The Perks of Being a Wallflower

dances?”
    “I’m not a very good dancer.”
    “Are you going on dates?”
    “Well, I don’t have a car, and even if I did, I can’t drive because I’m fifteen, and anyway, I haven’t met a girl I like except for Sam, but I am too young for her, and she would always have to drive, which I don’t think is fair.”
    Bill smiled and continued asking me questions. Slowly, he got to “problems at home.” And I told him about the boy who makes mix tapes hitting my sister because my sister only told me not to tell mom or dad about it, so I figured I could tell Bill. He got this very serious look on his face after I told him, and he said something to me I don’t think I will forget this semester or ever.
    “Charlie, we accept the love we think we deserve.”
    I just stood there, quiet. Bill patted my shoulder and gave me a new book to read. He told me everything was going to be okay.
    I usually walk home from school because it makes me feel like I’ve earned it. What I mean is that I want to be able to tell my kids that I walked to school like my grandparents did in the “old days.” It’s odd that I’m planning this considering I’ve never had a date, but I guess that makes sense. It usually takes me an extra hour or so to walk as opposed to taking the bus, but it’s worth it when the weather is nice and cool like it was today.
    When I finally got home, my sister was sitting on a chair. My mom and my dad were standing in front of her. And I knew that Bill had called home and told them. And I felt terrible. It was all my fault.
    My sister was crying. My mom was very very quiet. My dad did all the talking. He said that my sister was not allowed to see the boy who hit her anymore, and he was going to have a talk with the boy’s parents tonight. My sister then said that it was all her fault, that she was provoking him, but my dad said it was no excuse.
    “But I love him!” I had never seen my sister cry that much.
    “No, you don’t.”
    “I hate you!”
    “No, you don’t.” My dad can be very calm sometimes.
    “He’s my whole world.”
    “Don’t ever say that about anyone again. Not even me.” That was my mom.
    My mom chooses her battles carefully, and I can tell you one thing about my family. When my mom does say something, she always gets her way. And this time was no exception. My sister stopped crying immediately.
    After that, my dad gave my sister a rare kiss on the forehead. Then, he left the house, got in his Oldsmobile, and drove away. I thought he probably was going to talk to the boy’s parents. And I felt very sorry for them. His parents, I mean. Because my dad doesn’t lose fights. He just doesn’t.
    My mom then went into the kitchen to make my sister’s favorite thing to eat, and my sister looked at me.
    “I hate you.”
    My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me. She really did.
    “I love you,” was all I could say in return.
    “You’re a freak, you know that? You’ve always been a freak. Everyone says so. They always have.”
    “I’m trying not to be.”
    Then, I turned around and walked to my room and closed my door and put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.
    By the way, I figure you are probably curious about my dad. Did he hit us when we were kids or now even? I just thought you might be curious because Bill was, after I told him about that boy and my sister. Well, if you are wondering, he didn’t. He never touched my brother or sister. And the only time he ever slapped me was when I made my Aunt Helen cry. And once we all calmed down, he got on his knees in front of me and said that his stepdad hit him a lot, and he decided in college when my mom got pregnant with my older brother that he would never hit his kids. And he felt terrible for doing it. And he was so sorry. And he would never hit me again. And he hasn’t.
    He’s just stern sometimes.
    Love always,
Charlie         
    October 15, 1991
    Dear friend,
    I guess I forgot to mention in my last letter that it was Patrick who told me about masturbation. I guess I also forgot to tell you how often I do it now, which is a lot. I don’t like to look at pictures. I just close my eyes and dream about a lady I do not know. And I try not to feel ashamed. I never think about Sam when I do it. Never. That’s very important to me because I was so happy when she said “Charlie-esque” since it felt like an inside joke of