Anna Hamilton slipped into her first
period Honors English class just as the bell rang on the fourth day of school
(or the second day of that set of classes). Her bus had been on the late side
and the fact that she wasn’t yet used to the idea of lockers and locker combinations
and those things combined with the fact that she was new to Mountain Ridge
Middle School had promised disaster, but Anna had made it just in time.
She picked out a seat in the back corner of the room
and went to it as quietly as she could, so that she wouldn’t interrupt those
of her classmates who actually used the moment of silence. She wished that
the teacher, Mrs. Shores, had assigned seats. If she had, Anna wouldn’t have
been forced to take a back seat. Her glasses were broken, and she had to squint
to make out the lettering on the board as the principal announced the end
of the moment of silence over the loudspeaker. “GRAMMAR WARM-UP, VOCABULARY,
PENPALS,” it said in Mrs. Shores’s large, block writing.
“Penpals?” she asked out loud to herself.
“Yeah… I wonder what that is,” the girl next to her said
quietly. She was Jenny Springer, if Anna’s memory was serving her correctly.
A quiet girl… shy… kept her nose in a book. Just about the opposite of Anna,
except for the part about the book. Anna looked down at the pile on top of
her desk. Sitting on top was a copy of Lioness Rampant by Tamora Pierce.
She never went anywhere without a book.
The morning announcements were concluded with the principal’s
usual, “Have a nice day,” and Mrs. Shores left her desk and strode up to the
front of the room. She put the grammar warm-up up on the overhead projector
in silence. Though many students tried to ask questions about the “PENPALS”
written on the board, she refused to give out any information on the topic.
And so it went for the forty minutes of class. They got
the grammar warm-up and the vocabulary (new words that Anna thought were rather
pathetic, since she already knew half of them) over with, with students whispering
while they worked, which Anna was surprised to find Mrs. Shores allowing.
She didn’t know what other students were whispering about, but Anna and Jenny
were discussing the penpals and trying to figure out why Mrs. Shores had
them mentioned on the board. Both girls knew what penpals were, but
they had never actually had penpals through school. Jenny said that when
her sister had been in eighth grade she hadn’t had a penpal, so older curriculums
didn’t help. Neither girl could put a finger on why they would be having
penpals that year, or from where.
The students didn’t have to wait long after vocabulary
to find out what they were all wondering about. As the clock hit 9:10, Mrs.
Shores once again left her desk and walked to the center of the room. Unlike
other teachers, she didn’t do anything to quiet down her class. Mrs. Shores
just stood there in the center of the room and waited for her students to
stop their hushed chatter and give her their attention. She didn’t have to
wait long, and soon she was able to start her explanation.
“Boys and girls,” Mrs. Shores started loudly. She realized
her mistake and dropped her voice before going on. “You will be the first
ever eighth grade class at Mountain Ridge Middle School to participate in
the brand new national penpal program.”
“Well, if it’s brand new, we’d have to be the
first,” Alex Itkin interrupted from the seat in front of Jenny. Mrs. Shores
gave him a stern look before continuing.
“The program allows students from one state to contact
and create friendships with students from other states. Our school is paired
up with Atlantis Middle School in Cooper City, Florida. You will be permitted
to access your e-mail from the school computers, and use it to contact your
assigned penpal.”
Oh, so that’s why she collected our e-mail
addresses yesterday…Anna thought.
“Line up by the door. We will proceed to the first computer
lab and I will give further instructions there.”
The class lined up, and Anna rose from her seat slowly.
There was a grin on her face. A friend in Florida—what a place! She couldn’t
imagine living in a Southern state, since she had lived in Maryland up until
a few weeks before, when her family moved to Virginia. She wondered what her
penpal would be like. Would the penpal be a male or a female? Would he or
she be nice? Would he or she have anything in common with Anna? She’d just
have to find out.
Once in the lab, Mrs. Shores called out computers. Anna
sat down at her assigned computer, L1-07. She was disappointed to find that
she was stuck sitting between Megan Graham at L1-06 and Alex Itkin at L1-08.
