Mail—Tucker

The second day we were in Hawaii, I got a call from the front desk.

"Mr. Oaks?"

"Speaking."

"You have a package waiting for you at the lobby."

"A package?" The only person who would ever send me a package (Axel) was on vacation with me. I was confused.

"Yes. From a Dave King?" I swore. Dave King was the publisher who was going to read through our book and see if he thought it would sell. He said if it was good, we would hear from him within a week. We had sent the first draft to him two days ago.

Instantly, I hung up the phone and called Axel. I told him the news, and we planned to meet at the front desk in 45 seconds. I got there in 30. Axel was right behind me.

"Uh, I have a package, it's for Tucker Oaks?" The woman at the counter seemed surprised. "Yes," I admitted. "You did just speak to me about a minute ago."

She laughed, but handed me the package anyway. It was small, situated in a brown paper box. Axel and I stared at it.

"Well, Otto, I guess this is it. The future of our writing career, here, in this box."
Before Axel could respond, the woman spoke up again.

"Did you say Otto? I have another package for a man by that name." She reached below her desk and pulled out an identical package. Dave had sent us each a copy.

We thanked the woman, and sat down in two chairs in the lobby. We quickly ripped open the package, and on top of the industrial-clip bounded first draft of our book, was a note.

Axel & Tuck—

Look over my notes, but there's barely anything you two need to change. Start thinking of a design for your cover. HarperCollins wants your book. HARPERCOLLINS.

You two are going to be millionaires.

Best of luck,

(Although you two certainly don't need any.)

Dave

"Holy...."

"Fuck."
I looked at Axel. Axel looked at me. We both smiled.

"I guess this means I get to read your half now?" Axel was already flipping through the endless pieces of white computer paper that now held out entire future.

I swallowed. "Fuck, I guess? I thought we agreed not to read each other's until the whole thing was published?"

"Oh come on, Tuck!" Axel was giving me his puppy dog face. "Harper fucking Collins!"

"Fuck, you're right," The puppy dog face always did me dirty. "Let's read it."

Axel grinned. "Last one to finish buys a new apartment."

I grinned back. "You're on."

Two hours later, I was finished with the first part, the part about high school. I couldn't stop laughing. I hadn't read the pieces I had written since I had written them, and I was already desperate to read more of Axel's writing. It was amazing. He could write beautifully--with tact, grace, humor, and skill. Axel was always the more talented of the two of us.

After another three hours, I had gotten through almost all of our college years. Axel and I had been sitting next to each other on beach lounge chairs, simultaneously laughing and snorting and exchanging glances at all the same parts. Except I was a faster reader, so after a while I began to out pace him. We put the draft down, albeit very reluctantly, for lunch.

Axel sat across from me as he chewed down a burger. "Hey, Tuck?" he seemed nervous. I furrowed my brows.

"What's up kid?"

"How about... how about neither of us read part three? That way, we still have some surprise when the book is on shelves." I nodded. It made sense, but I was confused as to why Axel seemed so coy and anxious. His fingers shook as he reached for his beer.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can do that."

He exhaled. "Thanks, Tuck. Thanks a lot." He seemed relieved. So relieved, that I grew suspicious. What had he written that he didn't want me to see? What was Axel keeping from me? We didn't have secrets. Axel and I did not keep anything from each other.

So, before I went to bed that night, I started part three.