Trying to live #Wattys2024

Chapter 2 (Edited)

Hey wattpaddies!

New chapter for y'all

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Summer Before Junior Year:

Dear Diary,

I am so bored. There's absolutely nothing to do here. Even if I wanted friends in this place, I don't need them. I have plenty of friends at school. Maybe it's because I'm the reigning queen—the Queen of Lakewood Prep. You know, with all the important titles: cheerleader captain, newspaper editor, teacher's favorite, and, of course, the most popular girl.

Yes, I'm popular. But I'm not the mean girl type like in the movies. No, I'm the sweet popular girl that everyone likes. And yeah, I care about my appearance. I still do. Obviously, I didn't tell anyone I'm stuck here for the summer. My mom wouldn't have let me, anyway.

God, I miss my friends so much. But more than anything, I miss my boyfriend. He's my best friend too.

So, here I am, counting down the days until I can finally go back home.

Bye.

Beginning of Junior Year:

Dear Diary,

Well, at least I'm still writing that cheesy line. I'm back. But it doesn't feel like I'm back. It feels like I'm a stranger in my own life. I no longer have my title as the popular girl. Someone has taken it from me. And that someone? A girl I've known my entire life.

I no longer feel like a queen. I feel like a nobody whose friends don't care about her anymore.

The alcohol helps numb some of that. But not all of it.

The only thing it can't fix is the way I feel like a stranger in my boyfriend's arms.

I want to cry, but I've learned that crying doesn't change anything.

Bye.

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Principal Richardson's office hadn't changed since my last visit—last week. The large glass window behind her desk, overlooking the sports field, was still my favorite thing about the room.

I dropped my bag on the floor and sank into the chair, drawing my knees up to my chest. Principal Richardson was on the phone, giving me a chance to stare out the window.

She was fifty years old but still looked like she was thirty. I liked her—or maybe I just liked her office. Her office had become my third home after my actual home and the mansion across from it. Though, lately, I wasn't sure if I could call either place "home" anymore.

I blinked, realizing I was zoning out, watching the lacrosse team practice. My eyes drifted over the field, eventually landing on him.

Even though he didn't play anymore, he still managed to outshine everyone on that field. He was laughing, saying something to his former teammates, his black, unruly curls messier than usual, the sun glinting in his bright emerald-green eyes. He always looked like a character straight out of a novel—fair skin, intense green eyes, and those disheveled curls.

And somehow, just like every other time, he must have felt me watching. His head turned in my direction.

It was creepy how he always knew when I was looking at him, like he had some kind of sixth sense. Honestly, it was annoying. I couldn't even watch him secretly if I wanted to. (Not that I cared now. I didn't.)