Not long after they received it, Javier’s parents gave Jack a letter, which had been sent to them, unopened, by Captain Reynolds, a friend who had discovered the note in Javi’s bunk.
The first time that Jack tried reading the letter, he couldn’t get past the second line without crying. But he was determined.
Mami y Papi,
I know you’re shocked and heartbroken right now, and I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. But I want you to know, I had to do this.
Five years ago, after the boxes arrived, a close friend and I decided to switch our strings, so I could present myself to the army as a long-stringer and be assigned a more challenging role, on the ground, wherever I was needed most.
I wanted to leave my mark on the world and really help people, the way that you both taught me to put others first. I couldn’t let my short string hold me back.
And it didn’t.
A year ago, I spotted a lost young boy who accidentally wandered into the line of fire, and I pulled him away before anything bad could happen to him. I think about that boy a lot now, with his dark, tangled hair and his skinny arms, like I’m sure mine used to be. Maybe you can think about him, too.
I pray that you will find comfort in knowing that we will see each other again. That I will be waiting for you, someday, alongside the rest of our family. It is that faith—the faith that you gave me—that has kept me strong, all this time.
I hate that I lied—to my country and to my family. But I don’t think of what I did as hiding the truth about myself. I think of it as finding the truth about myself. I’m not just Javi anymore. I’m Captain Javier García of the U.S. Army, and I hope that I have made you proud.
Los amo mucho,
Javi
Javier’s parents assumed that Jack was the close friend mentioned, and so Jack told them the truth, or at least part of it. He didn’t mention his own motivations for the switch, or the fact that he was actually the one to suggest it. He didn’t want to muddle the story of the switch as Javi had written it for them.
But Javi’s parents didn’t know what to do with the letter now. They hardly knew what to do with themselves, they were so gutted and depleted by grief. And they feared what might happen if anyone else were to read Javier’s written confession. Yet, in concealing the truth about Javi’s death, Jack knew that the army leaders were merely buying time for President Rollins. His uncle was in the middle of his reelection campaign, and nobody wanted word to get out that a young Latino short-stringer had intentionally conned the U.S. Army and evaded one of the cornerstone policies of the administration. Jack was worried that his friend’s life, his greatest sacrifice, would be covered up, erased in order to preserve his uncle’s fragile reputation. And Jack couldn’t let that happen—no matter what consequences he might face if the truth were to come out.
Jack shared his concerns with Javi’s parents, telling them how their son had encouraged him to fight on behalf of all short-stringers. Perhaps he could do that now, Jack said, by sharing his and Javi’s story.
All three of them knew that exposing the switch risked provoking backlash, but hiding it felt somehow shameful. And Javi’s parents were not ashamed. They were just as proud of their son as they had always been.
With their blessing, Jack drafted a plan.
Jack had requested a reassignment to New York four years earlier, desperate to leave D.C. after his aunt and uncle moved into the White House. He had made a few friends among the computer scientists at his small cyber command outpost, and he dated a handful of pretty girls, though most of them, believing Jack had a short string, only pursued him in the hope of fulfilling some warped Jackie O fantasy, marrying the doomed son of a dynasty. Jack had made a personal pledge to attend any Strung Together events in his city, and he and Javi had mailed each other letters several times a year, Javi’s end of the exchange always infinitely more exciting.
The thrill of defying his uncle had gradually faded, especially after the election, and neither work nor pleasure gave Jack much fulfillment. He had slipped back into his old aimless ways. Without the expectations of his family propping him up, it was surprisingly easy to topple over, to drift through the doldrums of the normal life he once craved.
But now, with a photocopy of Javier’s letter in his hands, Jack finally felt purpose again.
He arrived at the entrance to the brownstone where the Johnson Foundation was headquartered. After losing his presidential bid, Senator Wes Johnson had started the nonprofit to provide resources for short-stringers and promote equality of all string lengths. （Despite the great strides of the Strung Together movement, there was still much to overcome, as the bias against short-stringers proved easier to ingrain than to uproot.）