Page 11 of Dear Rosie

It should be fully dark by the time Dad gets back, and all I can do is hope he won’t notice there’s outgoing mail.

Holding my breath, I close the mailbox and wonder how long until Nathan gets it and writes back.

Dear Nathan,

I’m sorry too. I never even asked you how you felt about moving.

And I’m sorry for crying so much. And for not saying goodbye.

I wish I would have asked you for a hug before you left.

A hug would be really nice.

I hope your new house is nice.

If you send me your new phone number, I can call you. But don’t call me. My dad won’t like that.

I miss you.

Your best friend,

Rosie

My fingers tremble as I reach into the mailbox.

I’ve checked it every single day since I mailed my letter to Nathan, getting more and more defeated as each day passes without a response.

But this time, an envelope sticks out from the rest.

It’s the same size as the one I sent him.

It must be…

I drag the rectangle out of the stack of mail.

It’s upside down.

Holding it on either side, I twist it in my fingers until the top side is up.

But it’s not addressedtome. It’s addressedbyme.

UNDELIVERABLE

I blink at the bold red letters stamped across the front of the envelope.

Undeliverable.

No.

Something inside me breaks.

Please no.

I slam the mailbox shut, leaving the other mail there, and sprint back to my house.

It can’t be.

I rush through the front door and up the stairs.

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