I Hear Voices

    My eyes peeled open, sticky with tears. Struggling to see against the dark, I saw that the time was 2:08. I groaned, and rolled to my other side. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to get back to sleep. No luck. There was a faint echo in my ear, quieter than a whisper. I covered my ears with my pillow, but I could still hear it.
     Do you think she can hear us? a tiny voice said.
     Shush, she probably can. another said, irritated.
     Can I give her it now?
      Not now. Later.

      And then it was quiet.



    ~*~


     I woke up, a bright stream of light coming through my window. The sun was up in the blue sky, and it was telling me good morning. Birds tweeted outside my window, singing songs. I groaned, and closed my window. Damn nature. I half blindly undressed, then pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans with a tear in the left knee. After pulling on a 'I Heart Nerds' t-shirt, I went into the kitchen, pouring myself a bowl of cereal.
     Crunching slowly, I thought about the divorce. As a little girl, I never thought my parents would separate. Even though most of the time they fought, I assumed marriages are forever and ever. How wrong I was.
      Dumping my bowl and spoon into the sink, I flopped on the couch, turning on the television to watch some cartoons. It was that yellow sponge character on, and I was too lazy to change the channel. I laughed at the mindless humor, because it made me feel less sad.
      I spent the afternoon watching TV, playing video games on the computer, and rehearsing my script. My performance was at eight o'clock, so I had plenty of time. I looked around for my good luck bracelet, that helped me win my track meet in 7th grade. I remembered that Chris had "borrowed" it for his championship football game. Men.  I knocked on Chris' door.
      "Chris! Are you in there?" I asked. No answer. I creaked the door open. His room was a complete mess, even messier than mine. Clothes scattered everywhere, dirty plates on the desk, and a lampshade without its lamp on the floor. The whole place reeked of pot. But no Chris. My necklace was on the desk, next to his laptop. I picked it up, and clipped it around my neck. Looking around, I noticed a leather-bound book poking out of the bookshelf.
        Being the nosy little sister I am, I pulled the book from its place. Opening it to the first page, in Chris' surprisingly neat handwriting read 'Journal.' I knew that a journal was actually a diary, and that name was just to sound less girly. I giggled. Chris kept a diary? Blackmail time. I flipped to the first entry, dated eight years ago, when he was eleven.  I expected something about a cute girl, or how mean his teacher is. But instead I got this:
   
          April 11, 2002
     
      Mom was being mean to me, because I had mentioned something about Melody's adoption. Mel had been saying,
       "Mommy? Why didn't I get your pretty blonde hair? Why do I have black hair?" Mom had said she didn't know.
       "Liar," I had said. Mom turned to me.
       "Christopher Willhorn Clarke, did you just call me a liar?" she demanded, her face all big and mad.
        "Well it's true! You know that you're not her real-" Mom covered my mouth with her hand.
        "That I'm not her real hair color, you mean? Thats right, because I'm blonde," she said. I was mad. I didn't mean to say that. I meant to say,"because you're not her real mom." Why is she so freaking obsessed with keeping that secret. Melody is adopted, big whoop. I just hope Melody doesn't freak out when she finds out like 20 years later like they do in the movies.

           I shut the diary. Adopted? I shook my head in denial. How could I possibly be adopted? They're baby pictures of me in the photo album. I remember playing with my dad when I was 6. But not one memory of foster homes. Surely Chris had been mistaken? I sighed, and shook it away from my mind. Putting the book back, I walked out of his room, closing the door gently behind me. My performance is in one hour, and I should get ready.

Author's Note

Thanks for waiting out the delay.

Reviews

[roarke]

This chapter seems like an insert. Stream line the opening part before you get to the journal/diary.

The diary doesn't sound like a boy would write it and it doesn't sound like a diary, more like a novelist wrote it. Be more informal. Also, we don't know much about Chris, so maybe mel could hopscotch through a couple pages first, revealing her brother a little more to the reader and then BAM! the adoption thing as a kicker....

Just a suggestion, (see my over view at the end) this is a great story, it's workin' girl.

[Daydreamer54]

Can I give her it now?
You could say, "Can I give it to her now?' Wow, Shocker! she's adopted! well can't wait to see how her paren's will react when she tells them she knos!

[Livana Lowell]

Hmmm, adopted? Intresting.

You have a lot passive sentences. On your editing, remember to revise sentences using "was" and "is" as the verb.

Anyways, wonderful job. Hope you continue.