Seated between a member of the popular crowd and the class clown was not
Anna’s idea of fun, but she kept quiet and listened as Mrs. Shores began to
speak once again.
“You will be on the computers and on the Internet, but
that does not mean that you can goof off and play games. You will be using
your personal e-mail and your personal e-mail only. We know where each of
you has e-mail, and we will catch you if you go to another website.
You are to write your first e-mail message to your penpal today. Do not think
you can fake your letter, because we will be watching you. Yes, you,
Alex. Listen as I call out the names of your penpals.”
Please let it be someone good; please let it be someone
good! Anna half thought, half prayed. She didn’t believe in G-d, but it
helped anyway.
“Hamilton, Anna. Your penpal will be Katherine Smith.
Her e-mail address is [email protected].” Anna marked down the information,
and opened her computer’s Internet Explorer program. Blue and gold coloring
exploded from the school website that was her computer’s homepage, and she
typed in the address for her e-mail: www.excite.com. She logged in as annabitbad
and began writing her letter.
Dear Katherine,
I suppose by the time you get this you’ll know
all about this penpal program that is the reason I’m writing you. I won’t
bother to explain, seeing as I don’t quite understand it myself. Why start
this now? What educational purpose is there in having penpals,
especially this late in school life? I mean, we’re almost high schoolers
for heaven sake! Oh well. Whatever they have in store for us, they have in
store.
I guess I should introduce myself, seeing as you’ve never seen
me or even heard of me. I’m Anna Louise Hamilton. I live in Hugsville, Virginia.
Isn’t that the weirdest name? Hugsville. They do that a lot here. There’s
another town nearby called Lovettsville. I guess the people who went around
naming places here in Northern Virginia were big on sensitivity. Still, it’s
pretty embarrassing to live in a town called Hugsville, don’t you think?
I was rambling again, wasn’t I? Be warned, I do that a lot.
My friend Sarah back in Maryland (I just moved from there a few weeks ago.
Have you ever heard of Chestertown? That’s where I lived) always said that
I think too much, and I think she may be right.
Let’s see, where was I? Oh yeah, physical appearance!
I’m approximately 5’3” and I’m about average when it comes to width—not skinny,
but not fat, either. My hair is straight and brown, and just a bit past shoulder
length. Most people I’ve met with brown hair have brown eyes, too. I don’t.
I might as well be a cat, because my eyes are green. Not pale green, either,
more of a bright green. I’ll have to send you a picture sometime.
As for my personality… isn’t that
so much more important than looks? Why do looks always come first in
a letter, if personality matters more? Anyway, as you can probably
tell, I tend to be talkative. More so in writing than in real life, but I
am rather loud and opinionated in real life. Writing’s always more
wordy, though. I do a lot of writing. It’s a chance to let everything out
that I need to let out, without anyone telling me, “Anna, would you shut your
mouth already?” I get that a lot, mostly jokingly from my father, but also
from the people here at school. I need my writing. I mostly write in my journal,
lengthy entries about everything that’s going on, but I also write poetry
sometimes, and a bit of fiction. Poetry’s what I love best, though I don’t
think I’m very good at it. It’s like song. Actually, some of it is song.
The lyrics of a song are just another form of poetry, are they not?
Music. That’s another thing I like. Nothing
can compare to a good song. I love to listen to music, but I also love
to sing. Isn’t singing just wonderful? To be able to use the voice,
the actual audible voice rather than the inside voice that’s used in writing,
and make beautiful sounds come out… oh, it’s just wonderful! The good
stuff doesn’t come out of me in real life using the audible voice, just in
writing. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m able to be in Honors classes! I’d rather
keep quiet than let them hear me stumble—my magic is worked out on paper.
Along with writing come books. Are you a big reader?
I am. I don’t think I go anywhere without a book, even the bathroom! You
must be a reader, oh you just must. I can’t imagine a girl named Katherine
who doesn’t like reading. What books do you read? I’m big into fantasy—have
you ever heard of Tamora Pierce? Oh, her books are just excellent.
