He handed them to Leslie. “No, you write. My handwriting is too good for Willard Hughes.”
He got set and waited. “OK,” she said. “Um. 'Dear Janice.' No. 'Dearest Janice.'”
Jess hesitated, doubtful. “Believe me, Jess. She'll eat it up. OK. 'Dearest Janice.'”
Don't worry about punctuation or anything. We have to make it look as if Willard Hughes really wrote it.
OK. 'Dearest Janice, Maybe you won't believe me, but I love you.'”
“You think she'll... ?” he asked as he wrote it down.
“I told you, she'll eat it up. Girls like Janice Avery believe just what they want to in this kind of situation.
OK, now. 'If you say you do not love me, it will break my heart. So please don't.
If you love me as much as I love you, my darling—'” “Hold it. I can't write that fast.”
Leslie waited, and when he looked up, she continued in a moony voice,
“ 'Meet me behind the school this afternoon after school. Do not worry about missing your bus.
I want to walk home with you and talk about US'—put 'us' in capitals—'my darling. Love and kisses, Willard Hughes.'”
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