Dear Diary

Chapter 9

"Sophia?"

At the sound of her name and a slight shake of her shoulder, the girl jolted awake and looked around startled. She wasn't in her room. She was still in the park. She turned to where she heard the voice and her eyes grew in size when she saw Luke crouching in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he asked concerned and Sophia looked around, realising that the sun had just set and that she had been huddled on the bench. She slowly looked back at him. 

Luke was dressed in a nylon blue shirt and running pants, his light brown hair slightly damp from sweat. He had clearly been for a jog.

Sophia instantly straightened herself to look less helpless, but she panicked when she realised she didn't have her mother's diary in her hands.

"Looking for this?" he asked and held up the yellow book for her to see. She quickly snatched it away from him and held it to her chest, giving him a hard glare. Luke instantly held up his hands. "I didn't read it!"

Her eyes softened only a fraction, but she still clutched it against her. It wasn't even her diary, but she suddenly felt very protective of it. It was the only thing she had of her mother, and she didn't want anyone to think of taking it away from her.

Noticing that she wouldn't give up the hostile attitude, Luke stood and stepped back a few paces. "Sorry," he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"

Sophia looked up at the darkening sky. 

"I have to go," she said sternly and stood, ever so slightly flinching from the loud cracks her stiff back made. Why did she always seem to fall asleep while reading this diary?

"Do you need me to walk you home?" Luke asked politely. Sophia felt like glaring at him again, but this time kept her face disciplined. Did he not notice her bike?

"No," she blatantly declined as she grabbed her helmet and gloves, leaving him standing there as she marched towards her bike. She tucked the diary in her bag and fastened her helmet and gloves before leaving, not sparing him another glance.

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"Alright class, let's start with the bad news, shall we?" Mr Tuttle said and the class sent wary glances his way. "There will be a test this Friday on everything that we have covered this week," he stated and the class groaned.

My jaw threatened to drop and I felt like crying. A test? Already? 

"Now for the good news," Mr Tuttle smiled. How can there be good news regarding a maths test? "Those whose marks are not up to standard ..." Mr Tuttle discretely glanced my way and I ducked my head, ears burning. Did anyone just see that? "will be tutored by the top students in the class."

A tutor? I guess that isn't too bad. My mom has wanted me to get a tutor for sometime, but we just didn't have money for private tuition. The school does offer after-school tutoring, but I never went. It's embarrassing going and asking for help. Besides, I would be too scared of what people would think of me if I asked a question. Just because I did well in the earlier grades did not mean that I still do now.

However, if I was assigned a tutor, it meant more time spent with some stranger and that horrible, good-for-nothing textbook. It's not like what I'm going to do one day has any maths in it anyway. This whole subject is a waste of my time and brain cells ... lots of brain cells.

"This is Mr Robertson's idea and all us maths teachers agree with him," Mr Tuttle continued. "There will be a maths test at the end of every week to see how you are progressing. Also, please study for these as it will all help you for your finals."

Finals were so far away. Do they really think that someone like me, with the memory of a flea, will remember what she learnt from the second day of school? Not to mention that the big dance in June, which is six months away, will distract everyone the closer it gets. Some people, like Betty, have already planned everything down to the last second.

I glanced at Anne to see her shrug her shoulders in acceptance. She's always had a work ethic I've envied. First day of school and she's already working on projects due weeks away. With me, no matter how much I plan beforehand, something always goes wrong resulting in me pulling an all-nighter the night before it's due.

I sighed as Mr Tuttle told us to open our books to the allocated page and began teaching.

I just can't wait for this year to end.

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Sophia rolled her shoulders as she closed the diary and placed it in her backpack next to her feet. Mr Evans was still setting up papers on his desk and she didn't look at Luke when he sat down next to her.

"Hey," he greeted, but she ignored him and crossed her arms over her chest. 

She didn't know what he thought of her now that he found her passed out on a park bench, but she knew that she didn't want him to think her weak or worse: pry into her life.

Her eyes widened slightly at the thought. She sounded just like her mom. Her mom also never liked to look weak. Her posture relaxed as she thought about her. She also loved ice-cream. Sophia knew that obsession came from someone, but just didn't know from whom.

"Sophia?"

Sophia snapped back to the present to see all eyes focused on her. 

"Yes?" she asked, a hint of impatience in her voice.

"When and where did the Second World War start?" Mr Evans all but glared at her and Sophia held his gaze with her own expressionless one. 

Amateur.

"First of September 1939 when Germany invaded Poland," she replied without hesitating and saw his eyes widen a little in surprise. 

He didn't have to know that at one of her previous schools, they drilled this war into them so that they could explain it backwards. She knew all the facts, her excellent memory locking them into her brain.

"Correct," Mr Evans muttered and turned back to the front, shoulders slumped in slight defeat from not being able to catch her out for not paying attention in class. 

Sophia leaned back in her seat as the rest of the class returned their attention to the front.

Although, there were many things that she had in common with her mother, she was still quite different to her. She had the confidence and memory power. Confidence, she guessed, from her military-like training from a young age but the memory? It was hard to train that which meant it was genetic. It was good to know that she was such a good mix of her parents.

Another thing she noticed about this diary was that she was finding out more about her father too.

Most people would think that because Sophia met her father, she would actually know him, but she didn't. She hardly knew anything about his personality - other than he was a complete robot who only loved her mom. She didn't know his likes, dislikes, and hobbies. Sophia will finally find out more about him through this book.

It was an opportunity she has waited eighteen years for, and there was no way she would let it pass.