I’m reading one of them—Lioness Rampant, the fourth book of the Song of the
Lioness quartet—for the sixth time right now. There’s nothing like a good
book to help you escape life and travel all around, to fictional places or
places right in our world. Don’t you agree?
What about you? What are you like? I’ve just told
you all about me—well, not all about me, but enough. The period’s almost
over. Can you believe that I’ve been writing this for the past half an hour?
We have block scheduling so we have an hour and a half for class, but we
did have other things to do today. Yeah… I’m at it again, aren’t I? Anyway,
what are you like? I know you live in Cooper City—Mrs. Shores (my
English teacher this year) told us that. Or do you live in a town near
Cooper City, and just go to school there?
What do you look like? I’m going to guess, just going by your
name. Katherine Smith. I would guess that you have brown hair, maybe a bit
curly? Brown eyes, like most brown haired girls have. They’d show patience,
am I right? Katherine sounds like a patient girl. Katherine also sounds tall.
Are you tall?
What are you like when it comes to personality? Oh, I hope
you’re nice. I wouldn’t be able to stand having a penpal who’s not
nice. Yes, you must be nice. What are you like, though? Do you read, do you
write, do you sing? Do you play any sports? Oh, I left that out. I
don’t play sports, because I find them a waste of time. Why spend your time
outside hitting a ball with a bat when you could be reading a book or learning
something? Do you think that sports are a waste of time? I’m sorry if you
play one and I’ve offended you. I’m not saying that sports are a bad
thing, just that they’re not right for me.
I hope you reply to this soon. I would really love to
hear from you, and hear all about you and what you think.
Mrs. Shores just tapped me on the shoulder. I’ve been typing
up a storm, you know. The bell is about to ring. I’ll write to you again as
soon as I get your letter, okay? Bye!
Your penpal,
Anna Hamilton
Anna clicked the send button and logged off her computer.
She felt good about this whole penpal idea.
§
Kate Smith only faintly heard the bell announcing the
start of her fourth period English class. She looked up from her book, Dangerous
Minds by LouAnne Johnson, and placed her bookmark in it to mark her spot,
then slid it into her desk. She then sat up straight and smiled at her teacher,
Mrs. Jackson. She was seated in the front center desk, just where she liked
it. Kate wasn’t a teacher’s pet, contrary to what her classmates thought.
She just liked to be under the teacher’s nose in case someone tried to use
her to make trouble.
Kate, like her classmates, took her literature book out
of her desk. After three days of classes, they had noticed a pattern in Mrs.
Jackson’s teaching. Each day they started out reading something out of the
big, brown literature book. Twice it had been a poem, but the previous day
they had read a page-long short story. Kate wished that she could understand
poetry. She found it beautiful, especially the ones about nature, but she
could never tell the meanings behind the poems.
“Put your literature books away, class,” Mrs. Jackson
said. Kate looked at her with a confused look on her face. Was this not an
ordinary day? “Today we will be doing something different. There is a new
program in American schools this year. All across the nation schools are participating
in a penpal program for eighth graders, and Atlantis Middle School has joined
it. We will be writing students at a school in the city of Leesburg in Virginia
called Mountain Ridge Middle School. You will be writing through e-mail rather
than the United States postal service to spare time. Some of you will have
messages from your penpals already, from those of the students who have already
had class today. Follow me to Computer Lab Three and I assign you your penpals
for the duration of this year, and you can get started.”
Kate was none too impressed with the idea of a penpal
program. She didn’t get along with the people right near her in Florida, so
why should it be any different with someone all the way up north in Virginia?
She could have a penpal who was a horrible, preppy girl or someone who hangs
around with the skater boys. And she was expected to write to this
person? It may not even be a girl. Kate had never liked boys. It would
be just her luck to get one as a penpal.
A penpal. Kate had read books about children in penpal
programs. They told all their secrets (and lies) to their penpals, and then
disaster struck. Ick. Kate didn’t like the idea of telling her secrets to
anyone, let alone a total stranger. No, Kate didn’t like the idea of
the penpal program.
