Monday, February 16, 2010

I"m practically passed out in math. Woke myself up long enough to take one note in my binder, and I saw the diary. So. Caleb found out. He isn't here today, which makes me very nervous. What if he left? Somehow, some way, I don't want him to leave now. I think I might be in love again. Ugh, love. Such a corny word. Perhaps destiny, fate, tragedy. They fit. But not love. Love sounds like some small-town hick who got hitched on a road trip to Vegas. "I'm in love with him." Yeah, and totally wasted. But somehow, Caleb is my fate. I wish it weren't but I don't get to choose who I meet walking down the street casually. Come on, no one can do that. Darn one sec here's the teacher. Just asking what the hypotenuse of the triangle on the board was. It was 6.2 centimeters. So, back to Caleb. He was never popular in San Fransisco, but here, the girls are all over the mysterious new kid from the city. Two football jocks have been dumped for Caleb, rumor has it. Although the ones that were dumped were both cheating, so the reason could be more like they were sleeping with other girls than I love Caleb, if you know what I mean. Bells ringing, got to go.
Here I am. In Spanish now. Back in SF, Caleb and I never were dating. But it was obvious that we thought of each other as more than friends. I honestly thought I was in love with him. But when I told my friends they said I was stupid. I was too young. I believed them, so that was that. I stopped thinking of Caleb that way, but he didn't stop thinking of me that way. I could tell. I was young, but I could still tell. I wasn't blind. Brody was a threat. I hope Caleb hadn't completely eliminated him. The way Caleb looks at me now, I think that the love is fading for him. Or at least he's going through the same thing I did. A period where he isn't sure that he really loves me. Loved me. It would be so much easier if Caleb hadn't come, but I think that I would have gone in the next year anyway. I always had that voice in the back of my head that said Caleb. Caleb. Caleb. Every time I kissed a guy, or asked a guy out, the voice would be there. Pretty soon, the number of "Caleb"s would be too high. I would have to go back. I think he had to come back to me. It wasn't a choice, It was definite.

Sunday, February 15, 2010

So, I went. To the dance. I couldn't stop myself. He wasn't there. At least, I didn't see him. And, in a town as small as South Hill Springs, you see everybody that's at the dance eventually. And now, he friend requested me on Facebook. What will he do when he sees "in a relationship"? Yeah, now I'm "in a relationship". Forrest, the popular guy, had made out with me at the dance. In my defense, though, someone had dumped a bottle of whiskey into the punch bowl. Sporatti had gotten absolutely wasted, by accident, and had made out with Jess, Maddi, Kay, and even Randi, the failing slut. It was funny, though. And Forrest had somehow gotten me in. I'm hungover, gonna go sleep.

Saturday, February 14 2010

Today is the dance. I hope pray that Caleb won't be at the dance. If he sees me flirting with that many guys, I'm afraid that boy will lose his mind! It scares me to think that he knew where my mom and I had gone. My question is: how? Old school records, that sent my C- work to South Hill Springs? Mom's old job at the paper company knew where we had gone, they relocated her to the plant in Jamestown, about 12 miles from South Hill Springs. The only other person I'd told was Brody. Oh, God. Brody. Brody told! I have to get ready for the dance, but Brody! What had made Brody tell? Caleb's strong, stronger than he looks. And he's big. Caleb is 6'4", and about 250 pounds. And Brody was short, fast. A running back on the football team in our freshman year, but he did modified track the year before. God, what about Brody? I never really liked him. Ever. But, hey, he wasn't so bad. And it's not like I want to see him hurt, you know? God, now maybe I'm too lonely. Writing to this little red pleather book, pretending that it can give advice, using "God" way too much. What if a crisis happens tomorrow, and I keep writing in this thing, and they find it like Anne Frank and then the whole world will know all my secrets. I think I'm going to fake a stomach bug. I don't want to take the risk that Caleb might be there. So, I have to fake liking CSI:Miami. Well, I actually like it, but it just isn't the right mood for me now. What with Caleb, and everything. Oh, well.

Friday, February 13 2010

It started completely normal. I got up. I ate a granola bar. I drank a cup of coffee. I threw on a pair of jeans, an old Faith Hill concert T-shirt. I fought my long, wavy blond hair into a ponytail. I just made the bus. I hurriedly finished my math. I talked with my friends about the dance on Saturday. We agreed to all go single, so we could flirt with every popular guy there. When I got to first period, though, there was some kid up at the front of the class. I vaguely recognized him, but put it off as some nerdy honor student getting praised by the stupid science teacher, Mr. Sporatti. So what if everyone called him "Hottie Sporatti", he still gave way too much homework. Then I saw it. The piercing green eyes. The too-thin brown hair. The scar over his right eye. It was him. I had done this. The nerdiness. The scar. Caleb Brocwell, come to haunt me. My past mistake, staring me in the face. The look in his eyes was tortured, lonely. I had done that, too. It was my fault. And yet, I could still see it. The ghost of love in the pained eyes. And now, here I was, all happy and popular. Going to the dance single, so I could flirt with other guys. All but forgetting the love I had once known. And here he was, in this small, western town. I wondered what drew him to bland, boring South Hill Springs, Texas. But of course I knew. Me. I had somehow, someway, called him from somewhere in San Fransisco, all the way down here. I had been bullied, laughed at, ridiculed in San Fransisco. He had come out of his goth shell to help. 9th grade. I still remember it. And then, two months before I had left, I had damn near killed him. I thought that I would be more popular if I dated that idiot, Brody Sanders. I thought Caleb would be happy for me. But, as soon as Brody and I kissed, he had gotten jealous. And I had ignored him. And the day that we were driving to the basketball game, something had gone wrong with my old, beat up, bright yellow Chevy. I jumped out, not thinking about Caleb. He escaped. But he was burned, over his eye and across his back. And I was fine. That's when I had run. I ran down the highway, down the street to my house, and never talked to him again. I moved, two months later. I had become so depressed, and my mom moved me to this little town in Texas, where my grandmother lived. And now, there he was, standing there. Up front. Next to Hottie Sporatti. And So, my past was doomed to repeat itself. Because, just the day before, the most popular guy in school had asked me out. And I'd said yes. So. Here my story begins. In this little, red diary that I got for my 14th birthday. 3 years, and now it serves it's purpose.