Free While He Was Away by Karen Schreck

what you’re doing, I imagine you doing things I’ve seen you do. Sleeping. Reading. Drawing. Listening to music. Making friends the way you so easily do. Unlike me.
2. My tattoo doesn’t hurt anymore. It doesn’t itch anymore either, which means it’s healed, I guess. Hope yours are too.
3. Linda still sometimes goes ballistic, seeing my tattoo. Okay, yeah, whatever, I guess that kind of hurts. I mean, I wish she’d just accept it, you know? When I remind her of the belly-button piercing that she has but I don’t, she usually calms down a bit. I mean, I could have done something way worse than a discreet tat. For instance, I could sport a neon-green domino stud in my belly button like she sometimes does.
She’s at work now, domino stud-less. She left with a warning: “It’s been quite a week, and I know you’ve had a lot on your mind, but I’ve got something I need to discuss with you, pronto. I’m coming home early, soon as I can, so we can discuss it. You better be here.” I hate the word “discuss.” It never means what it’s supposed to mean.
4. My head hurts from carrying around all the things I want to tell you that I’ll never be able to fit into an email. When will you be able to Skype? I want to see you, over there.
5. I’m trying to write a letter to my long-lost grandmother, but I can’t seem to get started. Painful.
6. It hurts to look at my drawings. They’re that bad. I can’t believe it’s only a month until school starts. I’m supposed to have done stuff this summer, right? Worksheets and journals and readings and drawings? Well, I’ve made a dent. But I’ve still got a long way to go, which should be driving me crazy, except guess what? Except for the drawing part, I don’t care.
I love you, and that doesn’t hurt at all—or only in a good way.
Write already, okay?
Penna
     
    I press Send .
    •••
     
    But still I want to hear David’s voice.
    So I do what I’ve been doing for the past twelve days when I feel like this. I pull out the letters he wrote me all last year. I start from the bottom of the stack. The first one is written on the drawing paper that he loved best—which isn’t cheap stuff. It’s written with his Rapidograph pen.
Penna—
Can’t sleep. Keep thinking about today, the sculpture garden, you. Geronimo!
I’m in. I’m totally in. Hope you’re in too.
I never had this happen before, the way it’s happened with you. We met because we’re doing something we both love to do. I like it that I saw your painting before I saw you, before I knew anything about you, and I thought, I’ve got to meet the person who painted that. You were Painter of Awesome Killdeer first. Friend second. And now—now…
I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I’m going to put this in your locker before you even get to school. Find me between classes, or I’ll find you. Have lunch with me. We can eat outside. The weather’s supposed to be great. Oh, that’s right—this is your first Oklahoma fall. It’s the best time of year here, I think, and in the spring. Let’s eat outside every day we can.
David
P.S. If you have to stay after school for any reason, I can give you a ride home on my bike after soccer practice.
    There was always a study session or an art project to work on. I found lots of reasons to stay after school.
    •••
     
    I call Bonnie, but she’s not home yet from work.
    I need to see David at any age. I break down and call Ravi to ask about those photographs.
    Ravi doesn’t answer.
    Probably skateboarding. Or sleeping the day away. Or doing something I don’t want to do right now, or probably ever. Like playing chess.
    I don’t leave a message for Ravi. Holding my cell in my tattooed hand, I will it, I will it, I will it to ring.
    Nothing happens.
    I set the phone on my desk. I’m in the kitchen getting something to eat when I hear it ring.
    I race back to my room, flip it on.
    “Hello?” I gasp, leaning against the bedroom wall.
    “Penna.”
    I