19IA/N: This is my first real attempt at posting here since my plagiarism issuse… but I've gotten some good con-crit from here, and I feel like I need a reason to keep writing this story. I love it, but my bigger works have kind of taken over. I figure that if I post here, there'll be a reason to keep writing it. I really hope you enjoy, and if you do, please take the time to let me know. Con-crit will earn you cyber cookies. 3
~addy
"Go in peace," Pastor Aiden Merrick finished his sermon poignantly, throwing his arms heavenward with a flourish. His thinning hair stuck to his scalp and sweat beaded on his forehead, a testament to exactly how passionate he was about his career, and the word of God.
I slid out of the pew as the congregation began to buzz with conversation, pulling my skirt down from where it had ridden up during the long service. I could hear the older ladies in the back of the sanctuary begin to whisper as I stepped into the aisle, telling me that I hadn't quite gotten it down to a respectable distance from my knee. But I wasn't going to dance to make them happy – they had my mom and my grandma to do that for them.
"Korynn? A word, please?" I turned to see the pastor following me down the aisle. I jumped, unused to such attention from the man. Most people in South Cale liked to pretend that I didn't exist, and Pastor Merrick had never given me reason to believe that he wasn't one of the many.
"Uhm – sure." I glanced at my mom, who was eyeing us curiously. "Just let me tell my mom I'll be a minute."
Mom was a bigger woman – short and round, with glasses and the beginnings of gray in her hair. She looked like the homely, housewife type, but there wasn't a bigger career woman this side of the equator. Her work hours were insane - I was lucky if I saw her twice a week. But she brought home enough money to keep me in college and to keep Grandma Rose happy, and she decided a long time ago that that's what mattered. "Pastor Merrick wants to talk to me… I'll just be a few minutes," I explained, and mom gave me a curt nod.
"Just hurry, all right? You know your grandmother – she'll want to get home." As usual, we were catering to Grandma's orders. I just shrugged and left, wishing for the millionth time that I had left South Cale for school.
Pastor Merrick and I walked to the back doors of the building before he said anything, so I used the time to analyze him, wondering why he was suddenly showing an interest in me. Nothing seemed unusual – his graying blonde hair was still gelled in place, his green eyes were still always looking past me, as if wondering if he were going to be judged for talking to me. The suit he wore was impeccable; without a single wrinkle or piece of lint. Nothing was different – besides his conversation partner.
"What's up, Pastor Merrick?" I asked, making an effort to sound nonchalant. Admittedly, I was curious and a little worried about whatever it was that he had to say. The last time I'd had a discussion with a pastor, I'd been twelve. It was before Merrick had gotten there, and the guy's name was Pastor Ed. Grandma had wanted him to give me the sex talk and tell me not to lose my virginity until marriage. It had been the most awkward ten minutes of my life. I didn't want a repeat, now or ever.
"I was speaking with your grandmother yesterday," Pastor Merrick began, a sentence that never boded well for me. My grandma was a busybody – everybody had been talking to her about something. "And she mentioned something quite interesting." Again, not a good sign. Anything that my grandma deemed 'interesting' was horrible for the person it was about.
"Oh? About me?" I feigned interest, not really wanting to know.
"She said that you've been doing quite a bit of charity work lately, handling the UCM program at your school," he explained animatedly, looking excited.
It was true –I'd been working for the Underprivileged Children Ministry since USC started it in the fall. I was an English major, so the majority of what I did was publicity and tutoring for the elementary students that came, but I was still considered a counselor.
"Oh, yeah. The UCM is awesome – I don't really do much, though, just help the kids with school work and work on the publicity committee." I didn't want to toot my own horn or anything, but the kids and I got along really well, and I loved each and every one of them. "But – uh…"
"What does that have to do with me?" Pastor Merrick smiled understandingly, finishing my question.
I opened my mouth to respond, but he rushed on nervously, "Well, it's actually a rather personal thing – my son, Aiden, is stationed overseas, in the Army – you know Aiden, don't you?"
I nodded, remembering the young man well. He was only a few years older than me, and had been pretty nice when he was still around. He and a few of his buddies had been some of the few that would talk to me – I'd actually dated one of them, on and off for a while. I had heard a year or so ago that Aydinn had joined the Army, but hadn't got to ask him about it before he disappeared from town. Lucky guy – he got out of SC.
