Only Up Here. (part 2 Of 2)

Who could have taken my diary? I didn't have to think deeply. It could have only been—Emily. Emily. She had always wanted to read my diary.

She teased me for keeping a diary because I was a boy. I always hated that. Boys have a feeling they'd like to get out, yunno? And it was soothing. The diary felt like a friend that listened to my deepest, darkest, and even most embarrassing secrets—like the crush I once had on Monique's cousin; how I felt the day the Bevy Goobers baptized me in the boy's toilet; the fact that I had secretly burnt Emily's handwritten novel draft as revenge for 'lending' snouty Vlad (BTW, she has awful taste in boys) my extra-sized, mint-condition, 100th-issue Daredevil comic without my permission; the time I pawned mom's great grandma's jewelry to get into a skating fair downtown (I had lost but it was so rad!).

The time I ate dad's shaving cream because I thought it was whipped cream(Don't ask.) or my strong dislike for Mr. Chang—the new substitute teacher, or where I hid Harls' D&D collection or... You get my point. If my diary got out, a lot of people would be pissed, and I would be screwed. I strode towards and knocked on her door as fast and as hard as woodpecker pecked wood. "Go away!" Emily barked from within. "Open the door!" I retorted.

She mumbled something I didn't catch (probably anything good). A few moments later, the glitter-sprinkled door swung open. She looked pissed as she leaned on it with her arms and legs crossed. "To what do I owe the displeasure, blobberfish?" Emily asked, "Where's my diary?!" "I don't know what you are talking about," She shrugged. "Don't play with me. My diary is missing, and I'm pretty sure you have it," I huffed. "Let me spell this out for your pea-sized mush of a brain. I—DON'T—HAVE—IT!" "YOU—"

Fred emerged from the door at the end of the hallway. "What are you two half-wits on about?" He rubbed his eyes delicately. "I had a long day at work, and I really need my beauty sleep. Being handsome to customers all day is so exhausting" "Yeah, right." Emily sneered. "Emily stole one of my books!" I chipped in, not revealing it was my diary. Fred would definitely side with her, and they would probably read it together if he knew. I couldn't risk that. "I so didn't, doofus" "Can I search your room?" I asked

"Ew! No! Why would you?" She puffed out her chest, looking less intimidating and more of a strangled turkey. "Emi just returns his book," Fred drawled before patting his mouth. PING! All our phones vibrated at once. My eyes were still in a fierce battle with Emily's. "Yo, Guys! get a load of this." We turned towards him. "Some unlucky kid's diary got uploaded anonymously on Instagram—The diary of Our Favorite Wimpy Dork." Cold tingled down my back. It couldn't be my diary, could it? I dabbed in my pockets for my phone. "It's everywhere. On Facebook, WeChat, Telegram, YouTube, even Twitter." Fred continued as he scrolled on his device.

'Everywhere'—The statement froze my blood as I pulled out my phone from my back pocket. I opened the file, and my screen washed aglow with pictures of my scribblings. I lost brain function for 10 seconds. "Woah! This dude's diary is rich!" Fred interjected, jumpstarting my nervous system. "Wait, Grant. Could this be your diary?" Emily was also swiping her phone now. My pale face and my phone thwacking to the floor was probably a dead giveaway. Emily cackled, clutching her belly as she read on.

"Damn, Bro! That sucks. #Wimpydork is so gonna trend on Twitter," Fred put one hand on my shoulder, his face still glued to his phone. "You guys should stop reading my diary!" I swatted his hand away. "You wish!" Fred and Emi deadpanned simultaneously. Then they scuffled into their respective rooms. Bang! Bang!—The doors resounded. I was left alone in the hallway, shivering and staring emptily at Fred's mahogany door—traumatized, hoping to be shredded into dust and blown away somewhere. Anywhere but here. I would wake up tomorrow—if I got any sleep at all—and everyone would hate me. My life would never remain the same. I wobbled into my bedroom and crashed into the rubble. Then I cried my eyes out.

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