Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
He claps my back as he passes me on his way to the door. “I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”
I tip my chin in acknowledgment, already worrying over what he may or may not find.
Every part of me wants to continue scouring Nora’s diary for some sort of clue. It feels like everything—my mom’s death, Grace’s death, Dad’s radio silence, Nora’s diary—is stacking up like a precariously balanced house of cards. All it would take is one strong blow to send it all crashing down. I just hope I’m able to pick up all of the pieces once they scatter.
Resigned, I force myself up off my stool for another cup of coffee, hoping maybe some more caffeine will kick my brain online.
DIARY ENTRY, AGE 14
Dear Diary,
Mom’s seeing someone. She thinks she’s sneaky and that I’m clueless, but it’s like Dad used to say, I wasn’t born yesterday. She’s been happy and smiling and most telling of all—busy.
She went from only going to work and the grocery store to having plans. Friday night drinks, Saturday lunches, and Sunday brunches. We used to spend our weekends together, as a family, and now I spend them alone.
Which is fine, I guess. It’s not like I’m great company. Maybe Mom doesn’t like sad girls, either.
As much as I want to be mad at her, I’m not. It’s nice to see her smile again. I just wish she’d be honest with me. I’m not a little kid, but she and Ms. Maggie think I’m “emotionally fragile,” which is the freaking dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.
Am I supposed to be all happy and laughy and smiley less than a year after my dad died? It’s funny how it went from “grief isn’t logical” to me being “emotionally fragile.”
But whatever.
I guess she’ll tell me when she’s ready.
Irritated, Nora
Dear Diary,
Mama’s gone again. For the weekend this time. She asked if I could stay with a friend so she could go for a girls’ weekend. I told her yes even though we both know I don’t have any friends.
I guess she doesn’t remember…or is choosing not to.
Luckily, I have a key to the house and the fridge is stocked, so I guess I have the place to myself all weekend.
If my life was a movie or a TV show, I’d throw a big party and everyone would come. It would be some big turning point, and I’d either end up in the cool crowd or a whole heap of trouble.
But it’s not, so I don’t.
Plus, I don’t even have social media to invite anyone anyway.
Looks like I’ll spend the next two days reading the books I picked up after school when I was supposed to be heading to my imaginary sleepover.
It’s getting harder not to be angry, though. How is it everyone’s moving on but me? Why am I the only one still sad? Is this how I’ll be forever? Angry and sad, with eyes that stay red from crying?
I want more for myself. I want friends and to be happy and to have a life of my own one day. But I just… I don’t know how to get there. I don’t know how to move on, and Ms. Maggie doesn’t seem to know how to help me either.
Maybe I’m just broken. Maybe the part of me that knows how to smile died and was buried right alongside my dad.
I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.
Lost, Nora
Dear Diary,
It only took two months, but Mom finally came clean and admitted she’s been seeing someone.
She also told me he’s invited us over for dinner tonight. Way to give a girl some warning. I guess she thought the element of surprise was the way to go. It’s like she doesn’t know me at all anymore.
I’m like Dad—a planner. Always have been. And Mama knows this. She used to joke around and say our need to know and prepare kept her grounded, that without us she’d just float away.
I’ve gotta think a whole lot before I’m ready to do, and her springing this on me with less than an hour before show time is the worst thing she could’ve done.
Well, that’s a lie. The worst would be her bringing him here with no warning. But this is a close second, and it makes me feel like she doesn’t even care.
If Ms. Maggie were here, she’d tell me to make the best of it. Good thing she’s not because I’d tell Ms. Maggie to shove it.
I guess I’ll be back later with all of the gory details. Wish me luck.
Well, diary, I was right. Tonight was a total disaster. Well, not all of it. But most of it. Mostly because of me.
Mom and I argued the whole way there, which made me cry, because we haven’t really fought about anything since before Dad died. Mainly because I’ve gotten so good at biting my tongue.