Allie

Tonight I am supposed to be writing Stradlater's composition, but all I can think about is Allie's baseball mitt. He is my younger brother who died of leukemia a few years back. On the night he died I went in the garage and punched all of the windows out just for the hell of it. I would have punched out the car windows too but my hand was too beat up. To this day I still can't make a fist. His mitt and a messed up hand is all I have left of him. The mitt is a left-fielders mitt that Allie had written poems on in green ink. Allie wrote these poems so he had something to do out in the field. Allie was intelligent and good-natured and had red hair. It was the kind you could see from a mile away. He used to laugh so hard he'd fall off his chair. I loved Allie and when he died I went crazy.