Aiden's father continued, "Well, he and his squad, six of them, all together, are stationed somewhere in the Middle East. They're not allowed to tell us where – they're in some kind of special ops team that requires top level security. But anyway, I was hoping, that since you were a young person, and into some charity work… if you'd consider joining this one." One of his hands dove into his suit pocket and came back out, brandishing a card.
"Letters to Heroes," I read out loud, and then looked back up at my pastor. "You want me to write him and his squad letters?" My head fell to one side as I stared at his face.
"Well – I suppose it doesn't really have to be his squad; there are hundreds of names on the list for the organization. But Aiden's squad is an odd assortment of people, and most of them don't have anyone else to write to. And the one's that do don't want to worry their families with honesty, or have families that don't support the war. Aiden says that a lot of 'em have lost heart… your letters might change that."
I looked at him skeptically, knowing that he was overestimating my abilities, but he rushed on before I could get a word in. "I think it would benefit all involved … please, consider it. You're a very unique girl, and you see things in a way that might relate to some of these boys." His quiet entreaty was highly persuasive, and almost impossible to turn down.
What else could I say but yes? My Pastor, the father of a friend, was asking me to send a few letters to some guys in Iraq – guys that were risking their lives to save ours – to cheer them up. It would take, like, an hour of my time. It wasn't like I had much of a social life, after all; all I had to go home to was my mom's workaholic tendencies, and my grandma's gossip. I might not save their lives, like he seemed to think I would, but I could give it a shot and maybe give them something to laugh over.
"Uh …. Why not?" I said finally, pocketing the card. "Do I need to do anything specific? And where do I get the address to send them? Or is this like an email thing …"
"No, no, letters only. They don't have internet where they are right now. And the way to address the letters is on that card I gave you … and I think there's a number to call if you have any other questions." Pastor Merrick was beaming, apparently happy that I'd agreed to do this.
"Well … ok, then. Thanks." It was pretty clear our conversation was over, and my grandmother was probably getting annoyed with waiting by this point. "Can I go, now?" I shifted my feet impatiently, but didn't just leave. I didn't want to seem rude, not after he had trusted me with this, but my grandma was vicious when annoyed.
"Sure, sure. Thanks again, Korynn … this will mean a lot to those young people." He gave me an awkward hug and let me leave.
I left the building and headed for the parking lot, knowing that Grandma Rose would have insisted on going to the car after her friends had left. She couldn't stand being the last one to leave – something about the message it sent to others. Apparently, if one left too early, you weren't pious enough. If she stayed too late, though, she was just showing off and faking it.
"Are you ready, then?" Sure enough, she was waiting outside the car wrinkled hands on rounded hips angrily. Height-wise, she only reached my chin, but she was still imposing, standing there in her sensible blue skirt suit and orthopedic shoes, each white hair combed into place meticulously.
I didn't answer, just climbed into the backseat, the Letters to Heroes card tucked safely in my pocket. Mom was already in the driver's seat; she looked back and smiled at me as I got in.
The card fell to the floor as I bent over to buckle my seatbelt. Grandma was busy climbing in, though, and was already engaging my mom in an argument over my tardiness and something someone had said after the service, so no one noticed when I reached down and picked it up.
The card had fallen face up, so the address looked back at me. Lt. Caden Bryce, US Army, Middle Eastern Ops. Airmail. Apparently, this Caden Bryce was Aiden's squad's superior officer, and all of my letters would be addressed to him, and then be read by the intended recipient.
"What do you have there, Korynn?" My nosy grandma asked, noticing the card in my hands. "Did Pastor Merrick give it to you?" She craned her upper body around in the passenger seat, trying to get a better look.
For some absurd reason, I didn't want my family to know about my new charity project. They were the only family I had, and I loved them, but I honestly couldn't stand them. And this was something special – something that I was still unsure of how well I'd do at it. It would probably turn out to be nothing, anyway, so what was the point in telling them?
I flicked the card back onto the floor, facedown, and said, "No, grandma. It's just a piece of paper I found in my pocket." I didn't feel bad about lying. In fact, the feeling was rather liberating. Grandma Rose knew everything about my life – even the parts I'd rather she didn't, like my friends and my grades. It felt good to be able to control even this one little thing.
