Secret Diaries (Heartlake Cliche #1)

Chapter Two

      Not many people knew about her journals. Mostly, her playgirl image made everyone think that she was nothing more than a pretty face and a voluptuous body. This suited her just fine. With her job as a model, she couldn’t afford to have a lot of people knowing too much about her. That way, there was less room for rumors. Not that she didn’t have friends, though. She had lots. But only a few knew the real Rachelle Harlow. And only these people were aware of just how much she valued those notebooks she had collected throughout the years.

      Now if only she could get the lost one back. She went to sleep thinking of the contents of that missing brown notebook.

 *****

      St. James Academy was one of the three major educational systems in Heartlake City. It was located in the country’s Leisure District and was considered the most diverse when it came to students and the system itself. Its façade took on a combination of modern and classical architecture. Just like the other two, it offered education from pre-school to college. It was also considered the middle ground.

      The more elite and harder-to-reach institution was the much modernized Kinston University. This one was located at the Financial District and would only accept either students whose parents were so wealthy and influential that they might as well be the next generation of business tycoons and political dynasties, or scholars who passed the entrance exams which could only be achieved by about one-fifth of the country’s student population. Either way, students here were always considered special.

      The school at the other end of the line was Heartlake State University, the country’s first educational system. It was sponsored by the national government and teaches about 75% of the country’s students. Although the buildings were quite old, it was considered the Cultural District’s main tourist attraction. Its extensions included museums and galleries as well as the country’s largest basilica in the east and the largest mosque in the west.

      Grace Enriquez lived in the Cultural District mostly because her father was the curator in Heartlake State Museum and her younger twin brothers attended middle school in Heartlake State University. To go to St. James, she would either ride the bus exclusively for the use of students or the Loop Express, the traditional-looking-but-was-actually-a-modernized-passenger train, which was mostly available for the use of tourists. Today, she chose the bus despite the fact that it was slower and she had no choice but to stand. These buses, like the Loop, followed an almost circular route that passed on all major parts of Heartlake. The train took about an hour to complete the entire loop, an hour and a half for the bus.

      Last night was probably the worst night of her life. She just lost her part-time job as a waitress, the guy she thought she’d finally go on a date with had started dating another girl without even telling her that he was no longer interested, and her mom met a car accident while she was in the Philippines doing a documentary for Heartlake National Broadcasting Station. Her father was currently on his way to the Philippines hoping against hope that her mother did not suffer any major injuries. The call they received had only informed them of the accident and the name of the hospital where her mother was currently confined. If her father hadn’t called her cell phone to tell her he was ready to leave for the Philippines, she would have stayed at Central Park until she could no longer cry. How could everything bad happen in one day?

      And then, just as she was about leave, she found this brown notebook near the foot of the bench she was sitting on. She picked it up and decided to bring it to the lost and found office but it was closed for the day. She kept it then and went home, said goodbye to her father and sent her brothers to sleep. For the next few days, she was going to be the oldest in the family and she really couldn’t afford to be depressed. Just as she was about to sleep, her eyes found the brown notebook peeking out of her bag. Out of natural curiosity, she got out of her bed, took it and opened the notebook somewhere in the middle. She came face-to-face with a page-long journal entry:

 It has to be tonight. It wouldn’t be easier if I postpone it anyway. I have to tell him I want out. Jake was a great boyfriend but—

      Grace hastily closed the notebook, realizing it was a diary. The owner might not know, but she was never the kind of person to dig up secrets that no one wanted to tell her. If they wanted to keep the information to themselves, that was fine with her. She opened the diary again, this time on the first page.

      “Okay, I wonder if I know the owner of this diary?” she said, flipping through the second page. And there she found it. “Rachelle Harlow,” she said, surprised. “She keeps a diary? Now that’s new,” she put her right thumb and forefinger under her chin in a thoughtful manner.

      “So that Jake she mentioned could only be Jake Clifford. That was her eighth? No, wait. Ninth. Ninth ex-boyfriend. I wonder what happe—Hell!” She closed the diary again and tossed it on her nightstand. Didn’t she just say that she was not a sneaky busybody? She lied down on the bed and told herself that today’s events must be exhausting her. She decided it would save more time and effort if she just returned the diary to Rachelle herself. The offices, after all, liked involving paper works even with a situation as simple as this.

      And so here she was, standing in the crowded bus, feeling slightly apprehensive about the upcoming meeting with the notorious St. James Queen. Rachelle was overly popular and although they attended the same school and were both high school seniors, there was a huge possibility that Rachelle had never even heard of her.

      What if she thought I stole this diary? Or worse. What if she decided I’m planning some sort of scheme because I’m envious of her fame? Grace shook her head. No. One look at me and she would never think of me as someone who’s devious enough to plot a scheme against her. Uggghh. Maybe I should just bring this to lost and found? Yes. That would be a good idea. She puckered her lips. Unless of course, it falls on the wrong hands and that person ends up putting the contents in online forums which would totally embarrass Rachelle Harlow and in turn affect the reputation of Nick Cleveland and I really can’t allow that to happen because I know that Nick is not a bad person.  She frowned then sighed, Oh hell, maybe I really should just give this to Rachelle personally.

       “St. James students, out of the bus now,” the conductor said in his booming voice, which all bus conductors seemed to have. “Next stop, Kinston.”

      “We already know that, old man!” Some students shouted. The last thing she heard before the door closed was the conductor’s voice telling the students to learn how to respect their elders.

      Okay. I’ll see her after class hours. And that’s final.