was obviously trying to hide something. What if she was in trouble? It
was my duty as her best friend to find out what she was hiding so that I could
save her…At least that was how I justified it.
I rummaged
through her bag twice and found nothing. I closed the door, and started
perusing her room. I checked under the bed, behind the bedframe, under the
mattress, I checked her shoes, in her pant pockets, between the flowers on the
vase, ran my fingers over the blades of the ceiling fan, I moved paintings
hoping to find secret passageways...And that's when I stopped, because that's
when I realized the absurdity of the situation. Plus I was tired, and I’d
gotten a bruise from falling off the bed when I was checking the fan.
Besides, I
wasn't even sure what I was looking for. I collapsed on her bed, accepting
defeat, staring at the bookshelf that stood across the room. Then I found it.
All those late nights watching too many action movies did pay off! I. Was.
Ecstatic. I had to remind myself to stop doing my happy dance so I could get to
the bottom of this case before Ash came back. Sneakily, I glided my way to the
bookcase. I stared at it like it was priceless treasure.
I happened
to know that Ashton organized her books by favorites, so that the order made no
sense to anyone but her. I also remembered that Sylvia Plath was her favorite
poet. So why was Ariel in the middle
of the shelf? The only explanation was that it had been moved to make room for
something else.
I stood on my toes, looking at the top of the
bookshelf. And...bingo! I found a book with no title or author. I pulled it
out, looking back at the door like I was a spy in enemy territory.
Ashton
Willis
March
14th, 2009
I
promise to document the exciting and awful moments of my life, so that I may
share them with you, wherever you are. All the things I find I can't share with
anyone else shall be written here.
With
Love,
Your favorite (and only)
granddaughter
I sat down.
So this was her diary. I was certain it was what she’d been looking for. But
why would she be so adamant on hiding it today? ‘Maybe I shouldn’t read it,’ I started to think. ‘ But she’s just learned my deepest secret, so
maybe this will just bring us closer?...Yeah! Open it, open it, open it…’
I flipped
the page carefully. The journal was beautiful, its black leather cover
embellished by vine-like designs in gold print that made it resemble the sort
of books
collectors
sought after, the kind that sold for thousands of dollars at old book stores,
except the pages were starting to fall out. Though the table of contents proved
the diary to be almost as ancient as the books it resembled, the journal was
large enough that I could understand why she hadn’t filled it up after all
these years.
I skimped
through the titles.
November 15th, 2009 “A Bad Day “
April 29th, 2011 “The Day I Met Eliza/
"Elle"
September 4th, 2012 “I Miss You”
March 10th, 2013 “An Epiphany”
June 20th, 2015 “The
Day I Met Julian”
And that's
when I knew I'd found it. What she'd been trying to hide, I mean.
I Don’t Want to Be Your Sugar, Sugar
June 20 th ,
2015 The Day I Met Julian
I was just minding my own business.
I was sitting near the beach on this bench I’d found. Etched into it were
different markings; wild declarations of love by teenagers, some flower
drawings, hearts, stick figures, proclamations of everlasting friendships,
“Tori & Brit: BFFs Forever, ” other drawings I couldn’t identify, some I
didn’t want to. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. Somewhere in the distance,
birds were chirping. Children were merrily splashing each other and those who
hadn’t heard about
was my duty as her best friend to find out what she was hiding so that I could
save her…At least that was how I justified it.
I rummaged
through her bag twice and found nothing. I closed the door, and started
perusing her room. I checked under the bed, behind the bedframe, under the
mattress, I checked her shoes, in her pant pockets, between the flowers on the
vase, ran my fingers over the blades of the ceiling fan, I moved paintings
hoping to find secret passageways...And that's when I stopped, because that's
when I realized the absurdity of the situation. Plus I was tired, and I’d
gotten a bruise from falling off the bed when I was checking the fan.
Besides, I
wasn't even sure what I was looking for. I collapsed on her bed, accepting
defeat, staring at the bookshelf that stood across the room. Then I found it.
All those late nights watching too many action movies did pay off! I. Was.
Ecstatic. I had to remind myself to stop doing my happy dance so I could get to
the bottom of this case before Ash came back. Sneakily, I glided my way to the
bookcase. I stared at it like it was priceless treasure.
I happened
to know that Ashton organized her books by favorites, so that the order made no
sense to anyone but her. I also remembered that Sylvia Plath was her favorite
poet. So why was Ariel in the middle
of the shelf? The only explanation was that it had been moved to make room for
something else.
I stood on my toes, looking at the top of the
bookshelf. And...bingo! I found a book with no title or author. I pulled it
out, looking back at the door like I was a spy in enemy territory.
Ashton
Willis
March
14th, 2009
I
promise to document the exciting and awful moments of my life, so that I may
share them with you, wherever you are. All the things I find I can't share with
anyone else shall be written here.
With
Love,
Your favorite (and only)
granddaughter
I sat down.
So this was her diary. I was certain it was what she’d been looking for. But
why would she be so adamant on hiding it today? ‘Maybe I shouldn’t read it,’ I started to think. ‘ But she’s just learned my deepest secret, so
maybe this will just bring us closer?...Yeah! Open it, open it, open it…’
I flipped
the page carefully. The journal was beautiful, its black leather cover
embellished by vine-like designs in gold print that made it resemble the sort
of books
collectors
sought after, the kind that sold for thousands of dollars at old book stores,
except the pages were starting to fall out. Though the table of contents proved
the diary to be almost as ancient as the books it resembled, the journal was
large enough that I could understand why she hadn’t filled it up after all
these years.
I skimped
through the titles.
November 15th, 2009 “A Bad Day “
April 29th, 2011 “The Day I Met Eliza/
"Elle"
September 4th, 2012 “I Miss You”
March 10th, 2013 “An Epiphany”
June 20th, 2015 “The
Day I Met Julian”
And that's
when I knew I'd found it. What she'd been trying to hide, I mean.
I Don’t Want to Be Your Sugar, Sugar
June 20 th ,
2015 The Day I Met Julian
I was just minding my own business.
I was sitting near the beach on this bench I’d found. Etched into it were
different markings; wild declarations of love by teenagers, some flower
drawings, hearts, stick figures, proclamations of everlasting friendships,
“Tori & Brit: BFFs Forever, ” other drawings I couldn’t identify, some I
didn’t want to. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. Somewhere in the distance,
birds were chirping. Children were merrily splashing each other and those who
hadn’t heard about
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