If we did a survey at St. Philomena Girls High School, most students would say they prefer Saturday to Sunday. Only their reasons would be different. Some would say it's because Saturday is Movie night, and some would say Saturday is the day for entertainment. We did watch TV for a whole day on Saturday, and from 7 pm to 10 pm, we'd watch a movie.
Personally I preferred Saturday because I'd sleep late and wake up late for it'll be Sunday. But others like Saturday because that's when the mailman came. We had no phones, so letters were our way of communication. We'd write to our families and friends back home, and to make it even spicier, some would send letters to their boyfriends in a neighboring all boys boarding school. Teachers were too busy to read our stupid letters so they let us have fun.
Ylle rushed into their room with a bunch of letters in her hands. She was excited and panting. Everyone was eager to see if they got something.
"I have 2 letters for River.", said Ylle as she handed them to her, "One for Cora, 2 for Helzeny and Zydal, one for Winslow, one for me, one for Lessin and wow! 7 for Freya!".
They all exclaimed in sync. Not surprising. Of course guys would kill to just get their letters delivered to her. Freya spread the letters on her bed like tarot cards. She was excited as she read the names of the senders out loud.
"Justin, I'm not going to read his letter.", she tore it in half and put it aside, "I'll read Khalid's and Festo's, but later. Allan, no. Tommy, no.",
Nobody paid much heed to her sass. They all ripped their letters open and read them with so much imaginations and delusions. A short while later, Freya startled them with a tantrum. She angrily grabbed all the letters and ripped them to shreds. She carried the hopeless pieces to the bin and threw them in, forever.
She stood there, agitated, hands on her waist.
"What's wrong?", asked River, giving Freya the luxury of explaining her frustrations.
"I just wanted one letter, from one person.", she told everybody, "But I didn't get it.",
"Who?", Winslow asked.
"Christopher Vanguard.", she uttered his name with a burning passion, "I wrote to him last week. He's supposed to write me back!",
"Maybe he did.", River tried to find reasoning.
"If he did, where is it? Ugh, I fucking hate this!".
They were used to her being dramatic for no reason. But this time she didn't make something up. Christopher Vanguard had indeed written a letter and sent it to St. Philomena Girls High School. But that letter wasn't dedicated to Freya Thing. It was currently hidden under the pillow of Cora Saunders.
…
You see, a few years later, I attended a big funeral. What previously was 8 was now 7. And amongst those 7 miserably sad faces, one was guilty of putting the 8th in the casket.
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