[Chapter 12]

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Set me free? Set ME free?? Set me FREE? Please.

I inhaled slowly and exhaled roughly. Maybe I was being a little overemotional. Hmm. Probably not. I think I had a right to be emotional, and I think I was handling my fury rather well. After all, I was breathing (somewhat) calmly. I wasn't ripping Augustus' face off, though I really wanted to. I wasn't screaming at him. . . yet. And if I did, I don't think that'd make me overemotional. He had violated my privacy. He had stolen one of my most precious belongings from me. He really violated my space. I think he deserved whatever he got.

With that thought, I rammed my elbow back into his ribs, feelings satisfied when he grunted and moved away from me. My hands would not stop shaking. I couldn't tell if it was anger or anxiety. I was not addicted to my journal, was I? Was I experiencing withdrawal symptoms without it near me? I definitely felt crippled. My diary was gone. The last three month's of my life's history was no longer within my reach. I felt utterly out of control. I didn't feel comfortable going into Grandma's bedroom, since it was her room, so I made my way to the garage. I'd only been in there once before. It was musty. It was damp. It was dark. It would be a perfect place to go and pretend I didn't exist for a few minutes. Perhaps Augustus would feel bad for me and go get my journal back.

I flicked on the garage light, expecting a vague eery yellow glow to fill the empty space. I was in for quite a surprise. Three parrots immediately started squawking. So much for silence. They flew around me as they raced to fly into the house. I ducked as they made their way over my head. I prayed they didn't poop on me. You may laugh, but trust me, I had that sort of luck, unfortunately.

Wally swiped at my cheek with some sharp part of his body as he flew by. I couldn't see if it was his beak or his feet because it happened so fast and I was trying to take cover. But it hurt! "What in the world!" I exclaimed as the sharp pain began to fill the right side of my face. The other two followed him and began yacking out their frustrations over being locked in the garage. Not that I had anything to do with it, but I guess they decided to blame me. Despite their noise, they did not drawn out a certain, music box voice.

"I believe they are called senegal parrots of the Poicephalus genus, generally from a wide range of west Africa. Though, your Grandmother probably bought these specific ones from a pet store."

I could do nothing but stare at Augustus. What was he talking about? Why was he talking? And why oh why did I just have to be caught by him again?

He rose an eyebrow and tilted his head. "You asked what they were in the world, and I answered you."

I laughed, and I laughed hard. I almost wanted to pull out my hair. This was crazy. Crazy! Was this really my life? My humor died quickly when Augustus caught the flying birds in his large hands and began walking them toward me.

"What are you doing?" I hoped he wasn't going to put them down my shirt or something.

"I am putting them back in the garage."

"Why?" I was still pissed about my diary, but when I get curious, everything else takes a back seat.

"Because they bother you. I thought you would sleep better if they were not around. Your grandmother would have taken them in, but Mrs. Romerson is allergic."

I sighed and sat on the couch as Augustus locked the birds away in the humid, dark prison. As much as I hated their feathered bodies, I did not wish that fate upon them. Now that I knew they were in there, I could hear their distressed calls. I flinched as I felt a hand brush my cheek. I looked up as Augustus kneeled down beside me. I kept forgetting how much body he had. He must be a whole foot taller than me, and I'm five foot five. As much as I disdained his person, he was quite pretty. He looked like the universe, and I felt like a tiny, icky, ant in his presence. The thought made me scowl. I didn't need another reason to like him less, but by golly I had one.

"Are you ready to start your homework? We have a lot of work to do," he commented as he moved to look over the books on the table before us.

I, however, could not get past the birds nor the thought of Grams nor my diary nor anything else.

"Augustus," I started, my stomach in knots.

"Hm?" he grunted as he flipped through one of the books.

"Stealing my diary from me really hurt my feelings. You had no right to read it or take it away from me. I can't believe you did that."

I looked up from my hands, which I had been wringing in my lap. Augustus was completely still. His strong chest did not even appear to move with his breathing. I followed up the path of his neck to draw over his high cheekbones until I finally met his blue eyes. For the first time, his blue orbs were pale rather than bright and intense.

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