If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie.
I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun, among other things which I'd rather not talk about, at least not now.
Mom.
Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.
Bella.
I sent that, and began writing another email. Like mother, like daughter.
Mom,
Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about that wasn't the rain. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. Everyone likes me. I met some nice kids who sit by me at lunch, but I think they just like to look at me while they eat.
Your blouse is at the dry cleaners— you were supposed to pick it up Friday.47
Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, and red, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.
I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my email every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you.
Bella.
I had decided to read Wuthering Heights—the novel we were currently studying in English—yet again for the
47. Bella and her mom are close. Sometimes, they know each other better than they know themselves.