Once everyone was seated at his or her assigned computer,
Mrs. Jackson passed out pieces of paper. On each slip there was a name and
an e-mail address. This was the information for each person’s Virginian penpal.
When Mrs. Jackson reached computer C3-18, Kate looked at her slip of paper.
Hamilton, Anna, it said, along with listing an e-mail address: [email protected].
Kate opened the Netscape browser and went to Hotmail.
She logged on as toughkat36 and was surprised at what she saw. “Inbox (1)”
it stated, indicating that she had a new message. Kate rarely had mail, since
she gave out the name of her other account more often. Going to her inbox,
she found out why she had a message. Under “from,” her new message had the
name “Anna Hamilton.” Anna had already had her class, and she had sent Kate
her first penpal letter.
Kate read over Anna’s message once quickly, and then
went back to read it again more carefully. This girl, Anna, struck a nerve
on Kate. She sounded so, so cocky. She said she was a rambler, and
that showed. It showed a lot more than Kate could stand. Did she really have
to write to this girl?
Kate sighed, clicked the reply button, and started to
respond to the Anna whom she so disliked already.
Greetings, Anna Louise Hamilton. Let us get one thing
straight right from the start. My name is not Katherine. I’m Kate,
Kate Smith. The only people who call me Katherine are my parents, and only
when they’re angry with me. They don’t call me anything the rest of
the time.
Kate looked at the screen and what she had written. What
was she doing? She was telling things that she wasn’t ready to tell
already! It was the writing. Things too easy slipped out in writing.
She sighed and continued her letter.
You guessed correctly as to where I live. Here in
Florida, we go to both elementary and middle schools in the same town as
we live. Some go to high schools in the surrounding areas, but we
have our own high school right here in Cooper City.
Your guess on my appearance was actually fairly accurate.
Add in there that my hair is halfway down my back, and you have it. I’m far
from patient, though. I like things done, and I like them done yesterday.
Other than that, you have it. What, does my evil Katherine twin live in Virginia
or something of the sort?
Kate smiled at her attempt at a joke. It was actually
a pretty good one, better than she could usually produce. Anna seemed like
the joking kind of girl. Even if she didn’t like Anna’s letter, first
impressions could be very deceiving. Besides, even if the Anna in the first
letter was the real Anna, Kate saw reason to be nice and friendly,
at least at first.
I am glad you like reading and writing. It’s good
that we have something in common, if we are to be penpals. I cannot
write poetry, no matter how hard I try. My stuff is junk. Give me a good
plot idea and a keyboard, though, and I can produce a fairly nice short story.
Fiction, of course. Actual life is too depressing to write about.
Drop the fantasy around me, girl. I am no fantasy fan.
It’s too much confusion for my taste. I may try this Tamora Pierce
you speak of, though, just to get a taste of what you like. My kind
of reading is far, far away from your fantasy. I like to read about real life,
of the past and of today. I love to look into the lives of those with troubles
that they actually solve somewhere in the middle to the end of the
book. Wouldn’t it be wonderful were real life like that? Wars are nice, too.
War—fighting—is quite interesting, as long as they are away from the home.
Do not diss sports to me. As much as I like a good read,
I also like sports. I play soccer, because I like to kick at things. Might
as well take the energy out on a ball and use it to score a goal. What else
is there to do with it, other than cause trouble?
We have a regular school day, which means that this class
is pretty much over. Not that I have much else to say anyway. I’ll talk to
you.
Kate reread her letter to make sure that she hadn’t included
anything too personal. No secrets would get out of her for this Anna
to use against her. Once she saw that she was fine, she signed her name. As
a last thought before sending, she added a postscript.
P.S.- Check out my website if you want to know more about
me. It’s at Geocities.com. I’ll leave you to figure out my name on there.
You should be able to from the information you have. If you can’t figure
it out, don’t come complaining to me in your letter. You figure it out or
you wait for information in the form of these letters.
Kate smiled. If Anna was clever enough, she would get
into Kate’s website. That should hold the rambling girl for a while. She hit
the send button, logged off her computer, and picked up her book.