Disclaimer: I do not own the woozle, nor any of his friends

Please send feedback. It will inspire me to write more wonky woozle stories. (I think that is just the cutest name for Kyle. What can I say? I love the woozle.

He got a letter in the mail today.

And it wasn’t just one of those, “You may already be a winner!” or “Get 150 CDs for 1 cent” offers.

It was a genuine letter, with a handwritten address. Written in a funny cursive that he didn’t recognize.

But it was addressed to him…Kyle Valenti.

So he opened it.

When he read it a whole spectrum of emotion flashed through him.

Anger.

Hope.

Fear.

And he sat down on the step by the mailbox, and cried.

Why did this have to come now, when he had actually managed to bring a tiny amount of stability? He could deal with the DeLucas moving in with them, and even with the engagement ring Jim had put on Amy’s finger. He could even deal with Maria, the world’s biggest bathroom hog. And he could deal with the fact that a large portion of his closest friends are aliens.

But he couldn’t do this.

Maria stopped her Jetta in front of the house, hopping out.

“What’s wrong?” she said, looking at her soon to be stepbrother. Kyle didn’t just break into tears over nothing.

“This” he said. His voice cracking.

Maria took the letter out of his hand and sat down beside him. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a vial of cedar oil.

“Sniff this and you’ll feel better.”

Kyle cracked a little smile. It helped to know that someone cared.

Maria put her arm around Kyle’s shoulder and began to read the letter.

Dear Kyle,

I must admit I don’t know exactly how to write this letter.

Should I tell you how sorry I am? And would you believe me if I did?

I can’t believe that you’re a Junior in High School now. Where does the time go?

I’d always planned to wait another year to talk to you. I thought I’d give you a chance to grow up, not having to worry about what went wrong.

It wasn’t your fault.

But something has happened. After a couple of failed marriages after I left you and your father, I have found the perfect man.

His name is Peter, and I know you will simply adore him.

And he has a daughter, around your age, that he hasn’t seen since she was a baby.

And so, we thought we should bring together a family. I know it won’t be anything like “The Brady Bunch” but I think we can make this work.

I’m not asking for you to leave your dad and friends and live with us full time, but to come visit on vacation.

Baby, Peter and I will be stopping through Roswell on the 28th. I thought that we could meet at the Crashdown, say sixish? You can tell your father if you want, but I would like the chance to talk to him face to face.

But I have to see you.

Please be there.

Love

Michelle P. Valenti-Travers Scott

Maria turned to Kyle.

“Whoa. You have to go.”

“No way! The 28th is today. If she had wanted to see me bad enough, she’d come here. I’ve been in the same stinking place for my whole entire life. If my mother cared, she’d have come back sooner.”

“Kyle, you have to take this chance!”

“Why are you so insistent about this? It’s not your life.”

Maria looked him straight in the eye.

“Because if that letter was from my father, wild horses couldn’t stop me from being there.”

Back to Area 51 (Section IV)