The Gazebo - 2019-20

GAZEBO 2019-2020

To the Class of 2020 of La Salle College High School The Gazebo is now as it always has been the nexus for artistic expression for La Salle's overwhelmingly creative and talented student body. This edition, while it is still dedicated to the expressive potential in all art, is different:

THIS EDITION IS FOR YOU

Amidst the setbacks, separation, and silence that have marked these past weeks the Gazebo staff wanted to offer the class of 2020, by whom the setbacks, separation, and silence were felt most deeply, the knowledge and comfort in knowing that we hear you.

When the thought of getting off school first popped into my mind, I was excited.

I thought we would get a nice week off school and then things would be back to normal. I did not expect this to last as long as it has now. We are in the eighth week of this, and ever since week one, I have been missing La Salle. I miss seeing my classmates and my teachers, I miss going to the library every morning to do homework with my friends. I have made some lifelong friends at La Salle that I will never forget.

As this situation drags on, I have become more appreciative of everything that I have. I know that some families are going through some really tough times right now. However, getting to go to class every day to talk with our teachers and classmates has brought back some of the normal routine. My typical day involves getting up for school in the morning, finishing my homework, trying to go outside and play some sports with my brother for about an hour. Then I play some Xbox and go to bed. Trying to keep this routine is hard because it is so easy to feel down and sad about this situation. However, I am trying focus on the good things. One of the good things is that my brother is home. Without this outbreak, he would still be at school. I appreciate the opportunity to spend time with him while I can.

John Weber

Life has obviously been way different ever since the beginning of quarantine. I think I speak for everyone when I say that life hasn’t been the same. Yeah, most of quarantine has been negative vibes and loneliness, but I began to see a new perspective on life. Through the lens of virtual learning and Blackboard Collaborate class sessions, I found this new method of learning very fascinating; it was almost like a new challenge to me. I believe the online classrooms to be unique and at sometimes amusing. Being able to sign into my Creative Writing class session while lying in bed wearing pajamas was a whole new experience. Since I was never home-schooled, this whole virtual learning environment was totally new to me.

While attending class lying in my bed is fun and all, not being able to see my friends face-to-face has hit hard lately. Seeing my friends at the corner of my computer screen isn’t the same as hanging out with them in person; that’s just the truth, honestly. On the bright side, I’ve been able to bond with my family much more now. We’ve been able to play board games, try viral challenges, and even give each other haircuts. All these fun adventures have brought out the good in a dark situation like this. Short story short, there’s been a lot more good in this pandemic than I initially expected.

Matteo Barila

Matthew Spinelli

Quarantine. Who would have ever thought that this is what the end of our high school careers would be like? As seniors, we have grown through these four years while hoping that we would be able to experience what the past classes had. Instead, we were thrown a serious curve ball in what feels like the bottom of the 9th inning of the game. However, challenging this has been, the light for me has been the way that I’ve seen our class carry on is unlike anything I’ve seen before. Whether it be weekly senior band class meetings, sport team workouts over zoom or weekly check-ins with clubs. We as a school have adapted our day to day school day into something that nobody else is doing around us.

For the seniors, this has been some of the hardest times in our lives. We’ve been eagerly awaiting these specific times to shine. Whether it be your final chance to get a championship, last theater production, last competition, last concert, senior nights, last Kairos, graduation, prom, or senior week, we are all worried and somewhat terrified of what these precious events will end up looking like.Right now, we are unsure of what we can do and how it can be fixed. All we can do is hope and pray and know that God has a plan for us.

Everything happens for a specific reason. All of us miss each other and we miss the people who make LaSalle the home that it has become for us. Being stuck at home this past two months has been hard, but I’ve also been able to see it as a small gift. I get the chance to spend more time with my family before I go to college in the fall. I get to go out in my back yard and have a catch with my brother. If this pandemic didn’t happen, I could bet on us never having that memory that we will now get to hold forever.

Underclassmen, I know that this isn’t what you guys expected your years of high school to be, but I wanted to leave you with some advice. Let this pandemic teach you something. Let it be a reminder that your La Salle brothers are going to be there for you no matter what. Cherish these moments that you have with your family and your brothers. You never know what could happen next.

