The school called today to make sure I was ready for the new year. They left a message on the answering machine about it.

Am I ready for the school year? Should I even be going to school? My friends don't want to see me. I doubt I'll be able to focus on the work long enough to actually get it done. And then there's the people.. I really shouldn't have done this to myself. I only did it because everything was dirty, everything about me felt as if there was a thick slime covering it... So I bleached my hair, to cleanse myself.

It didn't work, though. I still feel dirty.

I saw my friends once before the last school year ended and they made fun of me for what I did. What will the other kids do when they see my hair?

Won't school just be a stretch of ridicule for me? And my face, I don't even want to think about what they'll say about that... My dad used to tell me I shouldn't care what people think but of all the things he told me, why should I take that one seriously, especially now, after everything that's happened?

I suppose in a way, they do care, somewhat. They're still paying the bills here. Maybe it's so that I won't say anything about what happened. Mom, Dad, you didn't have to do that. I won't say anything. I can't. My voice seems to have disappeared. Every time I try to speak, nothing comes out. So you don't have to worry about your baby boy telling the family secret. Not yet anyway. I'll wait to tell people after it's too late for anyone to do anything about.

Believe me, I’ve wanted to get rid of your problem altogether but if I did that now, someone would raise questions... wouldn't they? Maybe not. Our next door neighbor stopped by the other day, so maybe she might notice if I disappeared. She came to tell me that she'd be there for me for as long as she can, because she saw when you left. Apparently she's taking a position at the school. She doesn't know our secret but she's been taking care of me, feeding me and doing laundry for me.

She doesn't seem to mind, but I help her cook when I can. I don't know how to help with laundry, mom. You always did that for me and told me to go help dad with something.

I couldn’t read anymore after that. There were two reasons why. The first, the next page had one line and after that there weren’t any more entries, and the second was because I was running back down the steps to take off down the street again.

I won’t be writing anymore, I found a new outlet. So this is goodbye.