Behind the Bad Boy

10.

The book in this story is one that I found in my bookshelf that I have yet to read. I don't know what it's about, but I don't own it. All the rights go to Sarah Ockler. The book is called The Book of Broken Hearts.

"What do you mean, your taking away Netflix?" I shout at my parents. Ben watches in amusement. "First you take my freedom, now you're taking my sanity! What's next? Food? Water? Oxygen?"

"Stop being a drama queen." Mom says. "You snuck out and now you are stuck in school suspension for two weeks."

"Shouldn't that be punishment enough?" I demand.

"That's punishment for skipping. This is punishment for suspension. Go to your room." Dad cuts in.

"I hate both of you!" I yell before storming upstairs. Bear runs next to me. I slam my door and lock it. Bear lays with me as I fume, but just sitting here and not curing my anger is seriously not helping.

I pace naked around my room, the blinds drawn.

I don't have a phone either. All I get to leave my room for is food and taking Bear out.

I don't even get my phone.

I go digging through my bookcase.

They can't take books. If they do I'll report them to child services. That's fucking child abuse.

No Netflix is child abuse, I think bitterly.

I grab a random book from the shelf and fall onto my bed. Bear lays on my naked chest and I open up to the first page and begin to read.

Chapter 1

The law of probability states that a girl with three older sisters should inherit at least one pair of cute shorts that actually fit. Agreed?

That's an interesting thought...if I had three older sisters; I'd be expecting at least a pair of cute shorts...

Something tells me that I wouldn't get them though.

I go back to reading.

Bzzz! Thank you for playing! Please try again.

If these things could talk, they'd be all, Hi. We're Araceli's old cutoffs! And I'd go, Congrats on fulfilling your destiny, because you cut of circulation to the vital female organs! High fives!

Actually, they were so tight up in there that if they could talk, it would sound more like, Umph mph mph hrmm.

What?

Exactly.

I keep reading for a bit, and then I get bored.

I put a candy wrapper in the book for my bookmark because it's the first thing I can find and I would never fold down the pages to a book.

I stand up and pull on panties and a bra and blue spandex and a white camisole.

If I can just find my iPod charger, I can get to electronics and then I can watch Netflix on an app.

I start going through stuff, looking desperately for that charger. Clothes and shoes and random objects fly out from my closet as I dig.

My hand hits something hard.

Frowning, I grab it and see a pink book with the words Five Year Diary on the front.

My old diary!

It was one of those stupid books with the lock on it. I remember I thought I saw so cool because I had one.

I used to write in this thing every single day. Maybe I'll start doing that again.