The Journal of Snookie Z

The First Page

I'm not too excited about starting a new school year. Her name is still echoing ever since her death last month. Her icy blue eyes reflect so clear in my memory. This year, I'm not going to have my best friend by my side. I don't even understand the whole story...

We are cleaning her house out. I volunteered to tackle her bedroom, since I pretty much know where everything goes. Snookie Z's room was always a huge clutter of color. We've been organizing it since the week after her death. I'm exploring the mountains of old telephones and record players when I seek a little notebook, about the size of a small novel.

I've never seen it before, never in my life. The rich, leather cover encourages me to open up to the yellowed pages inside. It must have been an old composition notebook she found at a flea market or something. My eyes begin to glide across the page.

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My name, you must wonder? My name is Samantha Zuff. I'm fourteen, my birthday just passed. I found this little notebook in the attic just above my bedroom. My doctor has been encouraging me to write more... does writing a diary count? I guess it does.

I am the definition of mystery. I'm not liked by many, but only I notice that little quirk in my life. I have been playing basketball since I was two, and acting since I could talk. But those are only the few facts that they know about me. I'm an artist, and I'm not actually fourteen...

They were only off by...maybe five years? I don't even know myself... 

Signed,

Snookie Z