The Journal

  “Yes. I had to take a history test—history of the founding of the USNA. Boring stuff, really. I’m not sure why they want us to know it all!”

  “Oh, but that is interesting stuff.” Of course she’d think it was interesting—it happened in her life time.

  Before she could go into a lecture on the 2030s, I muttered, “Umm, sure,” rolling my eyes. “It’s all about politics. Politics isn’t interesting.”

  “Yes, but do you know why it was formed?”

  “Yes,” I say with another eye roll. Didn’t she hear me say that I had a test on it? Of course, I didn’t say if I passed or failed. I had passed, if barely.

  I answered the question on the table, “It’s because all three countries, Canada, The United States, and Mexico were concerned about competing against Asia in trading.”

  “Yes, but it was so much more than that. Without the merge, the United States was facing falling at the feet of their enemies because their debt was just too large to continue. Did you know once upon a time the biggest political issue in this country was immigrants from Mexico? Mexico had the people resources, The United States had the jobs, and Canada had the natural resources. By working together, they would be able to create a better nation. Or at least that was the idea.”

  “Hmmm, yeah, I’m not sure that worked. I mean, we’re living in small apartments not sprawling houses like every family had back then, right?”

  “Well, many did. I guess you could say that things are more equally distributed these days. At least the misery is.”

  After dinner, I went back to my room. Grandma cleaned up the kitchen, and settled down to one of her choose-her-own adventures. There were some that I liked better than others even though I thought they were all a waste of time, and the ones that Grandma liked were the most boring of the lot. The characters weren’t even interesting to watch in a train wreck kind of way.

  I went straight to Beth’s journal.

  November 5, 2001

  It has been an uneventful week. I’m glad that Mom and I have settled into a new normal, but I hate that it was needed.

  When I was hanging out with Dad Sunday afternoon, he asked me what I wanted to do for Thanksgiving. This is the first time anyone had ever asked me my thoughts on any holiday. I guess I was always just a kid, but now I’m a kid of separated parents. What a fun title.

  I wouldn’t be given the choice of how to celebrate if Mom and Dad were still together. I told him I wanted us all together, but he just gave that smile that adults have when a child tells them what Santa is going to bring them, usually with a “that’s nice” and a pat on the head. Is my family being together again such a fairy tale? Is my belief that it could really happen just a child’s dream? Am I too young to know any better? After all, they were married for 24 years...certainly you couldn’t last that long in a marriage if you didn’t love each other, right? Can you really fall out of love with someone? Why isn’t love forever?

  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about truth. What does it mean when something is true? It probably started when I read this verse:

  “And you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” - John 8:32

  I had heard the saying before, but I had no idea it was from the Bible. Since it’s in the Bible, perhaps it doesn’t mean what I’ve always heard about it: that venting is okay because it frees you. This must mean something about God’s truth, I think. I’m going to have to ask Pastor Steve about this one.

  But what else could it mean? The truth about me was known—that I was a flooze—but did that make me free? No, I was trapped in my memory, even more than I was before.

  I turned out my light, turned up the volume on my music, and cried myself to sleep.

  Saturday I woke up later than I anticipated, at 11:00. I had hoped to make it in to work by 10:00, but I had slept through my alarm. Once awake, I dressed and left, heading to the one part of my life that was not a mess, or at least was a mess I could do something about.

  As I walked into Millennial Antiques, I breathed in that welcoming air. Hasan greeted me with a smile over the head of a customer. I headed to the back of the store, where the 2010s books were. I was motivated to organize them as the next section I would get to work on was my favorite.

  After I had worked for four hours, I straightened up my mess and stacked the still misplaced books on a cart. I went up to the front of the store where I found Hasan customer-free for only the second time since I’d arrived.

  “Hey, Hasan...thank you for being so understanding Thursday.”

  “No problem, Sweetie. I understand what it feels like to need to escape. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  “Not really. Well, actually, yes, but not about Thursday. I was wondering if I could pick out my next book.”

  “Oh, of course! What did you have in mind?”

  “Actually, I was wondering if you had a Bible.”

  “Oh, a Bible, huh?”

  “Yes. The girl who wrote the journal sometimes quotes it, and it makes me want to read it myself. I know that it used to be really important to many people. I mean, I live in what used to be a good-sized church. I’m sure they were Bible owners, or at least many of them would have been. But for whatever reason, I can’t seem to find it anywhere, not on the net, or anywhere in my apartment building.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have a Bible. I might be able ask around for you and come up with it. Would you like to pick out something else for now, and we’ll see if I can line up a Bible for your next pick?”

  The thought of continuing to earn books made me smile. Still, I answered, “No, I’m content to wait to see what you come up with.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Yes...have a great weekend, Hasan.”

  I started a sleepy Sunday morning with my new favorite activity.

  November 6, 2001

  I can’t believe it. I’ve been waiting for a long time for a guy of my dreams to ask me out. And it finally happens.

  While I’ve had a crush on Jason for a while now, it hasn’t been very consuming. I mean, everything else has more than distracted me. So while I had wondered if there was something more behind Jason’s teasing, I didn’t really expect him to act upon it. But he did.