Jack Lawler

TABLE OF CONTENTS LITERATURE

"Faint Waves" Page 1 Mr. Michael A. O'Toole (Principal) "All in Good Time" Page 2 Dylan Chandler '21 "Aurora" Page 2 Alex Wu '21 "Drop Down" Page 3 Christian Wang '21 "The Abyss" Page 4 Justin Machita '21 "The Pandemic & The Cure" Page 5-9 Dillon Trainer '20 "Man on the Moon" Page 10 Simon Karr '21 "The Mind Wanders" Page 10 Mason Branch '21 "The Grey Area" Page 11 Liam Gross '21 "Memphis" Page 11 Jake Whitlinger '21 "Fallen Dreams" Page 12 Dillon Trainer '20 "An Opening" Page 13-16 Tommy Dalfo '21 "Death's Hand" Page 17 Duncan MacDonald '21 "Hold Back" Page 17 EJ Whitaker '21 "Growing Up" Page 18 Kevin Pritchett '22 "Weeds" (Statement Magazine) Page 19 Mr. John A. Mills '12

ART & PHOTOGRAPHY Front Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 17 Page 18 Back

James Guerin '21 James Guerin '21 Teddy Harrison '22 James Guerin '21 James Guerin '21 Kevin Pritchett '22 Kevin Pritchett '22 Teddy Harrison '22 Kevin Pritchett '22 Nicholas Toriello '23

QR CODES Dedication Gazebo Staff Page 1 Page 5 Page 13

WEXP LSCHS Guardian Angel Fund Cast of LSCHS "A Chorus Line" LSCHS Band Cast of Broadway Wishes

Social Distance Special 01 Goal: 1,080 donations "What I Did For Love" Alma Mater "Seasons of Love"

GAZEBO STAFF STUDENT OFFICERS

Michael Tracey '21

Editorial Director

EJ Whitaker '21

Editorial Director

Ethan McBride '21

Editor

Jeffrey Wilson '21

Editor

Tommy Dalfo '21

Editor

Patrick Ryan '23

Editor

Louis DiPede '21

Creative Director

Taj Jacobs '21

Creative Director

Kevin Pritchett '22

Photography Editor

Teddy Harrison '22

Photography Editor

James Guerin '21

Art Director

FACULTY MODERATORS Mr. John Mills

Ms. Cheryl Wolgamott

Faint Waves

Handshakes then side-kisses withered.

New movements to master Kinsa once, Kinsa twice 97.7, 97.9.

Safe for this day when clever pirouettes practiced perfected to push, pass and perhaps protect the hands

cleanly through outer middle inner front side rear even doors which

in to a w a v e

Aurora

The collapsing anger simmered down to nothing I chose to filter my thoughts-We hardly get along social lives part us--

Crowded street People walk around no one disturbs the silence.

Nothing that happens makes sense I don't know how I will fare I'm thinking of how to make it better without-Leaving soon, things will change

By the edge of the city a young girl sits on the cliff to watch the whales dancing in the sea.

Selfish, mean-hearted things go to waste when a good deed is done-All of a sudden we are children again Gone with no hesitation making something out of nothing Better things will come All in good time

All in Good Time

Sun drops like bleeding, colored the sea red.

Just like words, beautiful and dangerous.

Far across the sea Aurora high above the island same as the dance of the Goddess reflected by the ice, creates a feeling of unreal.

I always think about the silent house but noisy with Jazz and Rock music Lightness and darkness shine extremely take place in different rooms however they were reflections as light to dark, dark to light The heaven and hill were both calling them How can these opposite things occur in the same world?

Can rose and blood be the same red?

With different meanings one means life and rebirth one means death and fear The glass full of coffee was dropped down from the scorching fire but the stone; icy I look down and pick them up as I pick broken pieces up with my thumb the second finger of my left hand The star was burnt and fell down from the galaxy into the deep ocean where I couldn't hear couldn't see anymore

Drop Down

The Abyss It smelled like Grandma's house quite frankly it still kind of does I didn't know why we were thereit was loud but not intrusive to us As day turned to night I lay there peacefully in the high grass It was cold but I didn't feel itthen it started moving probably faster than we thought but at that point we had lost all feeling

What is the point of anything if we can't do everything?

Minds were racing, but to where?

I didn't search for answers, they found me It wasn't a dream because no one could dream that big.

The Pandemic & the Cure (a short story) Two weeks ago, everything was normal. I was going to school every day, hanging out with my friends on the weekends, and life was just the way it always was. Nobody seemed uber happy or sad, but the world just passed by as it always did. The sun rose and set, and during the hours that it illuminated the sky, people around the world went about their everyday lives, not realizing how quickly it would soon be taken away.

