The day is going by excruciatingly slow. The clock above the door in my history class is mocking me with its tick-tock, tick-tock. I never heard that clock tick before. My teacher is saying something about the War of 1812, but I could really care less. All I want to do is get to study hall and write the dang letter.

Instead, the bell rings, and it's time for lunch. My basketball team nearly fills the table. Tyler is the biggest and broadest. He's the power forward. There's me, the tallest and quickest, therefore, the team's center and captain. Then there's Koby, Terrance, and Mike. Our team's small forward, shooting guard, and point guard. There are actually twelve players on the team in total but it's the five of us that get the most court time.

Mike and I are the only two white guys out of the twelve of us. Something Tyler likes to tease us about often saying, "Hey what you call two scrawny white guys surrounded by ten ripped black guys... our team."

"Yeah, well you're just jealous I'm the best player on the team. Which is why you're always left looking up to me," I say standing up and towering over him. Tyler was forced to crane his neck back in order to stare me down. Even if we were both standing I'd still have a good 3 inches on him. 

"Ooos!" echo from the surrounding tables.

This goes on throughout the lunch period usually digressing to "White boys can't jump jokes" to my favorite "Your mama jokes" which always ends with me saying something like "You wanna say that to my mama's face?" And Tyler backing off saying, "Hell, no I don't want to spend my life in detention." Our whole table then erupts with laughter.

As much as I enjoy the distraction, I still can't get that letter out of my mind.

"What's up?"

Tyler is sometimes annoyingly perceptive.

For the first time in the history of my friendship with Tyler, I don't want to talk about it. 

"Nothing."

Tyler gets that little crease between his eyebrows and he frowns at me. "Alright."

He knows I am keeping something from him and I have never done that before. I feel guilty but at the same time, there really isn't anything to talk about, at least not yet.

The bell rings I gather my belongings and say, "See you at practice."

To which I receive a dry, "Yeah, see ya."

One more class and then study hall. Can time really go any slower? If it did at this point it be going backward. Finally, the bell rings. Finally, study hall. I ask our moderator for a pass to the Library and he pulls open his desk drawer and hands me one. 

Getting to the Library I find a table in the back to be sure to remain undisturbed. Pulling the paper from my notebook and l lay it out in front of me. Writing this letter had the same feeling as having to write a term paper. I never know where to begin and so much depends on getting it right.

I guess the best way to start is the beginning. I pick up my pen and write:

Dear Brynn,

I cross it out.

Hi Brynn,

Again, I cross it out.

Hey,

"Ugh," I groan before my head hits the table with a loud thud. This earns me a, "Shhh!" from our Librarian.

This is impossible. I pull out yet another piece of paper. Just keep it simple.

Brynn,

Okay, so far so good. "Think, darn you! Think!" I demand of my brain tapping my pen against my temple. Someone on the path to being named class valedictorian ought to be better at this.

I smooth out Brynn's letter and place it next to mine and I notice something. She wrote it one line at a time. Okay, Brynn. Here it goes.

Brynn,

Thank you for the apology but it really is me that should apologize.

I shouldn't have made fun of you or your Magic Eight Ball.

You're right it's not just "a toy" and I can see how valuable it is to you.

Truth is, I'm a little jealous.

I would love sometimes to be able to make a decision without having to think about it.

Plagued with the worries of disappointment and disapproval.

So perhaps I understand, just a little.

And it's not so crazy.

So please accept my apology.

For what it's worth...

You seem like a pretty exceptional girl.

Sincerely, 

Finn Nash

After reading the letter about half a dozen times I realized it was as good as it was going to get, but wanted to add one more special touch.

I approach our Librarian. "Mrs. Moore, do you have a book on origami?"

It only took about thirty tries. Thankfully I was smart enough to practice on a different piece of paper, which is now a mangled mess, but Brynn's letter was folded to perfection. I intended on giving the book back to Mrs. Moore to put away but decided to check it out instead. Maybe it was my overly optimistic self, hoping I would have a reason to use it again, or maybe I just made my third random decision of the day. I've decided I like origami.

Stamping my book with a return date, Mrs. Moore handed it to me and the bell rang. It was off to my last class of the day before practice. Now I have to face an even bigger problem. How am I going to give Brynn this letter?

As the end of the day approached and I dressed in our locker room for practice, I thought it was time to get my best friend involved.

After I told him about Brynn's letter and the one that I wrote, Tyler sat back and studied me. "You're hopeless you know that right?"

The excitement I felt of getting the letter to Brynn had been sucked out of me with those words. Was I really being foolish? Was it really that horrible of an idea? It's not like I was asking her out or anything, just looking to maybe make a friend. Is that so bad? So, wrong?

"Oh Lord, not the lost puppy look. Anything but that?" Tyler groaned.

I didn't even know I had a "lost puppy look".

"Okay, It obviously means a lot to you so I'll help you get that letter to Brynn."

Excitement flooded my whole body again. It felt almost like it did when I accidentally zapped myself with a small electric current in Chemistry class only more tingly. Brynn is going to get my letter but again, "How?"