Thursday, Oct. 12

Thursday, Oct. 12

  

  Dear diary,

  “He’ll come get you after school,” Mom had said during breakfast earlier this day. “There’s no getting out of this so shut it.” She added as the mutinous color in my cheek rose.

Yeah. She was right. As I write this now, with trembling fingers, I realized that I should’ve known she was right. He came. Dad was right on time.