Tomorrow, my arm could blow out. Or my knee could give or the ligaments rip or a thousand other things.

But tomorrow, I'd still be the guy who pitched Stoneybrook High to its first state baseball title. I'd still be the guy who had a 0.31 ERA and set a state record for scoreless innings pitched. I'd still be the MVP of the playoffs, all of it. And I know that doesn't matter, or it shouldn't, but it does to me. I was watching film of myself from when I was in short pants, I have worked my ass off to get here. I mean, I can be the best boyfriend in the world or the best brother in the world, the best son, and bad shit still happens to Annie and Hunt and my parents still have Loud Talks. And sometimes, no matter how hard I work out, we'll lose.

But not last night. Last night, it all worked out, and I'll always have that.

And it was pretty fucking sweet, y'all.

I don't know what to say. I've written and erased something here about a thousand times.

The second time that Annie--tried, I couldn't write in this for days. I couldn't sleep, I was having trouble eating, but I couldn't write it down. It's like that. I can't remember when I stopped closing my eyes and saw her dead, I don't know how long it took.

I close my eyes, and I see Huntie on the floor, shuddering like he was being electrocuted. But what's worse than that is the times I close my eyes, and he's on the floor and he's not moving. The more I read about lupus, the more I see that. How horrible am I to rather see him like he was last night because if I don't, I see him--

I thought it would be better to know what was wrong with Hunt. I thought it would help.

I don't know what to think anymore.

On one hand, Pete was one of my first friends here in Stoneybrook. We don't talk much anymore because I'm, ya know, busy with sports and then just getting shit done and we don't hang in the same circle, I know that if I was ever in a jam, I could turn to him. He knows my family, my fam knows him.

On the other, Melissa's been nothing but nice and helpful since I got elected Senator: she's--uh, quirky, but she's fucking awesome at her job.

Pete bitches about how the Council doesn't care. A lot. It's fucking annoying to hear how he's told someone else how he's the only person who cares, when, you know, not only have I been busting ass on top of three varsity sports and having pneumonia and--well, yeah, and when everybody with eyes knows how hard Annie works--I don't know. It's a dick thing to say. And untrue. And I'm pretty much over him pulling that crap.

Melissa's really quirky when she's not working. To the point of "what the fuck" sometimes.

Pete hasn't really created any programming: Melissa has.

Melissa's never led a Council: Pete has.

The move Pete pulled with punching Bruce still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And Annie doesn't know if he's trustworthy. I guess I don't know, either. Fuck it, I just need to talk to him about it, because it's pretty bad when you don't know if you can trust someone anymore. Maybe today--well, no, not today, I gotta work today. Gross.

I don't know Melissa at all.

Pete's been a dick and a martyr. Melissa's a spaz. Pete's been doing a good job now for four years. Melissa kicks serious ass at hers.

Who do I vote for? Who do I support? I'm not naive, I know that if I say, "Vote for Pete" or "Vote for Liss" people will listen to me. Some people--but people who other people listen to. I knock over a shitload of dominoes. I think I'm gonna tell Melissa that I need time to think; I just wish I knew what to think.

Or who.

I pitched a perfect game tonight. I--don't know if I have words for this feeling; I started to zone after the first inning, I just clicked right on in, and it was like there was nothing in the world that existed except for me and that ball. I didn't even look at my dad or Hunt or Annie once, it was just me and that ball hitting that sweet spot every single time.

Mom and Kerry were waiting with a cake at home, and I don't know, I was still on this total buzz from the game, but I was in the kitchen with my parents and my brother's healthy right now and Annie ate her whole slice of cake and seemed happier than she's been in a while, and it was like--the game was just practice perfect. This was real perfect.

And Annie totally told me to come over tonight after my parents to go bed.

This is so my night.

Your journal is where you can be a braggart, right? I mean, the only other place--well, it's not a place where I can brag, it's who I can brag to, and that's Annie. But she's like twenty time zones ahead of me, and I want to brag, and this is a secret place to do it, right?

I think I'm gonna be good enough. Really good enough. Like...yeah, I'm one of the best in this country, and I'm good enough to go pro. I don't know if I'll be good enough for the bigs or if I'll sign and then linger in the minors or whatever, but--I'm good enough.

Coach has been tweaking the hell out of my form, and he's introducing a new pitch, a sinker with a really nasty hang, that'll take me a good year to get cooking like it needs to be, but it'll work just fine back home, and he thinks I have it. I'm smoking the other pitchers here, I'm fanning the hitters from ASU and from the minors--he had some scouts come, and the feedback was off the chain, and--I'm good enough.

