So I had my party. Maybe I'll go into more detail on that later. But I found out the secrets I needed to.
I finally was able to look at some torn-up paper. The secrets. So here they are.
Issabelle has a scar from being in a car crash when she was in middle school. No one ever noticed that year that she was limping and had to quit the cheer squad.
Sarah's boyfriend broke up with her and started dating her sister.
Rosie's parents are not her real parents. She was adopted.
Minnie has six grandparents. Her mom and dad are divorced, and her mom, who she lives with, got remarried.
Ashley's shocked me. She's pregnent with her boyfriend's twins.
Leslie shops at the bargin store for clothes.
May is failing in art. And in relationships. She had three boyfriends in a month.
Elsie wears cheap make-up.
And I don't want to believe Elenora's. That she's got only one year left to live.
Okay, I know now that my pesky little sister Rebecca is up to something. She asked me what I was doing, and sneeked a peek over my shoulder to see my journal. That means she's up to something. And now she's writing in a journal of her own. Not a lot, but enough to make me suspicious.
I know I should really write about the party. Maybe I'll do that on the bus tomorrow morning. All I have to say is that I kinda lied about Ashley's secret. She's not really pregnent. I just made that up because I lost her slip of paper and I thought that that would make a good story.
Anyway, I learned something this morning. I know I won't want to remember this in collage or when I'm thirty, but I might as well write it down. I learned our non-stick pan really is non-stick. I was cooking a sunny side up egg. I tilted the pan a little to move the egg. And boy, did it move! It slid right off the pan and on to the floor. It also flipped, so it landed on the wet yolk, which exploded all over the floor.
I of course had to clean up my mess. Rebecca and Timmy sat there laughing their heads off at the table. But I couldn't manage to find the humor in this.
I than had to skip breakfast, rush upstairs to get dressed, and peacticly missed the bus. I'll just say now that today was another one of those terrible days.
Ms. Borkman yelled at me again today. I bought a new calculator and I've been doing my homework. Today, though, when she came around collecting the homework sheet, I, and only I, couldn't find it. So I had to take a zero.
In art class, Ms. Meyers had us making clay pots. When I went to make mine, I broke the pottery wheel. So I had to take another zero and I won a lunch detention.
In ELA I even did bad. Mrs. Cassidy gave me a fifty on my writing composition. She said it lacked specific details and only touched on half of what it was supposed to.
And I managed to also lose my lunch, my lunch money, and get a weekend detention.
I still can't figure out how one person can manage to mess up so much in only twelve periods.
I now have to write about my sleepover party. It was fun. Here's what happened.
I'm at my sleepover. I think that this may actually work. No one suspects a thing about what I'm going to do. Me, Elenora, and Isabelle all hung out in one corner of the room while the movie was on. We talked a little and played games like throwing up popcorn and trying to catch it in our mouths. I had picked out a short movie to play first. When it was over, I decided to play my game.
"Come in, everyone. Were going to play the secrets game!"
Most of them were pretty excited. I handed out paper and everyone got to work writing out a secret. They folded them up and dumped them in the hat.
"Okay, let's see what our big secret will be."
I stuck my hand in, which was holding the fake paper, pretended to swish around in the hat, than pulled my hand out.
"My biggest secret is...I have fingernail extensions."
Anna started to go a little pale.
"Rebecca."
Murmurs broke out around the room.
"Who's Rebecca?"
"I didn't know there was a Rebecca Here!"
"Hey, where's this Rebecca girl?"
"Everyone, calm down. I'm sorry, my sister Rebecca had a sleepover a few weeks ago and she played this game too. I guess it just fell in by accident. Oh well, I guess we're done with that game. How about sharades?"
Everyone followed me over to the sharades table. So far, I was safe.
That night, everyone got camped out in their sleeping bags in the basement while I went upstairs to clean up. Now all I have to do is read them.
And I did. I'll start my fantastic, wonderful story soon. At least I hope I will.
I think my sisters nuts. She has always been smarter than me, but Rebecca and her weirdness are really starting to scare me. She's writing in that notebook so much now that she doesn't really stop. I'm finally out of school now; they don't offer summer school, but if they did I would be in it. And so is Rebecca. Trapped in her own private writing, reading, and studying.
I think she's trying to write the next great American novel. She is sweet though, when she walks up to me and asks me to read a little story of hers and tell her if it's any good. If I were one of those ruthless sisters, who hated, absolutely hated their sister, I would have told her that it was absolute junk and deserved to be thrown in a can the first time she showed one to me.
I wonder, does a good sentence actually has to have seven words. Could it be four? Like the sentence I just wrote? I think it may not be possible, because there is no detail in that. Maybe I should start adding more detail to my stories. That could help flesh them out, but I also need more ideas.
Story:
Lizzie Chase was walking home from school one day. She thought that day was probably the most perfect day ever. Her lifelong crush had asked her out to prom. How could she say no? Easily. OF course, though, that would ruin her entire life. So of course she said yes! And now she had a date with Brendan Michaels!
Okay. I know that one may be a bit over the top with happy! Happy! Happy! But come on, it was the best I could do in like five minutes. There wasn't much better anyone could do that fast except to write a poem. And a corny on at that. But at least I think, I think, mom always corners me on that one, when I present a fact that I'm not totally sure about, and then I don't say I think. Than when she tells me I'm wrong, she says I would have been right if I just said I think. But anyway, I think my story conveyed the emotion of Lizzie enough.
Maybe I should explain why so many of my characters are named Liz, Lizzie, or another nickname for Elizibeth. That's because my best friend, Betty, is named Elizibeth. And I like to base these silly, unimportant characters on her. I guess it's because I love her. Oh my goodness, did I really just say that?
Maybe I should base characters on Rebecca and Timmy. Timmy's still only like, maybe five? and would make a good sidekick, or a nice, comical character to make a serious story funny. Rebecca, on the other hand, would obviously be the basis for my villain. She and I obviously don't get along.
Maybe I should start my best-selling book about now...
