“At a hotel,” he answered.
“Why's that?”
“She had a photo shoot at 5 AM and thought it would be easier to stay there,” he explained.
“Got it.”Still, I could sense there was more beneath the surface.“Dad, you know you can talk to me, right?We've always been open with each other.”
“There's nothing to discuss,” he replied, his tone sharper than usual.
“I'm sorry,” I said, feeling a mix of annoyance and concern.
“No, sweetie, I didn't mean it like that.It's just that nothing is settled yet, so there's nothing to say.”
“Settled?What do you mean?”I pressed, eager for clarity.
“Forget it,” he snapped, a tone I'd never heard from him before.
The tension from dinner finally dissipated.Dad brewed himself a cup of coffee while I washed the dishes.I then headed up to my room, leaving him to settle into his preferred spot on the living room sofa.
I turned on the shower, cranking the heat until the water was nearly scalding.There was something off in my life—at school, with Marco and Em, and even with my parents.Everything felt like it was in flux, and not for the better.Perhaps this was the reality of growing up: an influx of issues, heightened drama, lies, and secrets.
There was one more thing I needed to do that day.After shutting off the water, I slipped into my pink bathrobe and wrapped a towel around my damp hair.I made my way to the bookshelf, searching for my jewelry box.Nestled among the necklaces and bracelets, I found a small key.
I then rushed to my white desk by the window and unlocked the last drawer.There lay my diary, its red cover worn from use.I hadn't written down any thoughts in quite some time, usually reserving the pages for when something troubled me or I had secrets too heavy to share.
But that day, I wasn't there to write; I wanted to read something I had written over a month ago.I took a seat at the desk and began flipping through the pages.Written in stark black ink, I found it…
August 10th
I find myself in a place where no location on Earth would feel right.Nothing brings me the happiness I so deeply crave.The fleeting moments of joy that once satisfied me are no longer enough.I yearn for what is just unreachable, and I fantasize about things that are simply not real.I try to please everybody around me, but it seems I don't know how to please myself.It feels as though I am trapped within a shell, desperately trying to fight and break free.Sometimes I want to escape reality and lose myself in the enchanted world of books.Other times, I dream of being a book—an exquisite narrative that people would adore, treasure, and shed tears over.If only I could embody a story, I would craft a world that exceeds my highest aspirations, a stunning realm with emotions so profound they could cause an earthquake.I wish I could love and be loved enough to shift souls with one another.I wish to find somebody to be my air.Someone who ignites a passion in me that borders on madness.I wish for somebody who would scream and write my name a thousand times…
Chapter 5
Iwoke up to a persistent knocking.“Luna?Are you alright?”My dad peeked into my room.
“What time is it?”I exclaimed in a panic, realizing I had overslept and missed my alarm.Panic surged through me as I dashed around, gathering my things.“I had missed the bus!”I could hardly believe it; I never missed the bus.
“Take a deep breath.I can drive you to school,” Dad said, trying to calm me down.
“Okay, I'll be ready in five!”I called out as I hurried to the bathroom.
The rain poured heavily outside as we drove in silence.I plugged in my earphones and immersed myself in music, losing track of time.
When I finally arrived at school, it was about five minutes past the bell.I rushed inside, running through the long corridor to room 404.I knocked on the door before entering the classroom and spotted Emily, who greeted me with a warm smile that eased my nerves.
“I'm sorry for being late; I had a family emergency,” I fibbed.I glanced over at my art history professor, who always seemed to scowl from behind her glasses.With her heavy makeup and perpetually oily skin.Her long dark hair was plastered in place with hairspray, making it look stiff.
I stood patiently, waiting for her to finish writing in the class journal.
“You may take your seat, Ms.Bernardi,” she finally said.
I hurried over to Emily.
“Hey,” I said, hoping we were still on good terms.
“Hey, I thought you might skip school today!I was ready to throw a party for you,” she joked with a grin.
“Come on, I've missed school a few times when I was sick,” I replied.