I woke up one Wednesday morning and followed my normal routine. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and headed downstairs for some breakfast.

Halfway down the stairs, the smell of bacon and my usual buttered bagel from the kitchen filled my nose. I said hello to my mother who so graciously prepares this breakfast for me every day. When I sat down though, my heart sank, along with my mother’s. As we heard the news, we just stared blankly at the small television in our kitchen and turned up the volume to make sure we actually understood what we heard. Seemingly overnight, six people were killed by this mysterious disease. Nobody really had any answers for what was happening, and everyone was just as confused as the people next to them.

Concerned, but not too worried, I soon hustled out the door and hopped into my car to head to school.

By the time I got to homeroom, things got even worse. My friend, Jake, showed me an alert on his phone. It was from CNN and headlined, “8 More Victims Killed by Mysterious Virus – Scientists and Doctors Still Have No Cure.” My palms began to sweat, and I caught myself unintentionally muttering a short prayer under my breath. I instantly developed some feeling in my stomach, a feeling of dread because I knew this was going to be bad.

The days passed and this sickness only got worse. It now had a name: COVID-19, otherwise known as Coronavirus. It felt good knowing that progress was being made, but no cure was found yet, and there was now talk of them having to close down school for a couple days, maybe even weeks. A new unsettling feeling sunk in across not only the country, but the world. The death toll reached over 500 globally and I knew something wasn’t right. So, I made up my mind. I texted my friend Jake and told him to come over as soon as he got home from school.

Jake arrived at my house at around 3:00. I hadn’t told him what I needed to talk to him about, so he seemed a bit uneasy when he made his way into my living room. He took a seat on the couch and I told him where I thought this whole Coronavirus thing was heading.

“Your uncle Bill is in the CIA, right?” I asked. Jake was taken aback by this question.

Hesitantly, he responded, “Yeah …why?”

I told him that we needed his uncle’s help, and fast. I thought that this whole virus thing was getting sketchy and something inside of me kept telling me that there was more to it than people realized; something sneaky was happening within the government.

Jake left after a couple rounds of Call of Duty on my Xbox and I carried on with my Friday evening. Things changed when my phone rang at around one-thirty in the morning. I saw it was Jake with some crazy news. I picked up ,still half asleep, and he said, “Dillon, I’m with my uncle. I can’t say much over the phone but we’re coming to pick you up. It’s important.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead. I didn’t have time to ask any questions, so I got out of bed, grabbed my jacket, and sneaked out the door.

Before I went, though, I left a note for my parents in case I wasn’t back by the time they woke up. I told them I was going fishing for the day and probably wouldn’t be home until late that Saturday night. The way this was unfolding, who knew what we were getting into and how long it would take?

Five minutes passed as I waited in my driveway for Uncle Billy. Another news alert popped up on my phone: 1500 people dead. The uneasiness kept growing. Uncle Billy’s black Jeep pulled up to my driveway and I hopped in.

Jake, in the front seat, looked startled and I knew something was up. Uncle Billy looked at me through the rear view mirror and said, “So, you’re the one with the conspiracy about the government?” I was rattled and I couldn’t get out many words.

Then he turned around, looked at me directly in the eyes, and said, “Well, you’re right.”

I questioned what he meant but then the pieces fell into place. He told me that the government had the cure, but they weren’t sharing it with the nation because they thought the sickness might help control the population. The overpopulation of the globe had led world leaders to devise methods of reining in the earth’s population. The way the U.S. saw it, the pandemic was a natural opportunity to do just that.

This enraged and confused me. I couldn’t help but ask why the government would even do this, and Uncle Billy had no idea. Logically it made sense, but the morality of the actions were horrid to me. They had the cure, but they kept it a secret. Instantly, I directed my mind to what we were doing in that moment.

“So why did you pick me up?” I asked.

“Well why do you think? The three of us are the only ones who can get to the bottom of this. We’re headed to the root of the evil: The United States Chemical Research Facility.”

I immediately felt as if I was in some sort of movie. We were going to break into a government building, steal a bunch of medicine, and save the world. The drive took two hours and we arrived before sunrise. Jake and Uncle Billy mapped out the entire plan. Uncle Billy had his CIA identity badge. He and Jake brought disguises for us and we were disguised as interns. My heart began to race through my chest as I approached the front gates. Three men holding guns and armored head-to-toe guarded the gate.

