The Look Book

THREE

After school, Patrick entered his house to dead silence. His dad wouldn't be home from work until later in the evening. Alana was probably in her room listening to music. His mom was probably preparing dinner in the kitchen. And he could see through the side window that Bobby was playing outside in the yard.

Patrick slowly walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. His mom was at the counter with her back facing him. Hi mom. He mumbled.

Sandra looked up from cutting up vegetables. "Hi sweetie. How was school?"

Patrick grabbed something that was wrapped in aluminum foil mashed into a ball. "Mom, where's my sandwich? I made it yesterday?"

Sandra spoke as if she had forgotten where she was. "Oh. I think Bobby ate it. He said it was the only snack in there he wasn't allergic to."

Patrick slammed the door shut and picked an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter. "Did dad call?"

Sandra grunted but tried to sound pleasant. "Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said he'd be home tonight by eight. But you know how that goes." She continued making dinner stirring the vegetables into a pot over the stove.

Patrick lowered his head. His dad had a habit of never coming home when he said he was going to. He seemed to get home later each day. "You talked to him?"

"He left a message." She clarified.

Somehow, he already figured as much. "I'll be in my room. Got homework and practice."

Sandra forced a smile. "Ok sweetie."

Once safe in his room, he shut the door and threw his backpack across the room. He closed his eyes and sighed as he fell back across his bed trying to relax. Then the door opened.

"Hey Patrick! Wanna to play?" Bobby asked as he jumped on the bed then onto his brother's stomach with his knees. Bobby was a tall and feisty eight-year-old. His hair was a lighter shade than his sister's but had so much of it that he was in desperate need of a haircut.

"Owe!" Patrick shoved him off and winced in pain. He forced himself to sit up.

"I got to a new level on the game today. Do you wanna see?"

"No, I don't wanna play Bobby."

Bobby saw the frown on his brother's face. "Are you mad at me? I'm sorry I ate your sandwich."

"Sure, you are."

Bobby grinned. "Sorry but I was hungry!"

"Go away Bobby! I've got work to do."

Bobby's face fell. "You always say that. You used to play as soon as you came from school. Now all you do is practice." He whined. "Please? Ten minutes?"

His plea fell on Patrick's tired ears. "Out." Patrick ordered. Bobby slid off the bed and pouted as he slowly left the room and closed the door. Patrick went to where his backpack had landed to pick up his books that had fallen out. He then came across a book he didn't recognize and picked it up. It was a rectangle shaped book with a mahogany brown leather cover. Taking the book to his desk, he sat in the chair, and opened it up to the first page where there was a handwritten inscription.

TO MY DARLING DAUGHTER

MAY YOU FILL THIS BOOK WITH ALL YOUR

HOPES AND DREAMS

ALL MY LOVE

MOTHER

Patrick turned the page. At the top, in the corner was a handwritten date.

 

May 15th

Dear Diary,

I have received this book through the mail today. I am amazed to know that somewhere out in the world my mother is still alive. My mother, as I had been told, was too young of age when I was born. And not being able to provide for me properly she gave me up so that I could have a proper home and a proper family.

But I know the truth. I was only four years old, but I remember the moment they took me away. I still see images of that moment when I dream. My mother was holding me in her arms when they came in. They snatched me away and she was begging them not to take me. I remember the heavy sounds of the rain that night. I remember me screaming for her at the top of my lungs. I remember reaching out for her to get meyet somehow I ended up here.

Here is Marshall Brooks Academy for girls. I've attended this academy for over eleven years. I've been eating nothing but porridge and bread every morning for breakfast and chilled soup every night for supper. It's where the upstairs window is stuck open allowing the chilly night air and scratching sounds of tree branches become terrible noises while I sleep. It's where snobby pampered girls think that they can belittle you because youre an orphan.

But I have a plan to escape. This is a plan that Ive been working on for quite some time. I'm confident that I can sneak away without anyone noticing. Good-bye to my old, retched life at the academy and hello to the new life that waits me.

Sincerely Maggie