair a lot, and I don’t know why. My hair is awesome, at least that’s what all the girls back home told me. They crack on my voice too. Honestly, they make fun of everything about me. I really liked all of them at first, but I don’t think I do anymore.

I guess I’m trying to say, I finally know how you felt when we were little. Anyway, I won’t bug you anymore. Hope school’s going ok and everything.

-Justin

************************************

May 17th, 1996

Justin,

Alright you whiney brat… here’s a stupid letter. I hope you know just how lame ass this is. There’s a telephone literally two feet away from me. If you wanted to talk to me so badly, you could have just called. Although, I doubt I would have answered. As I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t really like you.

I don’t know why you feel the need to explain all your music nonsense to me. I don’t care. And I also know that you don’t miss me… you miss getting away with being a little jerk.

I have to say… it’s nice to hear that your bandmates make fun of you. Lord knows you deserve it. And no offense… but your hair is not awesome. It kind of looks like a retarded poodle took up residence on your head. As for your voice, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… when you sing, you sound like a goat on helium. It’s about time karma came back to bite you in the ass.

And you should know by now that Trace is a liar. I’ll bet he didn’t tell you why I’ve been ignoring him at school, did he?

That ugly little troll put a smoke bomb in my locker. My book bag, gym clothes and folders all smelled like eggs for two weeks. The principal called my mom and told her to keep an eye on my personal hygiene. You can tell Trace that I hope a very large animal, with really sharp teeth eats him. Slowly.

As for you… I hope you get volcanic boils all over your body.

Sincerely,

The perfectly literate girl who really does hate you.