They scanned our identification badges and we were on our way inside. The real obstacles didn’t arrive until we got to the basement – the laboratory. As we sneaked through the hallways, men and women in white lab coats filled the rooms. My nerves began to intensify exponentially as I realized the severity of the plan that was about to unfold. Uncle Billy pulled us aside into the control room, where all the ventilation and light systems were located. He then took three pens out of his pocket and clicked them as he threw one into each vent system. These clearly weren’t average pens. They were actually filled with nitrous-oxide gas that would knock out the scientists working inside.

The door opened suddenly behind us, and there stood three guards, two of whom had pistols pointed at us. The third hit an alarm on the wall and a siren began to squeal throughout the building. My heart dropped. Out of nowhere, Uncle Billy kicked one of the guards in the face, knocking him out cold. We found ourselves in a fight with the remaining two guards. I managed to punch the hand of one of the pistol-wielding guards and draw his weapon free of his grip. As Jake took out the final guard, we realized we were now being hunted by laboratory personnel. With time running out, we busted into a laboratory that read “DANGER! Authorized Personnel Only!”

We all knew this had to be the room where the medicine was kept.

We pried open the vault and grabbed as many test tubes of medicine that we could. As we left the room and entered the hallway to leave, dozens of other guards streamed down the stairs, weapons aimed at us. I thought we had a plan, but when I saw Uncle Billy raise his arms above his head and drop to his knees, I realized we truly had no escape. The guards approached us but didn’t fire. In fact, the opposite happened.

“On your feet,” one of the guards said. “We are aware you know about the cure. So, we will make a deal with you. We will let you go, and you can take the medicine with you. But you cannot ever let a soul know about this secret.

The United States government doesn’t really need this type of scandal at the moment, does it? Do we have a deal?” All three of us shook our heads rapidly.

So, the guards guided us out of the facility, and we made our way back to the Jeep with 57 tubes of Coronavirus medicine. Each tube could vaccinate 500,000 people and we were certain we just saved the world. As we drove off, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Now there was just one job left to do: disperse the medicine for the world’s use. We headed over to Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia and left the tubes on the front desk. Not a word was said, but we left an anonymous note reading, “The crisis is over. Here is the cure. Test it immediately.” We then drove away and waited for the world to be restored once more and not a word about it was spoken between us ever again.

Man on the Moon Leaving the candy shop walking up a wide spiraled rampdropping fuzz on people's heads from stories highplanetarium with a dentist's chair Orion and his nebula the Pleiades are so shiny the man on the moon wants his painting he is so lonely with nobody else with himfireworks factory purple cars candy rockets cows crossing the roadflying to the moon butterflies, space mice landing on the moon alien city moon crystals moon cafĂŠ

The soul is everlasting The heart takes form down here or perhaps up here Where is the question but also how?

Jump with joy or pout in sorrow Eyes watch, someone or something watches In control or controlled Why do these thoughts take over?

Let me go, this isn't where I belong The great unknown is not so great Take me back This isn't reality, or is it?

I was dreaming?

Stuck in this loop that seems unbreakable I want it to stop Someone needs to help me but nobody can We're all stuck in this together Is there an end?

Is there even a beginning?

The Mind Wanders

The Grey Area Black and white make grey The grey area is made from black and white The grey area is where we mix and match the things around us Without the grey space things would be too defined Without confusion in the grey, life would have no purpose The grey area is where we stay The grey is where our mistakes lay In the grey is where we learn

Altered universethey want to see what comes out best It's a game They don't tell us about the restOrange and yellow are seen as hotGoblins are seen to be greenWhat will the future see us as?

Can a fridge be seen as a garden because it can grow mold?

Can bread be seen as one, also, once it becomes very old?

Memories every second but gone forever once death comesthis isn't Memphisbut I have considered hunting.

Memphis

A cowboy is what I wanted to be from the day I was born until around three.

That's when things began to fall just like my dreams since the days I would crawl.

I crept to the basement, my imagination lab, and slid those two bar stools across the tile slab.

I went to the carpet and threw over a sheet; a cowboy needs a horse and now I had one at my feet.

The costume was ready, I felt in a trance; I threw on my my hat and my cowboy pants.

But on this day, something wasn't right.

I fell off my horse and it filled me with fright.

Down I tumbled, my chin hit the stool.

I panicked as my blood started to pool.

I ran up the stairs and cried to my mother.

