Once Upon A Journal

Chapter Five

Sometimes your body senses the future even before your mind catches on, like a quiet warning of what’s to come.

All throughout my next classes, I feel a heaviness in my head and a tingling sensation in my chest that I haven't felt before. The black and blue uniform of the students fade into the background, blending into a blur of indistinct faces and muffled voices.

By the time, the bell rings my head is pounding.

As I am walking down the hallway, I notice Gianna walking towards me, her eyes blazing with anger. She looks furious. She's moving fast and there's a determined set to her jaw that makes my stomach drop.

Why is she furious? I did give her my notes. I rack my brain, trying to recall if I missed something or if I did anything to upset her.

Okay, maybe I am just paranoid. She might not even be angry at me.

But it's not paranoia because soon she is standing in front of me, her tone frosty, "I didn't think you'd be so pathetic, walking around trying to be so nice when you're a bitch inside."

She says so loudly that students turn their heads to whisper among themselves. I can see a crowd forming around me, their eyes curious.

I am confused, so all I say is, "What happened. What did I do wrong?"

But even before she answers, I see my journal in her hand and my heart sinks. The sight of it makes me brace myself for whatever's about to happen.

"This. Isn't this yours?" Gianna asks, her voice dripping with disdain as she thrusts my journal in front of me.

I don't answer her, fearing that my voice would betray me. The heaviness in my head and the tightness in my chest seem to have grown. I clench my fists, trying to steady my shaking fingers. The corridor feels smaller, the walls closing in.

"Yeah...but I didn't mean to," I say so quietly that I'm not sure if they heard me. The only thing going through my head is that I need to go somewhere else before I start crying in front of them. They already know this ugly part of me, I don't want to show them my vulnerable side too.

"Stop lying.You meant every single word of it," Gianna says, her voice laced with venom. The words echo in the hallway, bouncing off the lockers and into the ears of everyone.

I just stand there, paralyzed. My throat is dry and I can feel the sting of unshed tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. It's difficult to say anything back when you've been a pushover since the start, and I'm not sure if saying anything will help my cause. The words I want to say are trapped in my chest, suffocated by years of self doubt and fear.

The crowd around me seems to close in, their murmurs growing louder. I try to take a deep breath but it catches in my throat.

"Pathetic," someone whispers from the crowd and I feel the heat of embarrassment flush my cheeks. The faces around me blur and for a moment it feels like the hallway is spinning.

All I remember now is that Gianna had been parading around, soaking up the praise for the writing that was actually mine. I can still picture her basking in the spotlight, her smile glowing and her laughter echoing through the room. Before I knew it, I found myself here, slumped against my bedroom wall, seething as I scribbled down my thoughts.

If you're going to take credit for someone else's work, at least have the decency not to show it off.What could you possibly know about the true meaning behind the story?You're not just a nuisance, you're also a convincing liar, pretending like it was yours all along. Maybe you should consider acting instead. Just because I didn't speak up doesn't mean I didn't see right through you—

"I thought when you said you'd do my homework, you genuinely wanted to. Didn't think you'd be such a snob about it," a boy named Marcus chimes in, his tone accusatory.

I remember how I wrote that he's not only a lazy person living on his dad's money but also stupid.

"Well?" Gianna demands, her eyebrows raised, daring me to respond.

My body feels numb. It shouldn't be there. People shouldn't have found out about this journal. For the last three years, I've been careful. How could I be so careless now?

The crowd shifts, murmurs growing louder, and the last person I want to see right now appears.

Alex Rivers.

He doesn't have to push through the crowd. He simply walks forward, head held high, and everyone parts for him as if he's Moses parting the Red Sea.

"Thank God you're here too, Alex. Didn't you see what she wrote about you?" Gianna asks.

By the end of her sentence, I just want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. What does she mean by him reading my writing? Does everyone know? Does Alex know?

He doesn’t respond right away, just stares at me and I’m desperately hoping he won’t say anything because I can’t bear the thought of us not being on the same level. I can't bear the thought of him looking down at me. I am not sure what all that means, I just know that I can't.

"Juliette, come with me," he says, his grey eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

Then, with his hands in his pockets, he turns around to leave without even glancing if I am following.

The crowd's whispers grow louder. My legs feel like lead, but I force myself to move, to follow Alex. The hallway stretches endlessly before me, and all I can think about is the weight of the journal in Gianna's hands and the harsh, unforgiving stares of the other students.

Thank you ♡'･ᴗ･'♡