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After finishing up in the kitchen, I stop by Preston’s room with the hopes that we can play a few video games, but when I poke my head in his room, he’s enthralled with his own game and chatting with someone on his headset. I leave him to it and go to my own room.
I pull the stashed journals from under my pillow and resign myself to reading about all the terrible things I did to Piper Schofield. I know that the only reason she gave these to me was that she wants to cement her reasoning for being unable to forgive me, but I see it as an opportunity to get to know her better and for a way to see how bad I was, so I know to never do those things again.
The inside cover of the first journal I pick up lets me know that it’s from the summer before she began sixth grade. There are hearts and sketched flowers adorning the front page and the name Dillon written over and over.
I don’t know if I’m friends with this Dillon guy, but I already hate him. The first entry describes in nauseating detail her trip to the park with this jerk. Although mostly benign to my teenage standards, it’s clear that she really likes this guy. He pushed her on the swing and held her hand while they walked up the block to get ice cream. She had about a million hearts on the page when she wrote about him kissing her on the cheek when he walked her home.
My head is throbbing by the time I make it through the first journal, nauseated by the number of times she mentioned this boy. Not once was my name mentioned, and I can’t help but feel like I wasted the last hour reading about her young love.
“What are those?” Accusation fills Peyton’s tone when she steps inside my room, finding me with a scowl on my face and Piper’s journal clutched in my hands.
“Piper’s journals,” I answer before tossing the one I was reading onto the pile with the others.
“You stole her journals?”
“I didn’t steal them. She gave them to me to read.”
“Fat chance. Why would you take her things? How did you even get them?” She continues to glare at me. “Did you break into her house? You were an asshole before, but I’m sure you were never a criminal!”
“She gave them to me to read,” I repeat. “I wouldn’t steal her things.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I wonder if they’re completely true. I don’t think they are. If there was something I could take of hers that would give me some insight on how to make her hate me less, I think I’d take that chance.
“Seriously,” I tell her when she continues to glare at me.
“Why would she do that?”
“Probably to get her point across about how awful I’ve been to her.” I look down at the journals. “Will you read them to me?”
“No way,” she answers immediately. “I already know how big of a jerk you were.”
“Please?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “My head is killing me.”
She watches me for a long moment before sighing and holding her hand out for one of the journals. When she takes it and sits across the room, I stand and close the bedroom door.
“I don’t want Mom and Dad hearing this shit,” I explain when she gives me a quizzical look.
“Believe me, they know you’re an asshole.”
“Was,” I remind her. “They know I was horrible to Piper?”
Wow, that only makes what I’ve done worse. How do they sit at the dinner table with the Schofields with smiles on their faces knowing that I tortured Piper on a daily basis?
“I don’t think they know you were mean to her. I don’t think Piper has said anything to her parents either.”
“That’s a relief,” I mutter.
“Yeah, isn’t it awesome that the girl has been suffering in silence?”
Derision fills my sister’s voice, but I guess I deserve it.
“Can you just read?”
She sighs before flipping open the cover. “Wow. These are really old.”
“Sixth grade,” I tell her.
“The first day of school was worse than I could’ve imagined,” she begins. “Even though I was wearing the same style clothes as the other girls—”
“Maybe just summarize?” I tell her. It’ll take forever if she reads these damn things word for word. I need to get to the bottom of my assholery quicker than this.
“Fine,” Peyton huffs as her eyes start scanning the page.
“Bronwyn is the meanest girl she’s ever met. They made fun of her in the bathroom. Kyle tripped her in the cafeteria.”
Peyton flips through the journal quickly.
“Does it mention a guy named Dillon?”
Her eyes meet mine for a brief moment before she refocuses on the journal.
“It looks like his dad got a new job, and they moved to Oregon in November of that year. Her parents wouldn’t let her go trick or treating that Halloween.” She continues to flip the pages. “Her and Dillon dressed up as Raggedy Anne and Andy and stayed at her house and watched movies. Oh, shit!”
