The End of Forever, chapter three

June 17, 2004
Great. Now this journal is turning into a habit. I don’t want to be one of those goony girls who spends all her free time writing “dear diary, blah blah blah blah.” I don’t want a diary. Excuse me, journal.

Whatever. Looks like I’ve got one.

So…since I’m obviously still going to keep writing, maybe it would be right for me to introduse everybody. (Oh god, now I’m treating this dumb notebook like a person. What next?)

Whatever. Anyway…

My name is Lea Border. It’s short for Amelea, but I just like Lea. I’m in third grade. I like swimming, body surfing, and all that stuff. I also like doing crazy things that freak grown-ups out. But hey, I’m I kid. That’s my perpose in life.

My best friend’s name is Mikka Wilkerson. We do everything together except swim. That’s because I only swim at the beach, and she doesn’t have a beach house. Mikka is a real daredevil. That’s why we’re so close.

Mom and Dad are just normal parents. They get pretty mad when I do dumb things, which is pretty often. Mom is scared of almost everything.

Lissie, Emily, and Gretchen are my cousins. Lissie is the youngest. She’s only four. She’s also the most hiperactive. Emily and Gretchen are twins. Emily is really into music. She also loves to swim, and can get pretty hiper, like Lissie, it just isn’t a regular thing. Gretchen is the better student. She doesn’t actually like to get wet, and she especially hates to wear swim suits. Mostly, she walks along the beach in a cover-up and picks up seashells. Sometimes, I wonder if we’re from the same family. Their parents, my aunt and uncle, are Louise and Carl Border.

I’m looking at this journal. It’s the boringest thing ever. No one in their right mind is ever gonna read it. But I guess that’s a good thing. It’s cheeper than buying a lock.

**********

I sigh and put down the journal. The thing is harder to follow than my math textbook. Even when you get past the handwriting, and the spelling mistakes, it doesn’t make sense. Who is Gretchen? I don’t have a cousin named Gretchen.

And was I really friends with Mikka Wilkerson? Mikka is in some of my classes, and she’s always hated me. And a daredevil? Not likely. Mikka’s one of those “dear diary goony girls” mentioned in the diary. Excuse me, journal.

Maybe I should ask Dad. Not about the diary, because then I’d have to admit to being in the attic, but I could at least ask about the picture of me at the beach house. I haven’t been known for looking through scrapbooks, but I couldn’t get in trouble for it.

I get up to find him.

Dad is in his room. He’s lying in bed reading. I go up to him.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Uh huh?”

I put on my most innocent face and show him the picture. “Is this me?” I ask, in a just-curious voice.

He looks at the picture. Maybe it’s the lighting, but I can swear he just went white. And now his complexion is getting darker, rising past the normal beige tone and turning red.

“Yup, that’s you,” he says, as if fighting to control himself.

“Oh.” I paused, as if I hadn’t figured this out already. “Where am I?”

“I don’t remember,” he replied, his face showing otherwise.

I squint at the picture, as if trying to figure it out. “Looks like the beach.”

He’s definitely pale now. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“The beach makes sense,” I press. “We’re only an hour and a half or so away.”

His complexion rises rapidly. “I said don’t worry about it!” he snapped. “Go!”

I leave, wondering what he’s hiding.