Read Forever & Always: The Ever Trilogy (Book 1) for Free Online Page B

give you the answer before you asked.
    As for school? Yeah, I know what you mean. The seniors are assholes. I know it’s probably different for guys, but senior girls are just as big of assholes as the guys, I’m pretty sure. With senior girls, they’re just evil, but they’re usually subtle about it. Usually. It’s this snipey, snippy attitude. They make fun of your outfit, which is a big deal for girls, if you didn’t already know. They make fun of your shoes or your makeup or your purse, simply because you’re not them. I’m pretty on top of fashion, I guess, but I just don’t care enough to make sure I have the newest style purse or the latest shoes or whatever. It’s just stupid. I like to look good, sure, but it’s not as important to me as it is some other girls. The popular clique senior girls, it’s all they care about. They’re so vapid and shallow it makes me sick. They drive their daddy’s BMW or Mercedes or Range Rover and act like they earned it. I know my dad has as much money as theirs, and I know that everything I have, all the clothes and whatever, is because of his job, not because of anything I did. These stupid senior girls, the cool, in-crowd ones? Have you ever seen that old movie Clueless ? Probably not. It’s this movie about all these, haha, clueless rich girls at a school in Beverly Hills, and they all act so superior because their daddies are rich. And that’s how these idiotic Bloomfield Hills bitches act. Like how much money their daddy has versus mine versus the other girl and whoever is so important, like it’s a social ladder, you know? And I just don’t care. I don’t.  
    I just want to paint and sculpt and not miss Mom anymore.  
    And by the way, your letter was totally fine. You sounded just like you, and that’s what I wanted. It’s fine to ask questions. Friends ask friends questions, right? So ask me anything, and don’t ever feel weird about how your letters sound. No one will ever read them except me. Promise.
    I guess I’ve rambled on enough for now, so I’ll end here.  
    Funny, I almost wrote “let you go” like I was talking on the phone.  
    I hope school gets better for you. I’m looking forward to your next letter.

    Sincerely,
    Your friend,
    Ever

indelible ink inscriptions

    Dear Ever,
    It’s hard to write this letter. I’m not sure what to even say, but I feel like I can tell you things because we’re friends, and somehow these letters are almost like a journal. I know you read them, and I read yours.  
    My mom has cancer. I just found out today. Breast cancer. I guess she’s known for about two months, and they never told me. They wanted to wait and see if the chemotherapy would help before telling me, or something. I don’t know. But I guess it’s not helping, and they don’t think anything will.  
    My dad told me. He used the same kinds of words I’m guessing the doctors used with him, big words, medical terms. All it means, once you cut through all the bullshit, is that Mom is going to die.  
    Shit. Seeing that in writing is so much different than thinking it.  
    What do I do?  
    She’s afraid, and my dad is afraid. I’m afraid. But we’re not talking about it. They talk about keeping up spirits and thinking positive and fighting to the end, and all that morale-raising shit. They don’t believe it. I don’t. No one does.  
    How can you, when each day passes and I can see her getting skinny, like the skeleton inside her is coming out through her skin? Am I supposed to tell myself it’ll be okay when it won’t?  
    Shit. I’m not a very good pen pal, I guess. I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff. It’s depressing.  
    I’m not even going to bother writing anymore. You don’t have to write back, if you don’t want to.
    I hope you’re okay.  

    Sincerely,  
    Your friend,
    Caden

    Caden,
    Of course I’d write you back. I’ll always write you back. This is what pen pals are for, after all, right? I’m okay. I