"What did the Pastor want?" Grandma switched tactics, locking eyes with me in the rearview mirror. "Did he have something to say about your mother or me? It wouldn't be the first time he's put a foot out of line with the girls and I, so you need to tell me –"
"He just wanted to congratulate me on winning that poetry contest," I mumbled, shrinking down further into my seat at the lie. "He didn't say anything about anyone." Why did my grandmother always have to assume that everyone was as focused on gossip as she was? All it did was piss me off. I had won a poetry contest at school – not that she knew about it, or cared.
"Mom, leave Korynn alone," My mother finally interrupted, making my head snap towards her. "She's not like everyone else around here- she's intelligent. She has better things to do that gossip about the people in town."
Linda Anderson wasn't the type to stand up to her mother, except where I was concerned. If she was around more, we probably would have been close. As it was, she was never around when I needed her, but I still loved her more than anyone else in this stupid town.
"Excuse me?" My grandma snapped, her bespectacled eyes latching onto Mom's. When she was angry, Grandma Rose was scary, so I didn't blame mom when she backed down and let the older woman turn back to me. "I expect to be notified if anyone says a word about our family. We can't have our names dragged through the mud any further." Your mother has already tarnished our name enough. She didn't actually say it, but Mom and I both heard it.
"Yeah, yeah, Grandma. I'll tell you," I continued on with my fibbing. High school had given me so much practice with hiding gossip and cruelty from the older woman that I barely considered this a lie.
As one of the Town Biddies, Grandma Rose thrived on gossip. She went to club meetings with her girls and talked about other people in the town for hours. She loved gossip, but she could never handle having it turned on her. Mom had ruined that by sleeping with my father and having me out of wedlock – out of a relationship in general. Grandma had never recovered from the embarrassment, and took it out on my mother and me.
Mom had lost all of her confidence and started working long hours, refusing to leave her childhood home for fear of failure. Since she wouldn't leave, I was stuck there, too, because I couldn't leave her. She had given up her life for me; it wasn't fair to leave her to go on with my own.
That's why I attended the University of South Cale instead of Stanford, like I had dreamed of for most of my childhood. It's why I didn't live on campus like my best friend Brielle did, and why I was still a freak at school, even though I should have been moving on to a place where no one knew my back story or cared that I didn't have a father.
I may have been miserable here, with only one friend, my mother, and the characters I made up in the stories I wrote as friends, but I worked damn hard in school. I knew that it was my only way out – the only way both mom and I could leave. If she saw that I was willing to move on – had the means and everything, surely she'd come with me. And then, maybe, finally, we would be happy.
I forgot about Pastor Merrick's request and the card in my pocket for a few days because the school year had heated up the Monday after that church service. The first three days of the week found me up to my ears in school work – literally, during one ill-fated incident involving a torn book bag and my car that won't be mentioned further.
"Korynn, for God's sake, you're caught up!" Brielle bounced up and down on my bed impatiently, staring at me as I put the finishing touches on my Russian History paper. "Come out with me tonight! Aaron asked me to go to that new club – Mojo's or whatever. I can't agree too fast, or go alone, because that would make it a date and make it way to easy for him. You don't want me to lose all my pride, do you? He'd think I'm chasing him and I'd be totally humiliated!" She pouted at me with her huge blue eyes, waiting for me to give in. "Please? Please, please, please?"
Brielle was impossible to resist when she switched into pout mode. Her blonde hair, child-like grin, and huge blue eyes combined with her lithe, curvy body made it unnecessary to even break out the pout when it came to men. I had been around her long enough to not be impressed by anything she threw at me, until she started pulling the puppy eyes.
"You are chasing him, Bri," I whined, already aware that I would be getting ready to go clubbing in a few minutes. "You've wanted Aaron Bradley since we were fourteen." I rolled my eyes and printed my paper, taking my time before turning back to my flabbergasted best friend.
