Secret Diaries (Heartlake Cliche #1)

Chapter Two

 December 8, 2008

 A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.

     “If you’re looking for your planner-slash-journal, you won’t find it here, sister dear,” Matt, Rachelle’s older brother, told her in what was supposed to be a girly voice but turned out to be a high-pitched, annoyed tone. Matt’s room was currently in a mess, thanks to his beloved sister. Her room, he clearly suspected, could only look worse.

      He leaned on the door frame and crossed his arms. “Honestly, why would you think I’d be interested in your diary?”

      “It’s not a diary! And you hid my journal last year!” Rachelle accused her brother while still rummaging through her brother's bookshelves.

      He gave her a look that told her to prove it. “Granted, I’d be happy to read all your girly secrets just so I could tell them to the whole world.” He smiled mischievously, made a pirouette, and raised his arms as if making a grand announcement.

      “Ladies and gentlemen! Come one, come all! Lend me your ears and get ready to hear the reigning queen of St. James Academy, Rachelle Harlow’s deepest secrets!” his voice boomed followed by loud laughter that was meant to irritate his sister.

      Rachelle reacted to that with a snort of disgust.

      He would have preferred a different reaction—like a banshee scream—but since he didn’t get that, he sobered and pretended to think. “Hmmm. Now, that would be a good marketing strategy for Quarter To Five. We'd get more gigs with your secrets as bait. Maybe I should ask Nick. What do you think?” He started laughing again.

      “Oh, shut up. Just tell me where you put it, will you?” She stood up, hands on her hips. She was in her pajamas but her stance made her look like a CEO chastising a lowly rank-and-file. She was tall compared to other girls—five feet eight inches—but her brother was the same height as Nick so it was kind of hard to stare him down. But at least she was doing her best to stare him up.

      She wasn’t able to do it longer than a few seconds though. She knew that if Matt really hid her journal, she would never find it again. Unless of course, some supreme being would miraculously change her brother’s mind. “God! Sometimes, I really hate you!” she gritted out, and looked outside the window to try to analyze her situation.

      “No, God. She doesn’t mean that,” Matt said happily.

      Rachelle abruptly turned back to her brother. “I was talking to you, butthead!”

      “Really, sis. If I have your journal, you’d have all your friends calling you already asking if the rumors in Facebook and Twitter are true,” he told her sister without an ounce of humor.  “Although,” he started grinning. “I probably wouldn’t have posted anything tonight. I have to read everything first and choose the juiciest piece of gossip. At most, I’d have it circling the Web by midn—hey! Watch it!” something that closely resembled his old bedside alarm clock flew and barely missed his left ear.

      A muscle ticked near Matt’s jaw which made Rachelle think that she may have gone too far when she threw that alarm clock.

      “You. Shouldn’t. Have. Done. That,” Matt said in a voice menacingly soft, advancing towards her with every word he just said.

      She dropped her arms on her sides and exhaled. Maybe her brother really didn’t have her journal, after all. “Look, Matt. I’m sorry. It’s just that sometimes you make it so hard for me to recognize when you’re joking and when you’re not,” she paused for a few seconds. “I shouldn’t have thrown that bedside clock.”