Dear Molly

Dear Molly,

    I'm feeling guilty. I needed to write someone to tell them what we did. If I tell anyone around here, we'll just get in trouble. You're the only one I can trust. I sure do miss you since you moved away, Molly. I hope you're doing alright.

    Since you're gone, Molly, I've had to get some new friends. But, they're not quite like you. They are always angry, they fight sometimes and Katie even smokes cigarettes. I couldn't get through sixth grade without friends though, Molly, you know that right? I hope your new school is better than mine. We don't have any windows and the principal is really mean.

    So, the girls were talking the other day about all our old teachers from Elementary School, like Mrs. Brown, Ms. Collins, and Mr. Pugh. Do you remember Mr. Pugh? He was really nice, its too bad about him. Anyhow, they were saying how much they hated them and how miserable they had made their lives! Well, I admit, Ms. Collins was a witch but I would never plot against her! Molly, they were all sitting around thinking of ways to get back at those teachers.

    Please don't be mad at me if I tell you, okay?

    Tiffany suggested that we go back at night and break a classroom window, but Sophia thinks that there might be an alarm system that would go off. At least they know not to mess with the police. She suggested that we spray paint "WE HATE YOU" in big letters right across the front wall under the silver letters of our school's name. No one argued her idea, so we grabbed our half full mismatched paint cans from Tiffany's dad's garage and headed out. It was around dusk so we thought no one would be able to see us in the dark by the time we walked to school.

    When we got there, we saw that the place was practically lit up like a carnival! There were too many street lamps and walkway luminaries and lights by every door and window. We knew that any passing car would be able to see us vandalizing from the road. We would never have gotten away with it. I know, Molly, even though our neighborhood is quiet, its not that quiet. We decided not to do it. I never felt so relieved in my whole life.

  We walked around the building to the back side where the fields and playgrounds are. We were just going to walk back to Katie's and hang out for the night. We were going to leave the school alone for a while and try to get Meghan to buy us wine coolers. Her brother just turned twenty-one two weeks ago. That's when she noticed them. Katie stopped and pointed to the port-a-potties in the field right next to the kindergarten's playground. There were three of them lined up, bright blue with white tops, stinking full of waste.

    Katie said that we were going to push them over. So we did. Oh, Molly, I feel so bad for helping those girls tip over those port-a-potties, I just couldn't say no to her. I keep thinking about all the poop spilling out and the urinal cakes on the ceiling and all that smelly wet mess that someone is going to have to clean up. I can't stop imagining all the little kindergarten kids lined up in their classroom ready for recess and then their faces when they smell their foul play place. Maybe they had to play inside, maybe they had to skip recess altogether. All because of us, because of me. Oh, Molly. Do you think I should turn myself in? Do you think they know it was me? Do you forgive me, Molly?

    Please don't tell anyone about this, okay? And Molly, please write back to me. I sure do miss you since you're gone. Things just aren't the same.

                                                      Love,
                                                      Kelly