Eleven

15 1 1
                                    


Riordan

''We need to go back to this Marvallia lady. She seems to know her stuff.''

''Yeah and boy do I have news for her.''

Holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder, I finish a report I had to do before the first period.

It was around six am and Martie had successfully helped me pull another all-nighter.

My eyes wander to my mother's journal sitting pretty on top of Amalia's stolen book. I spent nearly all night interpreting my mother's Gaelic writing. She really had to learn an entire language to encrypt her secrets.

The encryptions didn't start until she was a teenager so the first few pages encapsulated her childhood.

She must've been my age when she started getting scared of her dreams because it didn't take me much reading to see Gaelic writing.

Her first entry was when she was just twelve years old.

~~

December 25th, 1986

Faye and I now have matching journals! She gifted me this today and told me to use it as a diary. Boys at school say diaries were lame and I've been afraid to get one ever since. What if I wanna write in school and someone steals it or something? People at school aren't quite nice. My sister eased my worries by telling me it was a journal rather than a diary. I'm pretty sure it's the same thing, but a journal sounds so much more grown-up.

I really like Christmas. Momma bakes yummy gingersnaps and we get to drink lots of hot cocoa. I wish to get a cell phone or a pager this Christmas. Momma doesn't like giving us our gifts until after Christmas because she thinks it takes away from the celebration of Jesus Christ. I hope she doesn't discover that Faye gave me one of my gifts early.

Anyways, I'm getting tired so I might stop writing.

See you soon, new journal!

Sincerely,

Rayanne.

~~

January 31st, 1987

Today is the worst day of my life. I started my period today and I also got reported to Momma for negligence of work in school. Thanks to Ms. Larson, I'm grounded!
Faye gave me supplies for the bleeding. She's always prepared. Momma didn't even care when I told her, she just said "it's part of being a woman". I knew she was angry at me because I'm not doing the best at school, but she could've at least shown a bit of interest in my new bodily update.

How am I  supposed to do well in school anyway with the awful headaches I get every day? I keep telling Momma that something is wrong with my head, but as usual, she thinks I'm overreacting.

Even when I cry at home, she doesn't like it. Faye always helps me stop crying.

I wish I had a different Momma.  A Momma who actually cares.

~~

February 15th, 1987

I think I'm going mad.

NightwalkerWhere stories live. Discover now