"Korynn!" she squealed, batting at me with her hands. "That's beside the point! If there's no challenge, he'll give up. Come on!" Manicured hands grabbed my forearm and pulled me out of my desk chair and towards my closet. Before I knew it, the fashion hurricane that was Brielle had thrown half of its contents on my bed and the other half on the floor, mumbling "Hell no," or "Eh… maybe… if there's nothing better," before tossing it on the appropriate pile.
I watched bemusedly from my station near the bed, until one of her heels left a dusty print on a white shirt. "Uh, Bri – could you not trample all of my clothes, please? I need something to wear to classes."
As an answer, she tossed one of the low cut shirts I normally wore with an undershirt at me. A second later, a skirt I hadn't worn since the eighth grade followed. "Put them on, and I don't wanna hear you bitch. Yes, I know you think that skirt's too small. And yup, that shirt is cut too low for respectable company. That's the point."
I stared at her. "We've gone clubbing before and I've never had to look that skanky!" I protested, holding the skirt up to my legs to show her how short it would be.
"This is different. We have to be the hottest girls in the club, so I can land Aaron and you can find someone willing to look past the whole 'town outcast' issue. Oh, and I'm borrowing these jeans – they'll look great with my tube top." My favorite pair of pants was clutched against her chest.
With a grin at my reluctant expression, she flounced out the bedroom door so I could dress. "Chop chop, doll. We're leaving in an hour! Leave your hair down!"
Chuckling to myself, I put on the clothes, wondering how I had ended up with a friend as nuts Brielle Montgomery. And I left my hair down, too, to keep her happy. The thick mass hung down my shoulders, the brown wave nearly out of control with static.
My dress coat was the last thing to go on – it was one of those black, hip-length ones with the giant buttons that'd be sure to create a lot of static, and my hair was already crazy enough.
Something white fell out of the pocket as I put my arms into the sleeves, so I leaned down to pick it up. Letters to Heroes jumped out at me, and the memories of Pastor Merrick's suggestions came rushing back. School had totally erased the idea from my mind, but I still wanted to write the letter. I owed it to Aiden, and I was more than curious as to what I could offer the rest of his group.
Carefully, I tucked the card into a picture frame with a photo of my mom and I from when I was about five years old. I looked at that image almost every night before I went to bed – I'd be sure to see the card and remember to write to Aiden's squad if I left it there.
I turned out the light in my bedroom and headed down the stairs half an hour later, casting one last glance at the picture before I shut the door. The letter would be written as soon as I got home that night.
I didn't get home til after two in the morning, but the card was staring at me so hard that I just wiped off the make- up and sat down at my desk, pen and paper in hand. The night had been a fabulous success – Brielle had gotten her man and gone home with him, and I had danced and enjoyed myself, all without the help of a man. Who said I needed someone to hit on me to be happy?
Dear Squad 42A, I began the letter, wondering if that was the right way to address it. I didn't know all the guy's names, or even how many of them there were. Pastor Merrick had mentioned it, but I hadn't really committed the number to memory. He had written the squad number on the back of the card, though, so it seemed the best way to group them all together for now.
That sounds kind of stupid, doesn't it? All formal. I'm not like that, really, but I don't know your names or anything – the squad number's all they gave me. Anyway. Hi! I'm Korynn Anderson, eighteen year old college freshman at USC. I'm an English and Creative Writing major with a Spanish minor, and no, that's not as boring as it sounds. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was little, and the characters I've created are some of my best friends.
Hmm… I go to Aiden's dad's church, but I'm not the most devout Christian, as I'm sure Aiden will tell you. He and I knew each other way back when, before he decided he wanted to go save the world. My friend Brielle and my Pomeranian Dolly are the two most important people in my life, and I do some volunteer work at the local elementary school, tutoring kids.
And I think that's enough of the 'getting to know me' portion of this letter. Sheesh. I'm not that conceited, honest, I just don't want you guys to feel like you're writing to a total stranger, should you decide to write back.
Since I just wrote you a mini biography, I have some questions for you all, too. (If you wanna keep in touch, I mean.) How many of there are you, exactly? How did you all decide to join the Army? Who's waiting for you at home? Oh… and names and ages would be good, too, so I know who to write the letter out to next time. Haha.
I guess that's it for now – I have a big psychology exam that I should be studying for on Friday.
Hope to hear from you soon, and stay safe!
Korynn Anderson , September 21, 2010