The Look Book

FIVE

Patrick awoke in the middle of the night still dressed from the day before. The diary lay open across his chest. Patrick rubbed his eyes and pushed it aside. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep reading it. He hadn't even done his homework or practiced his saxophone. Knowing the type of day that was ahead of him, Patrick quickly stuffed his books and homework into his backpack, including the diary. He lay back in his bed and tried to get back to sleep.

During the first half of the day, Patrick managed to make it through without sleeping in class. He figured lunch would be the best time to get the rest of his homework done. But when he sat at the table all he wanted to do was sleep.

Tyler joined him. "What's with you today man? Didn't get enough sleep last night?"

"No. I was up, uh, reading."

"Reading what? We didn't have a book report, did we?" Tyler looked stunned.

Patrick rubbed his face. "No. I just found this book and"

Tyler picked up the diary that Patrick reached for from his backpack. "This?"

"Yeah, I think it's a diary."

"Must be a good one if its juicy enough to make you lose sleep." He chuckled. "So whose diary is it? Cause if it's Shellie Montgomery's I'll gladly return it to her."

"No. I think it's an old diary. Historically old. Whoever wrote it is probably dead." Patrick placed his head down on the table.

Tyler turned the book over his hands and flipped through the pages. "No, they're not."

"Huh?" He asked as he slightly raised his head.

"The date was just a few years ago. See?"

Patrick snapped up and snatched the book away from him. "She's still living?"

"Worse. She could be looking for it. And if whoever she is finds out you have it and read it boy are you in trouble." Tyler laughed.

~

Later, after Patrick got home, he quickly went to sleep. It had been a long day and all he wanted to do was take a nap on the couch. At one point he heard the phone ring and his dad leave a message on the machine saying he'd be home late again. Patrick just rolled over and slept.

When he awoke hours later, he glanced up at the clock on the wall. He would miss dinner if he didn't get up now. Patrick sat up and reached for his backpack which was on the floor in front of him. He quickly noticed that it was open and the diary wasn't inside. Maybe he had left it in his locker at school by mistake. Instead of dwelling on it, he went upstairs to practice his saxophone.

Then Bobby came into his room. "Hi Patrick!"

"Get out."

"Is this yours?"

"Is what mine?"

"Some diary." Bobby spoke in a high-pitched girly voice.

Patrick whipped around and snatched it from Bobbys hands. "You little rat! You took it!"

"No I didn't! I found it!"

"Get out!" Patrick kicked him out and shut the door.

 

June 8th

Dear Diary,

I have been working at the Lantley's household for several weeks now and I must say I have a new appreciation for what Helen, the maid at the academy, did for all those years. Being a maid is a long and tiring job. It's the same thing day after day. But Milly doesn't seem to mind, which makes me wonder how she does it. We are not the only hired help here though.

The house has three stories and each floor has its own set of maids and butlers. There are six of us for the entire house. The mailman I greet every morning is Mr. Washington. Sometimes he gives me sweet caramel and chocolate candy after I retrieve the mail, which I keep in my pocket until I can sneak away to eat it.

I have never formally met the Lantleys but from their conduct at supper each night, I can say for certainty I don't like them.

Mr. Lantley is extremely rich and uses it to his advantage. He has a deep voice and touches his mustache whenever he wants to talk business. Mrs. Lantley has an extremely high, squeaky voice, which I find annoying. Her conversations with her husband is always the same.

First, she talks about the weather. Then she asks Mr. Lantley about his day at work. (Mr. Lantley works at a bank or owns it rather.) And just before dessert she tells him about the latest fashion accessory she just had to have and it's always something different. One day she'd come home with a fur hat, and the next with a fur coat and matching boots. The Lantleys don't even seem to notice that I'm new to their house. At times, they don't even seem to notice I'm in the room. They were too busy caught up in their own world and I was invisible.

Even though I don't like the Lantleys I love their house. Each day I take a few minutes to imagine what it would be like to live here. If this were my home. Sometimes Milly catches me and tells me to get back to work. But what I love most about the entire house is the grand piano in the parlor. Each day I go in and dust it off and admire all the keys. I was taught how to play at the academy and it's the only thing I genuinely enjoy. Oh, how I dream of playing that piano. It looks rarely used and I doubt Ms. Lantley plays.

One day I will play it. One day.

Sincerely Maggie