The Diary

December 20, 2010
By Anonymous

Dead. That is what I will be if she catches me. She, being Francine, my sister. I glance down the hallway, my eyes in search of a yellow skirt or pink dress. I had faked being sick this morning and even caused myself to throw up by sticking my toothbrush down my throat. My mom fell for it immediately, like she always does and called the school.

The door across the hall opens, and I hurriedly close my own, run across the room, leap in bed, and pull the covers up over me. I hear the door open, and I imagine her face, so much like mine, peering in attempting to solve the puzzle of my consciousness. Content with her search, my sister shuts the door, careful to turn the knob so the door would not click. I think of her perfect polished shoes pounding down the steps towards the kitchen, the sounds corresponding to my thoughts.

I jump from my bed; I could not wait any longer. I slowly open my door, using the same trick Fran had used. I dash across the hall and insert the key into the lock that she had “lost” a week ago. It fit perfectly and the oiled hinge glided smoothly, while the deadbolt gave way. My sister was paranoid, but as I realize, for good reason.

I sneak into the room filled with pink. Pink flowers, pink walls, pink bedcovers, I am going to get cooties! I hurry to press the neck of my shirt into my face, careful not to breathe unfiltered cootie-filled air.
Holding one hand to my face to keep up my shield, I use the other to open and shut the door of her desk. On the bottom I find what I want, a pink booklet with the most girly word ever written upon its front in swirly letters: Diary.
I hastily grab it from its drawer and memorize where it came from. I hurry across the room; it would not be good if she caught me here. I turn and look at the desk, and as I do I trip and fall over a leg of the pink bed. The diary flies and lands open, in front of me.
I look at the open book and stare at the curly letters. I see those fateful letters: I like… Hurriedly I grab the book and sit down on the frilly pink stool in front of the desk and start reading at the top of the page. My eyes betray me and skip over the words in an attempt to come to the part I want to read most. I read “I like Jimmy Green. He is very sweet and wonderful. He brought me flowers he picked himself yesterday and he asked me if I would like to eat ice cream with him today after school. I accepted and I can’t wait to see him.”
I couldn’t believe it! My Best friend Jimmy was after my sister! He had lied to me! I’ll make him pay! I promised to myself. I read on
“I hope my brother, Fred, never finds out though because…. And that was all the further I got.
Unknown to me, my falling down had alerted my sister that all was not well. She had returned upstairs and finding her door locked, looked into my room only to find an empty bed. My sister was pretty smart, the rest she could figure out.
I drop the diary; my eyes franticly search for a way past my twin. It is hopeless. The room is small as it is and with her blocking the way, there is no way past. Her green eyes, so much like mine, blaze with fury. I stammer, “Oh hello Fran, how are you? I thought well you had, well I thought you had…”
“Oh, shut up Freddy! I can’t believe you snuck into my room and read my diary! How could you?!” Now a boy who had a normal sister would expect his sister to burst into tears about now. Not my sister.
The last thing I saw that morning was a tight, pink fist, coming round.
I wake up. The bright red alarm clock on the nightstand pointed its arms at the twelve and at the six. Oh no! I start up and bolt for the door, but on the way I stop, and glance at the mirror. Double oh no, I think as I glance at the black and blue face staring back at me. I hear a soft voice chuckling behind me. I turn, it is my dad. He must have been sitting in the corner waiting for me to come around.
“She knocked you a good one son.” More chuckles. Whatever on my face that is not blue and black is now red. “You were out cold for a while, you’re ok though, the doctor has already checked on you.” Even more chuckles as he heads out the doors. “Should have told you sooner son. Leave what you don’t need to know, unknown” He left the room, leaving me staring at the black and blue face in the mirror.

The author's comments:
This piece was inspired by Norman Rockwell's "Secrets" painting and tells the story of that little boy who read his sisters diary.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book