The Perks of Being a Wallflower

their graduation presents. I really haven’t had time to do that until now.
    Love always,
Charlie         
    June 16, 1992
    Dear friend,
    I just rode home on the bus. It was the last day of school for me today. And it was raining. When I do ride the bus, I usually sit toward the middle because I’ve heard sitting in the front is for nerds and sitting in the back is for squids, and the whole thing makes me nervous. I don’t know what they call “squids” in other schools.
    Anyway, today I decided to sit in the front with my legs over the whole seat. Kind of like I was lying down with my back to the window. I did this so I could look back at the other kids on the bus. I’m glad school buses don’t have seat belts, or else I wouldn’t have been able to do it.
    The one thing I noticed was how different everyone looked. When we were all little, we used to sing songs on the bus ride home from the last day of school. The favorite song was a Pink Floyd song, I found out later, called Another Brick in the Wall, Part II. But there was this other song we loved even more because it ended with a swear. It went like this…
    No more pencils/no more books/no more teachers’ dirty looks/when the teacher rings the bell/drop your books and run like hell.

    When we finished, we looked at the bus driver for a tense second. Then, we all laughed because we knew we could get in trouble for swearing, but the strength of our numbers would prevent any retribution. We were too young to know that the bus driver didn’t care about our song. That all he wanted to do was go home after work. And maybe sleep off the drinks he had at lunch. Back then, it didn’t matter. The nerds and the squids were one.
    My brother came home Saturday night. And he looked even more different than the kids on the school bus looked compared to the beginning of the year. He had a beard! I was so happy! He also smiled different and was more “courteous.” We all sat down to dinner, and everyone asked him questions about college. Dad asked about football. Mom asked about classes. I asked for all the fun stories. My sister asked nervous questions about what college is “really” like and would she put on the “freshman fifteen”? I don’t know what this is, but I’m guessing it means you get fatter.
    I was expecting my brother to just talk and talk about himself for a long time. He would do that whenever there was a big game in high school or the prom or something. But he seemed a lot more interested in what we were all doing, especially my sister with her graduation.
    So, while they were talking, I suddenly remembered the TV news sports man and what he said about my brother. I got so excited. And I told my whole family. And this is what happened as a result.
    My dad said, “Hey! How about that?!”
    My brother said, “Really!?”
    I said, “Yeah. I talked to him.”
    My brother said, “Did he say something good?”
    My father said, “Any press is good press.” I don’t know where my father learns these things.
    My brother kept going. “What did he say?”
    I said, “Well, I think he said that college sports puts a lot of pressure on the students who do them.” My brother kept nodding. “But he said that it built character. And he said that Penn State was looking really good with their recruitment. And he mentioned you.”
    My dad said, “Hey! How about that?”
    My brother said, “Really?”
    I said, “Yeah. I talked to him.”
    My brother said, “When did you talk to him?”
    I said, “A couple weeks ago.”
    And then I froze because I suddenly remembered the other part. The fact that I met the man in the park at night. And the fact that I gave him one of my cigarettes. And the fact that he was trying to pick me up. I just sat there, hoping it would go away. But it didn’t.
    “Where did you meet him, honey?” my mom asked.
    The room turned pins and needles quiet. And I did my best impersonation of myself when I can’t remember something. And here’s what’s going on inside my head.
    Okay … he came to school to have a talk with the class … no … my sister would know it was a lie … I met him at the Big Boy … he was with his family … no … my dad would scold me for bothering the “poor man” … he said it on a news cast … but I said I talked to him … wait…
    “In the park. I was there with Patrick,” I said.
    My dad said, “Was he there with his family? Did you bother the poor man?”
    “No. He was