The thing is? Thinking all of this, it doesn't feel like a weight as much as how I have to pitch my shit out so that we win States. I have to, they are all counting on me. If I go pro, and I couldn't do what they are all counting on me to do, it's like I fail. This week is this big confirmation, but it's also feeling like a curse, because if I can't come through--then what is it worth? I don't know.

Jesus, I hope nobody ever sees this, I sound like the biggest fucking egotist in the world.

Mom and Dad are having a Loud Talk. A really loud talk; they're in the garage, but I could hear it when I went to the kitchen for some water. They're fighting over when Kerry and I should be told something. Dad doesn't want to distract me before the conference track championships on Saturday, and he doesn't want Kerry to know before me. Mom says that we'll be pissed that they've kept it from us for so long.

This sounds like the fights they had before they told us about moving out here. Just then, Dad wanted to tell us, Mom didn't want to ruin our summer until they were sure about leaving. But I don't think we're moving this time. Both of them wouldn't sound like they've been crying if it was just a move. They both like it fine here, but they've made it totally clear they are not in Connecticut to stay. They wouldn't be crying about moving.

They haven't told us what all of those tests they ran on Hunter at the Children's Hospital in Philadelphia discovered, they haven't said a word, just that Hunter was a total champ and tomorrow night, we're going to Chuck E. Cheese with a few of his friends--and Annie, because Hunter invited her, too, which I thought was so cute--as a reward.

It's something bad. It's something so bad they don't know how to tell us. I can tell from my parents' voices, it's broken their hearts. And I think about how I felt when Dawn called me, both times, and--how my heart just shattered, and I don't think I can do it again. First for my Annie, now for my little brother? My Hunter? My heart's gonna die, I can't.

And it's like--I see Annie hitting a bad patch as she deals with that fucking bitch Tree, and I just want to explode. And I see her boyfriend Jason Fox being all nicey-nice and I want to explode. I see Bruce Jamison treating Andi like shit and I want to meltdown. All I want is--

I-- Fuck. I. I just want to bad things to happen to bad people for once, and the good to get their reward.

I want to know what's going on with Hunter. I know my heart'll break, but--it just can't take this wait.

My dearest,

Oh, okay, I just teared up already. I'm sorry. But I had this urge to write in your journal, and...after how today has gone, this want to do something positive, to do...anything that isn't borne out of guilt or obligation...I feel like I finally might be emerging from under this, if even if only an inch. That's an important inch.

I love you. You wrote in my journal so that the first thing I saw in there wasn't...from that night, but was me being loved when I couldn't love myself. And I want to pour this journal full of how I feel about you, I want to give you what you give me, you give and you give and you give. But I don't know. There aren't words yet to say how much I love you, how much I appreciate you. All the words we have now, they're so shallow and so pale compared to you. Not even the Eskimos, with their hundreds of words for snow, could invent a word for how much I love you. There are gestures that are majestic: I could buy you a star in the sky, one that you could always find at night and let it light the night you and guide you, but a star would be jealous of how bright you shine in my darkness. And I can't give you hearts and flowers because there is no heart as beautiful as yours, and there are no flowers that grow as strong and lovely as you, because you have, Loesy, you've...grown more than anyone, you're becoming this...this man who's just so...

Words fail. Words fail to say how much I love you, how wonderful you are. I'm trying not to go to cliche, and...you're my star. You're my star, Loes, and the sky is full of stars, but you are the one that shines brightest, and when I need to find you, there you are, shining brighter every day as you continue to grow into who you always were meant to be.

I meant what I said: I love you most, I love you best, I love you brightest. I love you.

Yours forever,
Annie

I can't sleep. I slept a bit today, but now that it's after midnight, I just can't sleep. All I can do is just kinda--I'm doing what I have to, the track meet and working out and getting my homework ready for tomorrow--but past that, I don't have energy. I didn't even watch any of the NFL playoffs today. I didn't watch the Kentucky/Louisville basketball game. I just--feel empty.

I need to see her, make sure she's okay. Maybe then I'll be able to sleep.

I'd give anything to just skip tomorrow, but I can't. I have to go to school and act like nothing's wrong: Mary Anne's just making a belated visit to Iowa, since the weather was so bad during break, and with her grandmother as ill as she is--blah blah blah. No matter how whipped everybody says I am, even I wouldn't be depressed that she's gone for a bit. I gotta act like everything is okay; everyone's gonna look at me, and this secret--it's for her. Big smiles, right? Big smiles, talk about this game or that--

I'm just so tired. And I can't sleep. All I do is see her dead when I close my eyes, so I'll keep them open for as long as I can. I'm just--real tired.

I need to see her.

So it's official: I am not going to Kentucky or Louisville.

Also, Lewis despises me. Which is good, since I kinda feel the same about him still.

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