Totally Joe

March 10

Dear Mr. Daly,

Okay, I admit it. When you first gave us this assignment, I thought it was lame. Write about yourself from A-Z? Bo-ring. (No offense.) Besides worrying that I wouldn't know what to write for every single letter (Hello, does anybody
know
an x-word other than xylophone? And does anybody
play
the xylophone? And if they did, would anybody
care?
), well, I was also thinking,
Can
I
really tell the truth about myself?
I'm not ashamed of my life or anything. I'm only thirteen (twelve, when I started writing this), so I doubt I've gotten to the
really
embarrassing stuff yet, but, let's face it, I'm not exactly your average Joe and I get called plenty of names because of it. And then there was all the stuff that happened this year. I mean, was I really going to write about all that? And when you said we had to end every chapter with a Life Lesson to share with others, I thought:
Oh. My God. That is
so
Oprah
.

But I got the point. You wanted us to think. You wanted this to be
about
something. But if it's about the real stuff—you know, the truth and all—well, I have to ask: Mr. Daly, did you think this one through? I mean, hello, we're in the seventh grade. Every single thing anybody knows about us is ammunition. And have you thought about the fact that we would end up talking about other people in our “alphabiographies,” as you call them? I mean, we could be sued for
libel
. I know about this stuff. I watch Court TV.

Well, anyway, here it is. I started it in October and finished it last week. You're the first person to read it—other than me, I mean. I haven't even shown it to my best friends, who all shared what they wrote and were, like, “We're never speaking to you again” when I wouldn't let them read what I wrote—especially Addie, who doesn't know the meaning of “It's none of your business.” Well, actually, Bobby was okay with my not sharing. He respects privacy. But the others were, like, “Joe, it's not like we don't know everything about you, anyway.” But the thing is, I wrote stuff in here that I've never written down before. Some of it I didn't even
know
until I wrote it down. It's kind of personal (and some of it is seriously private). I had to decide if I should take some stuff out before
handing it in, but I liked writing it and it's all the truth—and that's what you said we should go for, right?

But the thing is, Mr. Daly, if you wouldn't mind keeping what I've written to yourself, that would be okay with me. Really. Whatever you do,
please
don't ask me to read any of it in front of the class, even if you think it's the best alphabiography you've ever read. I mean, I wouldn't want to betray other people—and the thing with my mother's high heels is not something I need everybody to know about. Ammunition, remember?

Yours truly,