I haven’t been writing in a while. Then again, I’ve barely had time to do anything other than work like crazy at the new school. I swear the work load is nearly double than that of Tangerine Middle, or Lake Windsor for that matter. Or maybe its just that since I refuse to join the soccer team, I have nothing else to do with my time except school work. The kids that attend St. Anthonies treat me like I thought they would, with fear and quite a bit of respect. Identical uniforms matching identical petrified expressions.
Some of the younger kids even call me Mr. Fisher, which sounds really odd. People part for me when I walk down the hallway. I’m treated as though I carry and incredibly contagious disease that could spread if everyone doesn’t cower before me. It gets old fast. But enough about that. Erik has been kicked off the football team as of yesterday. Dad had the nerve to look surprised, and even tried to bargain with the coach. It was downright embarrassing. Erik will likely not receive a single scholarship offer. That seems enough punishment for both him and dad.
Arthur on the other hand has been given five years at Juvenile Hall for the murder of Luis Cruz. The phone is ringing. It must be Joey. We’d agreed to meet up and maybe kick a ball around for a bit. We aren’t as close as we once were, but were working towards that. I have to go now. I probably won’t write in here again, unless something major happens. Or something terrible. But I don’t think it will. The Erik Fisher Football Dream has come crashing to an abrupt end, and with it, I believe, have all the secrets and ill wishes in this family. After all, everything must come to an end.