{prologue: summer letters 7} nick & lynn

Dear Lynn,

So, guess which sucker uncle forgot his phone wasn’t baby proof? Or rather, it wasn’t Henry/freak accident proof?

It’s really quite the interesting story, and I’m sure you’ll only love the champ all the more for it, seeing as he can do no wrong. I’d really love to be able to tap into that kind of power again, think it would still be there after all these years?

But right, the story. Well my siblings and I have this summer tradition of sorts: we rent out a couple of the worst movies ever made and spend the entire time criticizing and making fun of it, laughing our asses off, etc. If the movie is really bad we turn off the volume and add our own dialogue- it’s just something we’ve been doing since we were kids.

While we were getting snacks ready in the kitchen (standard mix of all popcorn, chips, and candy in the same bowl) Henry started getting all fuzzy and crying so I put on his favorite song on my phone to calm him down -Mountain Man by The Crash Kings if you were curious- and set the phone on the end table near his play-pen.

Fast forward just a mere three minutes in which we’re all coming back, and precious little Henry is standing up by holding on to the side of the play-pen, with my phone on his other hand that he was using as a makeshift drumstick that he was banging against the wall. I think he knew he was in trouble because as soon as he saw us he let out a startled little sound while he fell back on his butt and my phone went flying. Right out the window, into the neighbor’s backyard. Where a dog proceeded to chew it up. Now just imagine me chasing after this giant ass dog, telling him to give me back my phone. We got into a tug of war for it, and I won for a moment, but the flew out of my hands when I pulled back and it landed on the street where it proceeded to be ran over by a car.

This story wouldn’t be believable if it weren’t true.

Therefore, I am without my phone for at least a week because my parents keep arguing about who’s going to buy it, how much money, and so on. Really, I would much rather buy it myself but I gave most of my savings to Jesse when he needed help with the rent last month.

So, old fashioned letter-writing for a bit it is, whenever I simply can’t apparate over to visit I mean. At least that one doesn’t require an owl, seeing as how my mom has a fear of big birds. I think if she had a gun in her hand last time she saw one she would have shot the poor thing. How would I have explained that to Hols?

Apart from witnessing technological murder, I haven’t been doing much. Being an amazing brother and uncle, I suppose. I did meet up with a couple of my friends yesterday, went surfing. You’ll be happy to know, it’s just like riding a bicycle, you never forget so I didn’t wipe out…too badly. And it was only once but all my friends would exaggerate simply to embarrass me. I think it’s a favorite past time of theirs.

See, I was going to ask if you wanted to meet them, but now I’m not so sure. I’m not masochistic enough for it, I think. My mom has been bothering me to find out when you’d be able to come visit for dinner though. She insists you get your parents’ permission…tell if I’m wrong, but parents don’t usually let their kids travel eight timezones away.

What about you, babe? Anything exciting happen in the last week? I’m happily awaiting your response. Happily but impatiently, I feel odd without my phone in my back pocket.

Ever yours,

Baby, only you.

Actually though, I found the story very believable even if it weren’t true. Much more believable than a few of my own…that I shall not go into detail on here (I was set up. That’s all I’m saying. Hags lie; everyone knows that.) Henry has wicked taste in music though, so points for that. Think you meant fussy, by the way, unless he really did get fuzzy and crying…actually, babies are very fuzzy. And now I’m just rambling. Funny thing about letters: you notice when you’ve gone far off topic much faster than if you’re saying it outloud. Or maybe that’s just me…

I personally had just believed Jesse had roped you into some kind of soujourn for babysitting, or Kristen got you to help with some fundraiser, or you were abducted by aliens: so actually, I’ve already got permission to come and see you officially now. I finally wore Mum down. Granted, I’m also sure she knows you’ve been coming over too, because I don’t think she ever misses anything (it’s really very aggravating), and so I think she was just making me work for the permission she’d already given just because. Probably to teach me some kind of lesson. It’s obviously done it’s job.

But upside: I’m now officially able to come meet your Mum, so she can stop fretting about not being allowed. Downsite: not nearly as fun as sneaking out.

I really do miss you, babe. It’s gotten to the point where I’m actually looking forward to school, which I’ve never done. It feels so incredibly strange to think I won’t be going back to Hogwarts after next year. More than half my life has been spent in it’s halls…and I can’t even really enjoy it, since certain assholes are going to need to be put down in at least the first few months of the year.

Hm, scratch that: that I’ll very much enjoy.

So what you were saying about replacing dialogue for awful movies? I used to do that with my Mum except it wasn’t movies, it was these god-awful soap operas she and I got semi-addicted too when I was sick once. Semi-addicted too because I don’t remember any of the character names; we supplied our own. There was one character we called the “telephone vampire” because all he did really was stalk this girl through creepy phone calls we were probably supposed to find sweet, so we put this whole blood lust spin on it. But then when that apparently became the new trend—I miss Anne Rice—we made it film noir instead. The only real problem with that is that film noi requires decent writing and we were usually laughing too hard to actually make up good lines, so we’d end up just quoting Maltese Falcon, or Double Indemnity or something. And when everything in the room becomes “the stuff that dreams are made of,” it would turn into everything being “my precious” and I’d grab Dev for a night of massive LotR watching. It was the only film for a while he was cool with watching.

That’s kind of changed though. I mean, he still mostly watches things with Nadia, but this summer things have been better. He’s exhausting himself working at the Ministry, and you know I swear he’s already studying for those damned O.W.Ls…but a few nights ago he just showed up out of the blue (knocked and everything!) in my room and we ended up watching Braveheart together. I had been going to watch Love Actually, but he drew the line at that one. Still, considering the fact that only six months ago he’d forsaken all muggle technology, I’m considering this progress. To be honest, I still feel anytime Mum mentions us doing something “too muggle” he gets this odd stiff look for a moment before relenting. It just…makes me sad to see: I never wanted him to have to deal with, well, any of this. And I know Mum didn’t either, it’s why she worked so hard to keep us away.

On happier notes, I got the magazine issue early yesterday, where they’re putting my drawing in? They called to ask what caption to put, so now it’s got both Hols and I in there, drawing by Lynn Rivers: The Lioness Hols, being the title. I’m still shocked they chose mine. I mean, not that I don’t totally deserve it (I do), but because that was hardly my best drawing and the pool was just so large. It’s…unexpected. And considering we’re graduating this year and I still don’t have a career plan, this is heartening. Maybe I can open up a PI-slash-artists-studio with an international branch so I can travel and a legal department-slash-bribery dept so I can get out of trouble that I’m certain to get in.

Hey, it sounds like a solid career plan to me.

In regards to your friends though, I would love to meet them, duly warned as to their exaggeration and armed with the knowledge that really, nothing they could possibly say would change my opinon. Though if there is anything you want to tell me, now would be the time

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? Have faith babe, if they’re going to torture you, they’re going to have me to deal with for that. I won’t let them.

Last week wasn’t all that exciting after all the Hawaii drama, it seems things have quieted down to an unbearable stifling point. Can we just…run off to Ireland for a weekend, or else back to Hawaii just the two of us? Then that private beach could really be private…so I wouldn’t even need to pack, would I?