  Just after history class he pulled me aside—usually I would have been with Faith, but she had left class early to participate in a blood drive—and asked me to dinner Friday night.

  I actually said, “We’ll see” before walking away. What a dork. But really, I couldn’t say yes. I can’t understand why my parents’ love can’t last. I can’t imagine walking down that road myself. It seems like it just leads to broken hearts.

  So a few minutes ago I made the hard call. I called Jason and told him I was flattered, but no. I tried to make it clear (when I wasn’t stumbling over my words) that it had nothing to do with him. If I were to go on a date with anyone I would want it to be with him, but I’m just not ready for that. I may never be.

  I decided to stop reading right there. Talking about boys was just a little too uncomfortable after everything that has happened. Instead, I turned my attention to a Law and Order marathon. The series may be 100 years old, but I love watching old TV, imagining that I was living back then.

  As the suspect in my third Law and Order episode of the day was about to go to trial, I received a chip. Since my fallout with Ryan, I’ve rarely had anyone to chip with, so when it beeped, it actually startled me.

  hey mally

  Faltering

  Even if my chip hadn’t told me it was Sebastian sending the message, I would have known it was from him, as he was the only person who has ever called me, “Mally.”

  I just let the chip sit there, and was tempted to dismiss it. I hit delete, but when I was asked if I was sure, I couldn’t respond. My chip asked again, and I said, “No.” I wasn’t sure.

  I knew he must have heard about what happened that night in Jamari’s ap
artment though he wasn’t in Ms. Oscar’s class. I’m not dumb enough to believe that the story hadn’t gotten to him. There were probably half a dozen people itching to tell him about his promiscuous ex-girlfriend—or whoever I was to him.

  Still, it was Sebastian, the boy I crushed on for almost a year before we got together. The boy who could always make me smile—when he wanted to—and whose kisses would make every cell within me tingle.

  I waited another minute in indecision before typing, “hey.” I hit send before I had a chance to change my mind. The response was immediate.

  wanna hang out

  The lack of a question mark was likely an indication that Sebastian didn’t consider it a question, not just poor grammar. He never really asked me anything but just told me what he had already decided we were going to do.

  Part of me wanted to quickly quip something biting, but nothing of the sort came to mind. Another part of me wanted to quickly write back, “Yes, please, come over right now!” I hadn’t realized how strong my feelings still were for Sebastian until that moment.

  Instead, I silently typed, “What about Kinsley?”

  Sebastian: what about her

  Amala: aren’t u back with Kinsley?

  Sebastian: what does that matter to u

  Amala: well, if ur with her, i don’t wanna talk 2 u

  Sebastian: really

  Sebastian: that’s strange

  Sebastian: u will do the nasty with a stranger, but u won’t talk to ur good friend

  Of course. What he had heard about me made him jealous. After all, I would never do anything more than kiss him. He often called me a prude, but I held my ground. I just wasn’t comfortable doing more with him at the time.

  I definitely wouldn’t be considered a prude anymore.

  I didn’t have anything more to say, and was ready to end the conversation there, but Sebastian wasn’t done.

 

  Sebastian: come over

 

  At that moment, I knew I would do it, even though I didn’t want to. I was already past the point of no return. I should never have answered his chip.

  Amala: no thank u

  Sebastian: “thank u” r u still trying to be miss goody 2 shoes

 

  Again, I had nothing to say to that. After a couple more minutes of pleading from him, I caved. I left the apartment and entered the address that came so easily to mind into the pod.

  Arriving at Sebastian’s brought back a flood of memories. When we were together, we would often hang out there, as he lived with his dad who was rarely home. There was no annoying brother to pester us and no mom who could be home at any minute like at my apartment.

  Sebastian’s father had a high-paying position in the government, which afforded them a larger place than most 2-person families. My mother—like most adults—also worked for the government, but she was low on the chain of command and pay. Sebastian and his father were assigned to live in a spacious two-floor condo. Inside, Sebastian had the second floor all to himself including his own bathroom. Sebastian even had his own little living area up there, where we would hang out on his beat-up couch.

  As I walked to the door, it opened, anticipating my arrival. Sebastian called out from upstairs for me to join him. He never was one to formally welcome me to his home.

  My heart pounded louder and louder as I took each step. As I looked down at my hands, I saw that they were shaking as I tried to dry them off on my pants. I hadn’t bothered to change or even wash my face before I left the house, so as I walked by the mirror at the top of the stairs, I saw a tired, worn-down little girl, hair going every which way, dressed in a dull brown that muted her features.

  I stepped through the entryway into Sebastian’s living area and saw that he was tuned out on his couch. As I sat down next to him, he let out a nonchalant “hey.”

  “Hi,” I replied shyly, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

  I saw his eyes zone back into the moment as he shut off his video feed. He reached over and puts his arm around me. “What’s up?”

  “Umm, just came over because you asked me to. What’s going on? Is it over between you and Kinsley?”

