“That’s dark,” Anne says. “But he definitely wrote worse things to you.”
She gestures to the letters we read together on the way to San Diego. There are multiple letters where he described in detail how he hoped I would die. My letter was hardly the first death threat either of us sent.
Without another word, I hand her the letter that Luca wrote in response.
Dear Naomi,
I bet you didn’t know that every letter you send to me is read by the drill instructors before I’m allowed to read it. They have to make sure that none of us are spies or terrorists. Anyway, they read your letter and questioned me for hours about why you want my head to get blown off. Long story short: the department of homeland security got involved, and you are now on the terrorist watchlist. You will never be able to get a government job, and you will never be able to fly without a full cavity search. So, congratulations on screwing up your whole life with one letter. I bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?
Good thing you got into college already, because they probably wouldn’t have let you in if they saw this on your record. What are you going to study? My guess is the weather since it seems like that’s all you know how to talk about.
Love,
Luca
Anne finishes reading the letter, then frowns at me. “This is why you were scared to fly?”
I nod. I have never told anyone else about this letter. I thought that the fewer people who knew I was being investigated by homeland security, the better.
“You thought TSA was going to make you strip down and check your butthole for weapons?”
I stare at her, watching as her frown lines gradually fade and she bursts out laughing.
“It’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is,” she says.
“No, it’s not. You don’t know what it’s like having to be careful about what I say over the phone, knowing that the government is probably listening. And constantly having to wonder if and when I’m going to be brought in for questioning.”
“Wait. You’re serious?”
I glare at her.
“You’re not on the terrorist watchlist,” she says.
I shush her and look around, hoping that we’re not drawing too much attention. “You don’t know that.”
“Naomi.” She takes a deep breath like she’s gathering her patience. “The station did a full background check on you before we hired you. Something like that would have come up.”
“But this letter,” I say, holding it up. The corner of her mouth creeps up, and before I can continue what I’m about to say, I realize what’s happening. “He was fucking with me. Wasn’t he?”
“Just like all the other letters,” she says.
I look at the letter again, skimming over it with angry fascination. “Holy shit,” I say. I throw the letter to the floor. “All these years of writing to each other and one-upping each other. All these years and I didn’t realize that he had already won. It didn’t matter how mean I was because I was never going to win. Not after I fell for that stupid shit.”
I can tell that Anne is holding back laughter. I roll my eyes. She bends over and picks up the letter, tucking it back into the stack inside the folder.
“It could have happened to anyone,” she says. Her tone isn’t very reassuring.
“I had a full-blown panic attack when I bought the plane ticket. I’ve never flown because I was terrified of going to jail just for trying to get on a plane. I’ve driven thousands of miles just to avoid stepping into an airport. And I nearly passed out several times going through security last night and just now.”
“Yep. He won, all right,” Anne agrees.
“Thanks.”
“But you’re going to win the next round.”
“How?”
