September 3rd, 1975

Dear Oliver,

Elvira really likes lavender roses. All her dresses have flowers on them, so I don’t know why I was surprised. Did you know that lavender roses mean love at first sight? Because I didn’t. How was I supposed to know that? Why wasn’t it written on the tag when I bought it? I thought it was only red roses that have romantic connotations. I was going to buy yellow, they mean friendship I think, but I couldn’t find any. Lavender seemed like a good idea at the time. That damn florist, Lindsey or Lauren or something, she was the one who suggested lavender roses. I mean, she was a nice girl so maybe she didn’t know what they meant. Or maybe she did. She gave me this smile when I said I was getting the roses for a friend. That quirk of her lips, I should have known she’d gotten the wrong idea.

Honestly? I can’t be that mad about it. The lavender roses might have been an okay idea.

I don’t think Elvira’s quite as she seems. Does that make sense? It’s hard to explain. The day before she gave off this meek, back of the library bookworm vibe. She still does for the most part. I gave her the flowers before class. If you could have seen her face, I didn’t know it was possible for a person to go that red. It was like a cartoon, I could almost see the smoke fuming out her ears. I mean that in a good way, I think.

Anyway, I gave her the flowers and you know what she says?

She flutters her eyes at me, like a fucking cat eyeing a goldfish, and she says, “Goodness, are you enchanted by me, Mr. Frost?”

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I don’t know how I reacted to that. She laughed at my expression so it must’ve been funny. I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t know what to do. Do I say no? Do I say yes? Was it even a question I’m supposed to answer?

So yeah, Elvira’s not quite as she seems. She’s something else. I’m not sure what, but she’s definitely something.

We sat together again, still bumping elbows. We didn’t talk; the teacher was on time so we couldn’t. But she smiled at me. She kept glancing down at the flowers. They were leaning against her back under the desk.

I just got in the door and I have to leave for work in a half-hour. I better eat something before I go. I’m tempted to swing by Dairy Queen or A&W but I know my wallet will hate me for it later. I’m such a shitty cook, though, and it's so close to the library. I see Elvira and her friends hanging out around there sometimes.

I don’t know why I’m talking about this girl so much. I’m sorry, there’s just something about her that gets to me. Her and her friends. Maybe it’s how much my parents would hate them. They’d probably like Elvira, actually. Judging by the way she dresses. But if her tongue is as sharp as I think it is, I doubt they’d like her for long. Maybe that’s why I like her. I mean, not like like her, but you know, I like her. She is a pleasant human being whom I’d like to get to know better. That’s it. Probably won’t get to know her better, though. She’s already got plenty of friends and I don’t think they like me too much. I know I’m a paranoid mess so it might just be in my head, but whenever I pass them I feel them staring. They’re looking for something in me. Maybe they’re vetting me to see if I’m good enough for Elvira. It’s not like they’d be wrong to think I’m not, because I’m clearly a nitwit. There’s no hiding that.

Why am I even thinking about this? What would it matter if I’m ‘good enough’ for this girl? I’m not trying to be.

There’s something about all of them that’s getting to me.

I need to go make myself dinner. Thanks for listening, Oliver.