Why I can't burn this thing

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"I knew I wouldn't, but it was fun pretending.

Holding this black composition notebook in my hands, I imagined tossing it into the fireplace, watching the pages blacken and curl as they disintegrated, its embarrassing secrets converted to ashes and smoke, causing the fire alarm to start shrieking.

Nikki would never find out about how nervous I get around her.

Betty and Phil would never find out about how disturbing my recurring nightmares are.

I'd stop having that recurring nightmare where Mackenzie steals this notebook and puts everything on a public site (with a glaringly bright orange theme) for all the world to see.

But I can't burn this notebook because:

1. There are still a bunch of pages left, so that would be wasteful.

2. If I made the smoke alarm go off, Betty might have a few hard-to-answer questions.

3. We, um, don't have a fireplace...

4. I like this, okay? This whole experience has taught me that I like writing. A lot. Maybe almost as much as photography.

Well, guess I'm keeping you, notebook. I can't call you a diary. Sorry, but that's too much. I'll just keep calling you 'notebook.'

And I have the perfect hiding place now. It's such a good hiding place. Here's a photo:

 Here's a photo:

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Heh heh... (See, it's funny 'cause it's a black void and--never mind).

__ __ __________________

I'm really confused right now. I was at Fuzzy Friends earlier, feeding the dogs and talking to them about stuff when Mackenzie came in.

I knew it was her when I smelled this sickly sweet perfume that made me gag.

A few of the dogs started barking. They have a fantastic sense of smell.

Poor dogs.

Nikki wears perfume sometimes, but it's more subtle, less sickly...

Um, anyway, Mackenzie came in, and before I could hide, she saw me and screeched, 'I'm here to adopt my dog, Brandon! Which one doesn't have fleas?'

'All of 'em,' I told her, wondering where Betty had disappeared to.

'Hmm...' Mackenzie looked skeptical. 'But aren't they mangy mutts you took off the street?'

After taking a calming deep breath, I explained to her that not all shelter dogs come from dirty gutters, that not all dogs from dirty gutters have fleas, that for fleas we wash the dogs with a special shampoo, and that it's kind of rude to call them mangy mutts.

Then things got weird.

Mackenzie apologized.

And said she wasn't thinking.

And it sounded sincere!

Yes, yes she did. This isn't a notebook of lies.

Her exact words were: 'Sorry. I wasn't thinking.'

I was speechless. The only thing I was capable of doing at the moment was staring at her in confusion with my mouth hanging open.

Mackenzie smiled. 'Can you show me the dogs, please?' she asked politely.

At this point, I was sure I was going to keel over from shock. Seriously.

But instead of doing that, I closed my mouth and brought her to the back to visit the dogs.

'Aw!'

'He's so cute!'

'Squee!'

Yes! 'Squee!' She sounded like a NIKKI clone. I didn't know what to think.

(Now that I've gotten over the shock, I'm thinking Nikki should get her cute exclamations copyrighted so she can sue Mackenzie if this happens again!)

'I love this one, Brandon! So cute!' she said, petting Elvis gingerly. He's one of the new arrivals. 'I'll talk to my parents and come back for him soon, 'kay, Hon?'

I nodded. What else was there to do?

When she was gone, Betty' s head popped out from behind the front counter.

I glared at her. 'Okay. Hi...'

'Hi,' she said back. 'Sorry for leaving you alone, but as soon as I smelled that perfume--' She made a face.

'That was Mackenzie,' I told her, smiling. (There's just something funny about Betty hiding from an eighth grader.) 'She goes to WCD and--'

'Oh!' Betty gasped, assuming that Mackenzie was my friend or something. 'I didn't mean...'

'She bullies Nikki and she hates dogs.'

'Okay... Never mind then!'

We had a nice talk then. Betty told me about some of the jerks she's met in her lifetime--She's met a lot of jerks in her lifetime. I told Betty about Nikki, Mackenzie, and their girl drama that started in September and still hasn't ended.

'I'd like to stay out of it, but maybe that's impossible.'

'It is,' said Betty in a strange voice.

'Huh? What does that mean?'

She chuckled and didn't answer my question.

'Betty?'

I don't know what's up with Betty, but after that she kept saying significant things that confused me and giving me significant looks that confused me even more and muttering, 'Boys. So clueless.'

Why? What is it I don't understand because I'm a boy? For that matter, why are girls so confusing?

And why...do I hear Mackenzie's voice downstairs?!

Oh crud. Have to hide."

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