The Bad Boy Stole My Diary

The Bad Boy Stole My Diary

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WpMetadataReadConcluida mié, nov 22, 20173h 57m
"I love how innocent you act, but I know you're not." **************************** My dad had given me a simple journal that I thought I'd never use. When I found out he died in a car crash, that next week, I decided to start writing all my feelings in it because I'm not really good at expressing them verbally. My journal was full of decent thoughts... Well some were decent, Until I met Dillon Taylor. He was the cocky, annoying, loud mouthed boy next door that wouldn't turn his music down if the queen of England walked in his room. So one night, I finished my diary entry and fell asleep. I left the window open because it was hot. Bad idea. I heard some fiddling in my room so I turned on my lamp. Only to see that annoying boy from next door's body was halfway out my room window-- with my diary in his hand.
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"H-hey.. You know..." Work brain, work. "What?" he hisses. "Um... I-I think I need my inhaler. It's in the bag," great, nice move. But my hope shatters into pieces when he rummages through my bag instead. "Where the heck did you put it," he asks, or maybe states as he isn't looking at me. "NO. Just give me my freakin' bag. Fast!" I try one last time. And lucky enough, he gives up. He brings the bag to me hastily. I redeem it, throw it back on the 'other side' along with myself. I run for my life. I hear whistles and of course, rainbow of curses, on the other side of the world. Well, I guess I'll just have to return to plan A. ~~~

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