The Perks of Being a Wallflower

sorts.
    One night, I felt so guilty that I promised God that I would never do it again. So, I started using blankets, but then the blankets hurt, so I started using pillows, but then the pillows hurt, so I went back to normal. I wasn’t raised very religiously because my parents went to Catholic school, but I do believe in God very much. I just never gave God a name, if you know what I mean. I hope I haven’t let Him down regardless.
    Incidentally, my dad did have a serious talk with the boy’s parents. The boy’s mother was very very angry and screamed at her son. The boy’s father kept quiet. And my dad didn’t get too personal with them. He didn’t tell them they did a “lousy job” raising their son or anything.
    As far as he was concerned, the only important thing was getting their help to keep their son away from his daughter. Once that was settled, he left them to deal with their family and came home to deal with his. At least that’s how he put it.
    The one thing I did ask my dad was about the boy’s problems at home. Whether or not he thought the parents hit their son. He told me to mind my own business. Because he didn’t know and would never ask and didn’t think it mattered.
    “Not everyone has a sob story, Charlie, and even if they do, it’s no excuse.”
    That’s all he said. And then we went to watch television.
    My sister is still mad at me, but my dad said I did the right thing. I hope that I did, but it’s hard to tell sometimes.
    Love always,
Charlie         
    October 28, 1991
    Dear friend,
    I’m sorry I haven’t written to you in a couple of weeks, but I have been trying to “participate” like Bill said. It’s strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book. Also, when I write letters, I spend the next two days thinking about what I figured out in my letters. I do not know if this is good or bad. Nevertheless, I am trying to participate.
    Incidentally, the book Bill gave me was Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie. I know what you’re thinking. The cartoon Peter Pan with the lost boys. The actual book is so much better than that. It’s just about this boy who refuses to grow up, and when Wendy grows up, he feels very betrayed. At least that’s what I got out of it. I think Bill gave me the book to teach me a lesson of some kind.
    The good news is that I read the book, and because of its fantasy nature, I could not pretend that I was in the book. That way I could participate and still read.
    In terms of my participation in things, I am trying to go to social events that they set up in my school. It’s too late to join any clubs or anything like that, but I still try to go to the things that I can. Things like the homecoming football game and dance, even if I don’t have a date.
    I cannot imagine that I will ever come home for a homecoming game after I leave here, but it was fun to pretend that I was. I found Patrick and Sam sitting in their normal spot in the bleachers, and I started acting like I hadn’t seen them in a year even though I had seen them that afternoon in lunch when I ate my orange, and they smoked cigarettes.
    “Patrick, is that you? And Sam… it’s been so long. Who’s winning? God, college is such a trial. My professor is making me read twenty-seven books this weekend, and my girlfriend needs me to paint signs for her protest rally Tuesday. Let those administrators know we mean business. Dad is busy with his golf swing, and Mom has her hands full with tennis. We must do this again. I would stay, but I have to pick my sister up from her emotional workshop. She’s making real progress. Good to see ya.”
    And then I walked away. I went down to the concession stand and bought three boxes of nachos and a diet coke for Sam. When I returned, I sat down and gave Patrick and Sam the nachos and Sam her diet coke. And Sam smiled. The great thing about Sam is that she doesn’t think I’m crazy for pretending to do things. Patrick doesn’t either, but he was too busy watching the game and screaming at Brad, the quarterback.
    Sam told me during the game that they were going over to their friend’s house later for a party. Then, she asked me if I wanted to go, and I said yes because I had never been to a party before. I had seen one at my house, though.
    My parents went to Ohio to see a very distant cousin get buried or married. I don’t remember which. And they left my brother in charge of the house. He was sixteen at the