Page 114 of The Secret We Keep
“Nothing, old man.” I head towards the house. “I’ll be back in five.”
Count your lucky stars
Morgan
Aloneinmyroom,it’s hard to place what happened today. It started off fine, but then it went downhill. I can picture Paddy at lunch with another woman. That feeling inside me when I wished that was me, then realising I might not ever get my chance.
I tap my pen to my pad of paper where I’ve not written a thing. Everybody I know has encouraged me to write down everything in my own way, and now, given everything that happened earlier, I can’t understand why no words are coming to me.
My head feels like a cloud. It’s too full. Too heavy. And yet, I can’t grab hold of any slither of what happened to begin untangling it.
Getting up off the floor, I walk to my wardrobe and open it to reach up for a box of my old journals. The one I pull out is bound with Sellotape down one side. Happiness at remembering my early writing days, blooms inside me. I must have been eleven, maybe even twelve when I first started writing things down properly. This is my first one. The only one I ever shared with my friends.
Walking back to the spot on the floor, I lean back against my bed, resting my head on the mattress as I carefully open the old journal.
October 31st2014
Halloween is for babies. I’ve decided. Mum says I’m only saying that because I didn’t get as many sweets this year, but she can bog off. If you’re going to try and give me an orange on Halloween, then I quit.
Laughing, I flick through more of the pages.
December 24th2014
Oh my God, Father Christmas is coming tomorrow… well, tonight, but you know what I mean! I’m so excited! When I spoke to Fi, she said her older brother told her that Father Christmas isn’t real. Obviously, I would NEVER admit this out loud, but I still believe. I lied and said that I don’t to my friends because I don’t want them to laugh at me, but I know he has to be real. How else do the presents get under the tree? Anyway, I never believe what Fi’s brother says because he’s so bad.
January 11th2014
I got my first typewriter! Oh my God, I can’t wait to get some ink and some paper from the shops so that I can start typing like a real writer. We have to go into town because the local shop doesn’t sell what we need. But hopefully Mum can take me tomorrow after she’s finished work! I wrote a poem in English today. Holly said it was good. I wasn’t sure, but then my teacher, Mr Deveril, he took it and showed our head of year. Apparently, it’s going up on the school achievement board tomorrow, which is so embarrassing! Everyone will laugh at me! Maybe I could type it up once I have what I need!
I remember no one laughing at me. In fact, most of my friends were proud. Still, I chuckle at the memory as I get up and drag more of my journals down.
I find one with a laminated front which is the first one I typed. Skimming over the latter half of the pages, one makes me stop.
It’s a blank page, apart from a date at the top.
August 1st2022
Staring blankly at the page, I have no clue why I wrote a date but nothing more.
Going back, nothing suggests anything was wrong or out of the ordinary. As far as I can tell, everything was fine. There were no friendship issues.
Our exams were finished.
Life was good.
Shaking my head, I flick through more pages, slowing as I move towards the back of the journal.
Each entry is shorter.
The words chop and change out of rhythm with one another.
October 10th2022
Something is wrong in my world.
Why have I never gone back and read these?
Dropping my journal to my lap, my thoughts are a mixture of grey and black. Dark eyes then push through, my thoughts drifting to Paddy and how annoyed he looked when Holly’s father came and took me away. Paddy’s text to make sure I’m alright, but I haven’t replied yet.
