Entry Two

June,15,2009


    Dear Diary,
    I think I figured out the answer to why someone would sign their name in their own diary. To make sure it really was them who wrote that entry, not some imposter. Not someone who would try and play a trick on them, to make them think something happened to them on a certain day that never really happened. I know that, that sounds crazy but in all reality it really isn’t. Let’s say I were to fall out of a tree, and forgot everything. Someone would want me to read my diary just to see if it would help jog some memories or something. I wouldn’t want to trust something without my name under it because I wouldn’t really be sure if it was my memory or not. Okay, never mind, maybe that is a bit crazy. But it makes perfect sense to me and that’s all that matters right?
     Wait, why am I asking you questions in the first place? You can’t talk or magically write an answer back to me. Like Tom Riddles Diary in Harry Potter. Ha, that would be the best day ever, you would you be like my secret friend. Though that’s what you are now, aren’t you?
    I think I have enough strength to finish the story from yesterday now though. Where did I leave off though? Oh okay, I just figured it out:
May, 31, 2009:
    “Goodnight.”
And with that I walked out of the living room into the hallway that led to my room. �"see I flipped back a page so I could have it just right. Smart huh?- My room was dark and I couldn’t see anything. I remember falling over things until I was able to reach my dresser and light the lone candle that sat on the top. I found a pair of navy blue sweats and a grey hooded sweatshirt. When I saw what the sweatshirt read I wanted to cry all over again, she lives for dance. My mother had bought it as a congratulations gift for getting into Julliard.
The rain was beginning to pick up it’s pace again, and I found myself crawling up onto my bed and drifting off to sleep.
Next thing I knew I was waking up with a jump, was someone trying to break into our house?
I grabbed my Ballet bag, -it may not seem like much to you, but that thing weighed a ton-, and began to walk towards the living room.
“Damn it George,” I heard my father whisper harshly into the phone; I guess the power had returned. “How could you do this to her, it has been her dream to go to Julliard since she was a child. Dancing is her life. How dare you take that away from her? I told you that you would get what you wanted next month.” There was a short pause and I heard dad exhale. “I know I was supposed to have it to you yesterday, but it just wasn’t done. It almost is know, please just continue paying for her to go. I would just love it if she could wake up in the morning and find out it was all just a mistake. That her scholarship hadn’t gone anywhere.”
I couldn’t help but drop to my knees and begin to cry. I hadn’t earned anything; I never earned the scholarship it was just my dad paying someone off. It was never because of my talent, now I felt furious. Everything he had ever told me was a lie. How could my own father do this to me?
Somehow, someway I found the strength to get off of the ground and confront my dad.
“Dad?” I could feel the breeze from where he turned around so abruptly.
I remember that his eyes were wide with shock, and no one said anything for a good five minutes. Finally dad must have remembered that he was on the phone, and it was obvious I wasn’t supposed to hear anything that I had because dad tried to cover himself. “Um, bye mom. Love you.”
He hung the phone up. “Sorry honey. Is there anything wrong?”
“How could you?” was all I could say.
“Excuse me?” My father wasn’t a very good actor.
I took a step toward the man that I had always adored. “How could you lie to me about how I got the scholarship? How could you let me go to school on someone else’s money?”
“Honey that’s what a scholarship is someone else paying for you to attend school. You earned that fair and square.”
“You’re lying. I just heard you on the phone.”
“That was my mother. You have no idea what you’re saying? Are you sick?”
“No I’m fine. You’re the one that is sick! You’re such a horrible liar, your mother died five years ago dad! If you remember correctly or are you on some sort of drug that makes you forget?” I found myself yelling.
“Oh.” Was all my dad could say, he knew I was right. “Kelsey, I’m sorry. I knew how much yo…”
“No don’t even bother!” I snapped. “I hate you! Stay out of my life!”
“Kelsey, please just listen to me.” He was practically begging me to listen.
“No, I am going to earn a scholarship on my own.” I started to stomp off towards the door. “I am going to do it all on my own.”
Sorry, I’m getting choked up again. Man, it’s later than last night 4:55 a.m. I’ll try to finish the story tomorrow night.

Sincerely,
     Kelsey
P.S. Why do I lose track of time when I write?

Author's Note

The spacing came out weird in this, like in the actual draft I have everything is indented like its supposed to be. But please tell me what you think I could do to make this better.

Reviews

[LostinKristina]

Taylor, the thing was to write it as diary entries.

[Taylor H.]

I felt this chapter jumped around, went a little too fast and had some details left out. i also think this would be better as a story and not diary entries but thats just my opinion.