She said everything was okay and I hugged her.

We went to the doctor, my mom rushed me in.

He told me I needed two stitches on my chin.

It all turned out fine, Mom said I was tough.

But as far as horses go, I think I've had enough.

Fallen Dreams

An Opening (a short story)

The weary nurse led me down the narrow corridor, past one cramped ward after another. The hospital was quiet, save for the buzzing of its flickering lights, the racking coughs of the patients, and the echoing rhythm of our footsteps in the hall. She stopped in front of another faded blue door and pulled out a ring of keys. “Look,” she turned to me, “I’ll be up front with you.

We’ve had difficulty getting this one to cooperate or even accept treatment.”

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, “Sometimes people get strange at the end, develop odd obsessions, that sorta thing. They fixate on anything to get their minds away from what’s coming.” She sighed. “So if he’s too much don’t feel obligated to stay, alright?”

I nodded and cleared my throat, slightly off put by the warning but grateful nonetheless, “Thanks, I ‘preciate the heads up.”

She nodded curtly and opened the door for me before briskly departing to attend to other business.

I sighed, the poor man was clearly falling apart at the end and I pitied him. I reached out and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright; we can get you help,” I soothed the weeping old man.

“I’m sorry but I really don’t think I can bring gas into a hospital, sir.” He lunged forward, snatching my wrist with a speed I didn’t think his frail form was capable of. “Please,” he shouted, eyes bulging and wild, “fire’s the only way!”

I’d barely crossed the threshold when the smell hit my nose, a faint stench of mildew and that particular miasma of decay and dust that hangs in the air around the elderly. “I already told you people, if you’re getting the gas, I don’t want anything,” rose a muffled and rasping voice from beneath the huddled mass of unwashed blankets piled on the hospital cot.

“Oh no sir,” I began, “I’m not an orderly, I’m a visitor. I volunteer visiting the dyuh, sick.” I winced at the slip up.

The old man rolled over in his bed, squinting at me with sunken blue eyes. “Is that so?” he asked. “Well truth be told I could use a visitor.”

I smiled at that; sometimes all these poor souls need is a fresh and friendly face. I opened my mouth to properly introduce myself, but the old man cut me off. “Say,” he said with sudden intensity, “could you get me something? Humor the nostalgia of an old geezer?”

He leaned towards me as he spoke, and the covers slipped off of this arm, revealing a set of handcuffs restraining him to the bed. “Sure,” I replied, “what d’ya want?”

The dying man smiled ferociously. There was something disquieting in his expression. “Gasoline,” he said with a shiver. “The smell reminds me of my days as a driver.” Taken aback by his request I politely denied him.

Shocked, I tried to wrest my wrist from him, but his grip was as strong as iron.

“Get your hands off me,” I cried hoping the nurse might hear the struggle.

“No!” His grip tightened painfully, and he yanked me close enough to see the shadows cast across his gaunt face by his jagged cheekbones. “You don’t understand what’s happening! Did you know the doctors don’t have a clue what’s killing me?” he asked, eyes alight with a desperate terror.

“Oh but I know,” he continued, his scratchy frantic voice rising in volume, “there’s something wrong with me, but not my body, in my head.” The man’s face slackened suddenly, and he slumped over in the bed, releasing his stranglehold on my forearm.

“It’s asleep for now,” he whispered, “but it’s waking up soon.”

The panicked intensity crept back into his voice, “It’s using me, the same way a parasite drains its host.” He shuddered, and I knew it wasn’t from the cold.

When I die it’ll come through, from whatever nightmare it resides in.” A jagged grin split his face as he spoke. “I’m not a person anymore. Did you know that?

Could you tell? It changed me,” he said, his voice thick with horror.

“It’s almost done, almost finished turning me. And when it’s done? When I die?” the old man’s hands shook, tears streamed down his terrified face as he continued his hysterical explanation. “It’ll open me up like a door. And who knows what it’ll do once it’s here.” He let out hysterical, broken laughter between sobs.

The man looked up, his watery, hopeless gaze meeting mine. I opened my mouth to comfort him further, but the words caught in my throat. It looked like something was moving behind his eyes. I glanced over my shoulder, searching for the movement’s source, but found nothing. Turning back to the man, I saw it was still there, trapped behind his fearful stare. It slithered within his eyes, shifting and coiling around itself. I stared, transfixed at the writhing blackness in his pupils. It was as if shadow or smoke had formed in the reflection of his eyes.

