Love, Lacey

Lacey flipped the cover of her worn leather diary closed, sighing in relief that she was the only one who knew what was scratched onto those sacred pages. She hugged it tight to her chest, wishing for a moment that the things written inside were only a dream, only a terrible nightmare. It seemed hard to believe she’d only started writing in it a year ago. It seemed a lifetime. Maybe because it really was a lifetime ago, technically. A year ago, she was a completely different person.

Lacey was musing about this, her diary open on her desk, when she saw Amy’s head begin to turn. She swiftly swept her diary off of the desk, snapping it shut and sitting on it. Amy just glared at her. She could feel her face glowing bright red.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Amy asked acidly.

Lacey couldn’t make herself respond. Her insides froze when Amy talked to her that way. She knew it was pointless, but she looked away.

“Why don’t you take a picture, you Lesbo freak?” the black-haired girl sneered, settling herself back in to her chair, turning to pretend to listen to the teacher at the front of the classroom. But Lacey knew what she was really doing. Her cell phone made a bright patch of light on top of her lap. Probably more gossip about how weird the little brunette was to her little cronies. Oh, the powers of technology. The popular girls could talk shit without even being in the same room now. Lacey shook her head and bent her head over the Huckleberry Finn study guide she really should have been concentrating on.

A few minutes later, when the bell rang, Lacey grabbed her bag and ran out the door without a backwards glance.

She sat down in History with a loud, anxious sigh. She had been wanting to tell her diary how she felt when Amy looked at her - the cool feeling in her veins, her heart pounding in her head, when Amy had turned and looked at her. That was ironic, when she paused to think about it. In reality, she should hate Amy Lee with a burning passion. After all the years of teasing and humiliation she’d faced at the hands of the girl, she should want to wring her perfectly sculpted neck. But who could hate Amy? She was evil, yes, but physically perfect and impossibly charming.

She pursed her lips, digging through her bag for her diary. Her heart sank when she couldn’t find it. She was sure she had—left it in English. She sat on it to hide her thoughts from Amy. She had left it on the seat. She threw her textbooks on the ground in frustration. She growled, her upper lip twitching in irritation, completely unaware of the giggles coming from behind her. All that mattered was that her journal was gone. Her heart thumped and she felt the color drain out of her face as a sudden frightening thought crossed her mind. There was only one person on earth who could possibly have it at this point. And one person who could use it against her.

And Lacey happened to be in love with her.
*

Amy hadn’t expected to find the Freak’s diary. It was just sitting there on the chair, after the Loser ran out of class. It sat there, almost beckoning her to take it home with her and read every secret hidden within its pages. Amy’s face lit up as she grabbed the book, softly caressing the faux leather as if it was a precious gem or an expensive present. Oh the power this book could have!

She had seen the Creep scribble in the notebook everyday for the past year and had always been curious as to what it contained. Now that she had it… It was almost too much for her. She slipped the book into her red and blue messenger and ran to her next class, History. On one hand, she was excited. Mr. Brooks, the supposed teacher, never paid attention to what was happening in his class. He seemed too busy thinking about that 40 oz waiting for him in the car, or taking a peek down Megan Rochester’s blouse when he thought everyone was concentrating on their study guides. She would have plenty of time to indulge in her little secret. But then she remembered something else. Something that automatically put a damper on her plan. Geek Breath was in the same class. It seemed to Amy incredibly gauche (and not to mention stupid) to just pull out something you just stole from someone when they were in the same room as you.

No, not stealing. You FOUND it. She should be more careful about her things. It’s almost like she was BEGGING you to take it. Momma always said, “Finders, Keepers. Losers, Weepers.”

And Amy would make sure that this loser would become a weeper. A lowdown, pathetic weeper. Not that she wasn’t already, but could it hurt to crush her spirit more? Of course not.

Her conscience now cleared, Amy strutted into class, headed straight for the back and plopped herself down. Right next to Lacey.

*

Lacey was starting to get frantic. She couldn’t believe she could have been so stupid, leaving it behind. It’s never been out of her sight since she got it. Why start now? Lacey felt tears of frustration forming in her eyes, flushing her cheeks.

Vaguely she noticed Amy sit down. She looked very comfortable, which was never a good sign for Lacey or any of the other outcasts. Maybe she’d just hired a nerd to do all of her homework at a low, low fare or a few “favors” she was know to give out. It didn’t really matter to the anxious girl. All that mattered was her diary, and it was gone. Finally, after half an hour of searching her bag over and over, clinging to the stupid belief that it was still in there, she gave up. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and tried not to listen to the teacher’s lecture, willing the bitter tears not to spill.

It took a lot of work, but she succeeded. After History, she decided to ditch Art. It wasn’t like the teacher took attendance, after all. She sat down in the library, mainly because nobody would bother her there. Even if they did, she could flash her laminated pass that the counselor gave her and get away scotch free. She grabbed an empty table and thought. She tried to think of any other place she could’ve left her diary, but she was coming up empty-handed. While the truth was as clear as day, she refused to let herself believe she could have been so careless. Just then, a preppy junior bounced out of the door immediately to her right.

“I know, Lucy! I know!” She was giggling to one of her friends, presumably Lucy.

Lucy was giggling, too, but stopped suddenly and snapped her fingers. “Hold on a minute! I left that note in class. I had to sit on it so it wouldn’t get taken up, you know!”

Lacey’s face broke into a grin. She had been sitting on it! Laughing quietly to herself at her own stupidity, she got up and raced to the English room. If she remembered correctly, that class was at lunch, and she would be able to stop a random teacher to get them to unlock the door.

When she got to room 114, Mrs. Stafford’s room, the door was, as expected, locked. It didn’t take long to find another teacher, however, and convince him that she’d left her homework inside.

The random teacher opened the door, and Lacey leapt inside.

*

Across the school, in Algebra 2, Amy was musing. On one hand, the diary called to her from within her spotlessly perfect bag, begging to be read. On the other hand, Mrs. Merrill was especially strict, and would no doubt take it up without a moment’s hesitation. She couldn’t have a teacher take up a prize that good!

Amy grumpily settled in for a long wait, playing with her hair and studiously ignoring the teacher. How could she care about Cramer’s Rule when there were dorky lives to ruin? She figured the only time she would have ant time to read the little bitch’s diary was when she got home, and that was 2 hours away. She groaned to herself and opened her notebook, trying to no avail to throw herself into the lesson. Only 2. More. Hours.