ChapterOne
PRETTY GIRLS GET DEATH THREATS
Naomi
“Ithink this is a new record. It’s only your second week on air and you’re already getting fan mail.”
Anne has this way of sneaking up on people, so when I hear her voice behind me, I swivel around in my chair, startled. I think it’s her shoes. They’re too quiet, even on tile. She smiles and waves a letter in her hand.
“I didn’t know meteorologists got fan mail. Should I be concerned?”
“The pretty ones do,” Anne says with a wink. “But, like I said, two weeks is a new record. Let’s hope your new fan doesn’t turn out to be a stalker.”
I take the letter from her and turn the plain white envelope over. My name and the news station’s address are handwritten on it. Anne watches me, not bothering to disguise her anticipation. I slide my finger under the flap and rip it open, tearing the whole envelope in half.
“Use a letter opener,” Anne says. She looks annoyed.
“Who needs a letter opener? My fingers work just fine.”
“You’re going to get a paper cut,” she says.
I don’t care. I shrug. “I’ve always opened letters like this.”
I reach into the torn envelope and pull out a single sheet of folded notebook paper. The letter is handwritten. Short, simple, to the point:
Dear Naomi,
I hope you get struck by lightning and die in the middle of your next weather report. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
—L
I bark out a laugh before I can stop myself. I try to stifle it, but now that it’s out, I can’t stop shaking with laughter. Anne frowns, then snatches the letter to see what’s so funny. I watch through tears as her eyes widen and her face turns red.
“Oh my God,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what this was. I didn’t – are you okay? Why are you laughing?”
I take a deep breath to calm myself down, and then pick up the torn envelope. I’m disappointed to see that there is no return address.
“Where did this come from?”
Anne shakes her head. It’s clear she’s confused by my reaction. “It came in the mail this morning. No return address. Do you know who it is?”
I nod. I can feel the smile creeping back across my lips. “I haven’t heard from this person in two years.”
My responses only serve to confuse Anne more. “Is it a joke? Or do you have a psycho stalker we should know about?”
“It’s a long story. It’s kind of hard to explain.”
Anne pulls a chair from the next desk and sits down. “I have time.”
I stand up, gathering my things. I’m done for the day, and this isn’t a conversation I want all my coworkers to hear. “I was about to head out,” I say. Anne looks disappointed. “Come grab a coffee with me? I’ll tell you all about it.”
* * *
Dear Luca,
I am really excited to be your new pen pal. My teacher says that you live in California. I’ve never met anyone who lives in California before. I think that’s so cool! Do you go to the beach every day? I feel like that’s what I would do if I lived there. You must love it so much.
I live in Oklahoma. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere close to a beach so that I can go any time I want. There isn’t a lot to do in my town, unless you count going to the mall or to the river, which isn’t nearly as nice as the actual ocean.
