Page 1, 2019-3-28
Dear Diary,
So, my name's Shelby. Aaaand my aunt got me this fluffy pink thing for my birthday, and I have to pretend like I'm actually going to use this. Well, at least until she goes home. She's kind of sitting here watching TV, so I guess we'll be here for a while. I'll tell you a little more about myself. My full name is Rai Shelby Henderson (I know, right?). My best friends' names are Natalie, Mia, Ashleyna (we call her Ash), and Audrey. These are the main people I hang out with, coincidentally they are also the only people I can even stand as of late. I don't have time for popularity, parties, or boys. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. My parents are pretty laid back because honestly, the only person they need to worry about is my heathen of a little sister. Her name is Daina (pronounced day-nuh), and she is a BRAT. Last night as she was doing 'an art project', AKA making a huge mess out of all of the artsy things we own, she PURPOSELY POURED PAINT ON MY HEAD. Like, who does that? Then she tried to make me look like the bad guy, and "told on me" about how I was 'bullying' her and saying this and that. So, naturally, I got the blame and was grounded from basically everything. Except for this diary. Joy. Anyway, it's 6 o'clock, so our dinner should be here shortly. Bye for now.
I closed the book and sniffed the air. It's Sunday night, so we should be having pasta for dinner. By the scent hanging in the air, it was Alfredo. Meh. The G cooks have gross Alfredo sauce, so I usually only eat as much as I have to so the big guys don't get suspicious. Sighing, I strutted out of the living room with my stunning gray sweatshirt and faded blue pajama pants. I plopped down at the dinner table in my fitted chair. In this City, our factories produce furniture, so we get the nicest things. The other Cities don't have it as good. For example, the last City to be built only gets pretty plates. No matter what you put on it, you're still covering it in The Government's slop.
"Shelby, could you set the table?" Chimed my mother from the kitchen. I could hear her adding things to our meals. Spices, more sauce, just some things our family likes in our food.
"Sure." I answered, and fetched the cups, paper plates and plastic utensils from their homes in our cabinets and drawers. As I placed a total of 4 things on the table in front of each chair, I hummed my favorite song of all of the variety The G provides for us. How many, you ask? Well, a whopping 10 songs, I answer! Yeah, there's not much, but we would all forget the songs if they gave us any more. Of course it's always good for new things to happen, new sounds, new objects, new food... but The G rarely gives us anything of the sort. The last new thing we got was when I was a baby, and it wasn't even anything good. It was information, or at least that's what I was told. Mom said the only thing they said as they handed me to her after my birth was the words Jah'i naek lo, which roughly translates to she will be. Considering that made no sense, and she was a little shaken up from the last few hours, she just decided not to care about what it might mean. Which is fine, I don't completely trust everyone that work at hospitals. Seriously, who signs up to see blood and gore all day? Think about it.
The rest of my family strolled in all at once as I placed a single plate for myself and returned all of the extras. We all sat down at the same time, in our rightful chairs, (except for Aunt M, who lowered herself into the unfitted guest chair) just as Mother opened the kitchen door bearing a large bowl filled to the top with white sludge-covered noodles. Crinkling my nose, I held my breath as I ate.
^^^^
