Chapter 63
Dear Blessica!
I’m not mad. I’m sure your letter will arrive any day now. Or it got lost & will arrive with the answer to my last one. Or maybe no one at Hell College taught you how letters work. It’s simple:
a) read the letter sent to you
b) answer the questions therein
c) tell an interesting or, much better, shocking thing that’s happened to you
d) thank your extremely thoughtful & wonderful correspondent for writing you in between vomiting & swelling up & being covered in red scaly horror rashes.
I’m sure it’s easy to write letters when not vomming, swelling & scratching. (IF MY MOM SNEAKS A READ OF THIS I’M NOT ACTUALLY SCRATCHING BECAUSE I KNOW ABOUT INFECTIONS!)
Since I last wrote, I’ve read Pride & Prejudice & fallen in love with……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-……………-.
Ampersands!
Haha! I bet you thought I was going to say Darcy. (Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy is his proper name.) Apparently everyone loves him. I do not. I find him most vexing. But not as vexatious as people who break their epistolary promises.
Don’t say you’re too busy studying to write.
Everyone tells me that Helshire is super easy.
Are you not writing because you have a new paramour?
(If you do, ewww! Kissing is gross.) Because your creepy family won’t let you?
(How exactly is your family creepy? No one here will explain.) It better not be because you forgot me! (You said I was unforgettable!)
I could write &s all day long. I like how &s swirl.
The new nurse, Victoire (she’s from Quebec & has the best accent) says that ampersands are lazy, but I demur because it takes me longer to write “&” than to write “a-n-d” & the & looks prettier.
Victoire just laughed. She laughs a lot.
I like her better than Nurse (formerly) Eyebrows.
My next news is dispiriting. It turns out some species of octopus aren’t exploding because of climate change.
They’re disappearing because the water’s too warm for their eggs.
Also the doctors say the immunotherapy isn’t working as well as they thought.
My legs are still wonky. Next up: experimental drugs!
Which means I’m the experiment. Mom’s hopeful. Dad cries a lot. So does Amy. She says nothing though. Did you meet Amy? I can’t remember. If you did you’d know I was joking because Amy is nine months old. She makes noise but not words. Mostly she just cries.
Tell me anything!
Wear a seat belt!!
Love & hugs!!!
Bellamy!!!!