Dear Mr. Sashu
I was the one who keyed your car and slashed your tires. I was angry that you gave me a B- instead of an A+ on the essay. I spent countless hours researching and reviewing. I did my work carefully and even went to the beyond to get some of that information. I deserved a 100%, and you didn't give it to me. Hopefully you won't press charges; my parents are having a hard time right now financially. They wouldn't be able to pay for the damages if you did. I'm really trying to make it through school, and get a scholarship for UPenn.
My parents fight a lot, every day and night. It's hard to get a good night's sleep. All I ask is for you to change my grade to an A+; straight A+'s will impress the school even more. I need this Mr. Sashu, my family cannot afford it and this is the only way I can get in; especially since they might be thinking about divorce. You don't know how hard that'll be for me. School is my only outlet from this hectic "family" and yes I am an only child. Please Mr. Sashu, please help me; this is my last year of high school, and my last chance to make my wish come true.
It would mean the world to me if you did this. I promise to pay you back when I get a job. I’ve worked so hard these four years, and if I don’t get that scholarship, I’ll very distraught. Other than this dream of mine, I have nothing else going for me. Like I said, my parents are possibly divorcing, they don’t have enough money for tuition, and I’m not much good at anything else. Please think this over Mr. Sashu, it’s not a pity letter, it’s the truth. Thank you for having me in your class, I enjoyed it very much.
Sitting in my car, I fold the letter and slip it inside the white envelope. I grab the damp towel and wipe it over the seal, then closing it. I open the door and slowly walk across the street to Mr. Sashu’s front door. A cold breeze sends shivers down my back and a few droplets of rain fall on my determined face. Ringing the doorbell, I leave the letter on the blue mat and race to my car.
Mr. Sashu opens his door and looks around. He finally sees the envelope and picks it up, taking it inside.
My task is complete.
I drive home, anticipating Mr. Sashu’s reaction to me on Monday. My driveway comes to view and I see the living room light. I sigh getting out of my car, hoping they’re not at it again. It’s silent as I unlock the door and walk inside.
“Why does everything have to be my fault Daisy?” My dad yells. I shake my head and groan.
Please Mr. Sashu, take me away from this hell I call home.