Her Diary
The Plan
A week had passed, and still I was here, lazing around the house every day because I couldn’t face anything other than the familiar. I could tell my parents were more worried than they let on. They glanced at me when they thought I wasn’t looking, concern unmasked in their questioning eyes. Their shared looks drove me crazy. I was going insane inside my own home.
I remembered the vacation my family had taken to Chicago two summers ago. We had visited the United Center, home to the Chicago Bulls Blackhawks, and the Lincoln Park Zoo. We saw the Sears Tower and my mom dragged us to the Art Institute. I couldn’t remember the roads or directions, since we had taken a tour bus around the city. But I knew I had some maps up in my room somewhere.
After forty-five minutes of fruitless searching, I found a cardboard box under my bed. I yanked it out and got a cloud of dust in my face for my trouble.
Opening the first pamphlet I could lay my trembling hands on, I opened it with something that was almost reverence and a smile lit my face. Chicago Illinois, THE Vacation Hot-Spot! Okay, so the slogan could use some work, but that was fine. I had it. And better yet, I had an idea.
Bingo.
______________________________________♫
I slowly started packing, taking small, inconspicuous items first and keeping them in my room, so my parents wouldn't have any idea. My slippers were put away, my iPod fully charged with headphones, wall charger and connector cable, my diary and a few well-thumbed copies of my favourite novels. I had started to accumulate a small pile of money, although most of it would come later. I just hadn't figured out how, yet.
The bigger things, like clothes and food, would come later. Right now it was too dangerous to try to pull off anything big. So I waited.
Since I couldn't stay here, I had to go somewhere. And clearly, that somewhere would have to be big enough to hide a fourteen year old girl who was too ashamed and resentful to tell her parents the truth and to mask her from prying eyes. And most of all, somewhere big enough for me to get lost in and forget everything. Forget Taylor, Ryan, and Dakota. Forget the vodka and the drugs. Forget what I couldn't even remember.
Forget Bailey.
You've got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your grandfather was - Irish Proverb
I remembered the vacation my family had taken to Chicago two summers ago. We had visited the United Center, home to the Chicago Bulls Blackhawks, and the Lincoln Park Zoo. We saw the Sears Tower and my mom dragged us to the Art Institute. I couldn’t remember the roads or directions, since we had taken a tour bus around the city. But I knew I had some maps up in my room somewhere.
After forty-five minutes of fruitless searching, I found a cardboard box under my bed. I yanked it out and got a cloud of dust in my face for my trouble.
Opening the first pamphlet I could lay my trembling hands on, I opened it with something that was almost reverence and a smile lit my face. Chicago Illinois, THE Vacation Hot-Spot! Okay, so the slogan could use some work, but that was fine. I had it. And better yet, I had an idea.
Bingo.
______________________________________♫
I slowly started packing, taking small, inconspicuous items first and keeping them in my room, so my parents wouldn't have any idea. My slippers were put away, my iPod fully charged with headphones, wall charger and connector cable, my diary and a few well-thumbed copies of my favourite novels. I had started to accumulate a small pile of money, although most of it would come later. I just hadn't figured out how, yet.
The bigger things, like clothes and food, would come later. Right now it was too dangerous to try to pull off anything big. So I waited.
Since I couldn't stay here, I had to go somewhere. And clearly, that somewhere would have to be big enough to hide a fourteen year old girl who was too ashamed and resentful to tell her parents the truth and to mask her from prying eyes. And most of all, somewhere big enough for me to get lost in and forget everything. Forget Taylor, Ryan, and Dakota. Forget the vodka and the drugs. Forget what I couldn't even remember.
Forget Bailey.
You've got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your grandfather was - Irish Proverb