“Slowly his pupils began to dilate, growing larger and larger until they started to overtake the blue in his eyes. The old man stiffened and clenched his fists on the rails of the bed, letting out a low pained groan as his pupils expanded past their physical limits. I stared, horrified, at the unnatural transformation until the blackness filled the entirety of his bulging eyes. “Oh my god, I- I’m gonna go get a nurse,” I stammered as I stood. The man cried out in agony and arched his back.

The thing in his eyes was writhing and squirming rapidly, moving ever faster as the old man’s hoarse screams rose. My breath quickened and my heart pounded. Suddenly it stopped, and the man collapsed into the mattress, gasping ragged gulps of air. He turned to me shakily, staring with blinded eyes no longer his own. The skin around his cheek bulged as something slid across his face below his skin. My hair stood on end, my heart pounded against my ribs, and my skin crawled as if it wanted to pull itself from my bones. There was no denying that the lunacy the old man had spewed was at least partially true. He sat up in the bed with great difficulty. “Please,” he begged in a hoarse and trembling whisper, “Fire. Incinerate it completely.” I stood shakily, my vision swimming and my mind reeling from what I’d witnessed. I stumbled to the door and turned back to the thing that was the old man. “So,” I began, my voice cracking, “where’s the nearest gas station?”

Death's Hand Tiptoe the life of death's lonely hand.

It welcomes.

It welcomes you but not at the wrong time.

Right time.

Left.

Right.

You can't form the appreciation of death's hand but slowly it comes.

Much concerns Death.

Death has a science but science is the death.

Thought.

Free.

Science is the death of free thought.

“Hold back,” he says to himself, “It's not the right time, “it’ll never work.”

He says, “Hold back.”

He wanted to tell her“Hold back.”

He wanted to say, "You are beaut-" “Hold back.”

He knows the truth.

“Hold back.”

He feels his potential.

“Hold back.”

Freedom is within his power “Hold back.”

All you need to do is“Hold back...”

Hold Back

Growing Up

Growing up is analogous to a mountain climber struggling to reach the top of a peak, just to get a glimpse of the world around him. Imagine you’re that climber, and at the start of your expedition, you look up and all you see is jagged earth reaching towards the sky. You start the laborious task of climbing up the mountain. The higher you climb, the more you can observe around you and the more you grow to understand the world below you. Your knowledge and wisdom increase as well. You stumble and fall a little, but it’s not the failures that matter, it’s the progress, inch by arduous inch. Maybe you try to find a new route, or attempt the path you already stumbled on again. You climb on. That route you fell on is now easier to climb as you’ve been there before.

Finally, you reach the peak. After all that climbing, you feel proud and accomplished. You glance down below and realize all of the accomplishments you’ve made, progress you earned, and all the struggles you overcame. You look out across the vast horizon and see all of the world below you rolled out like a carpet.

You observe, too, countless other mountains, some tall, some short, some steep, some slanted; but each distinct and each with a climber, like you. Some will go reach the top faster than you did, while others will give up half way.

Some may falter low in the foothills and climb no farther. There is no guarantee your climb will be easy, but wouldn't you rather attempt your own mountain than only see it from its base?

Yellow is my favorite color now because it’s your favorite color now or maybe it was always yellow because you aren’t like the other girls who all like pink.

I hate pink, but yellow is pretty.

But I wanted you to know that I like yellow now and that I think that means I like you now, because we both like yellow, so I gave you my Dandelion Crayon.

It’s my favorite, but you can keep it if you want.

My daddy made me try baseball and I’m no good at throwing or catching, but I found all these little yellow flowers and I thought about you and about the crayon— do you remember that? I do.

Mommy said they were weeds but I don’t care.

Dandy Lions: that’s what Daddy said they were called and I believe it because he knows plants and they look like happy little lions.

I think that’s pretty funny.

I think you’re funny, too, and pretty like yellow.

It probably wasn’t my greatest idea, but I drew you this— you’re going to laugh and, like, that’s fine—but it’s a picture of a, like, Dandy Lion? you can trash it.

Mikey said it was lame. Was it?

I did it for you because, like, I like you and people who like each other do stuff like that for the people they like and so I really hope you like me, too.

I’d rather have you than them, anyways.

Your friends were a little confused when you insisted that the bridesmaids all wear yellow, and every table featured a vase of dandelions.

They all said they were weeds, but we don’t care.

Weeds