  Though I wanted Sebastian’s attention, I didn’t want it if he was going to turn right back to Kinsley.

  “Well, it’s, you know, fine. Whatever,” Sebastian said with a dismissive gesture. “That was just her that I was chipping. She’s visiting her grandma in the mountains with her family this weekend.”

  “Oh,” I sighed, clearly disappointed. If Sebastian saw it, he didn’t let on.

  Then Sebastian did what I hadn’t expected, though I probably should have. Instead of continuing our conversation, he leaned over me and started heavily kissing me. I went along, simultaneously wanting and hating it, longing both for the moment to last and to end.

  As he reached to take off my shirt, I put my hand on his to stop him. I couldn’t do this. He was reluctant to stop, but he did, swearing under his breath.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked me, as if it he assumed he had the right to continue.

  I just looked at him. Even when we were together—or I thought we were—I wouldn’t let him go that far. And we’ve only been here together for five minutes. Plus, there was Kinsley. How did he not realize this?

  “I can’t do this. I don’t want to.”

  “That’s not what it felt like to me,” he said, reaching to kiss me again. After he saw I wasn’t changing my mind, he tried a different tactic. “Oh, come on, why would you be with that old dude and not me? I know you like me.” Sebastian completed his argument with his conquering smile.

  And with that, I succumbed to temptation, a decision I regretted every second.

  As I went back home, I tried to get my heart to settle down. I couldn’t believe what I did, and with a loser like Sebastian. Yes, there were still feelings there, but he clearly wasn’t as into me as I once thought he was, if he wasn’t serious enough to end it with Kinsley.

  I was tempted to write a chip to Kinsley and let her know what a fool she was for being with a two-timer. But I was afraid all I’d get in return is more gossip about me and with the added title of “bitter ex-girlfriend.” After all, Sebastian would clearly deny anything I said about what happened, and my own words wouldn’t have much worth. As much as I disliked Kinsley, I didn’t want Sebastian to be able to fool another girl.

  Distracted, I picked up Beth’s journal. I wanted to escape, and 2001 sounded like an excellent place to go. I took comfort in the thought that in 2001, Sebastian was still decades away from being born.

  November 8, 2001

  It’s finally starting to get cold here in North Carolina. The trees are turning all sorts of pretty shades: yellow, orange, and red. I just hope that Mom won’t make me rake up all the leaves since Dad isn’t here to do it.

 

  I forgot that this area used to be covered with trees. Now you can only find them in parks, and there aren’t a whole lot of those.

 

  I’m afraid things around here ARE becoming a new kind of normal. I hate that Dad is gone, and feel like most conversations between Mom and me are rather forced these days. Meg hasn’t been by the house in weeks, and she doesn’t answer her phone when I call. I don’t know what is going on with her, or if she’s just trying to avoid the whole thing.

  November 10, 2001

  Yesterday and today were both scary days at school. During third period, we were required to evacuate the building. At first, I thought it was just a fire drill—though we had just had one two weeks earlier. I could tell by the look on Mrs. Jordan’s face that it wasn’t though she had no idea what was going on. Turns out, there had been a bomb threat. We had to wait outside at the football field—my class sat on the track picking at the spongy surface—while the SWAT team and bomb-sniffing dogs came through and gave the all clear. I’m glad that they didn’t find anything.

  If the bomb threat had to happen, I’m glad it happen
ed in history class so that Faith and I could huddle up together. I wish I had worn my hoodie, though, as it was chilly this morning. Faith and I got really close and shared hers, so I did stay pretty warm.

  When they let us back into the building an hour later, I thought that that’d be that. But then this morning when I walked up the drive to the school building from my car, I saw that there was a long line of people waiting outside the main door. As I got closer, I looked down, and saw more than a few half-smoked packs of cigarettes, lighters, and a couple of knives covering the grass beside the sidewalk.

  Once I was inside the front door—after waiting in line for ten minutes—I saw the metal detectors, and a group of teachers searching bags alongside a couple of police officers. So that’s why people were dropping their contraband. The teachers and officers weren’t looking for cigarettes though—they were looking for weapons. Apparently yesterday’s bomb threat spooked the administration and they called in the metal detectors. I don’t think they caught anything, though, or at least nothing they told us about.

  It’s scary to think that if terrorists could get into the cockpit of a plane and fly it into a skyscraper, they could definitely get into our 50-year-old school building. A school should be a safe place, a place of learning, not fear.

  School had been my sanctuary from our messed-up home, but how can a place that requires metal detectors be a sanctuary?

  In way better news, Dad stopped by this afternoon to rake the leaves out of the yard. I don’t know if Mom called him and asked him to, or if he did it on his own, but either way it seems like a good sign. I pointed the freshly-raked yard out to Mom, but she didn’t really say anything, seemingly distracted.

  I actually thought not having metal-detectors would be scarier. I guess we’ve just gotten used to them now. But to Beth, her entire world was changing, into one people today would recognize.

  Mom finally made it home—the first time this weekend—in time for dinner Sunday. I was in no mood to talk, and she was clearly in no mood to put up with my silence, and not content to let me be.