The Secret

Dear Diary,

      I have a secret. I, Mary Elizabeth Blair, have a secret. The only thing is that at Wellington’s Boarding School, nobody cares. The mistresses don’t care if you have a secret, even if it eats away at you, even if it makes you sick. But my secret doesn’t make me socially troubled. Oh no, I have enough friends to fill a yearbook. But, sometimes I think that is what throws people of. My own demons know my secret. They know my secret; so does my grandmother.

     As I did my homework, my damp, auburn hair tumbled down my back bringing chills to my presence. None that weren’t already there. I felt her. My grandmother was in the room. That is how I knew it was time. People called my grandmother evil and insane. A possessed woman that only wanted to do harm. I for one disagree. She stood up for what she believed in. As I will do when I feel ready.

     I closed my British History book and pulled out my favorite book. Its leathery cover was peeling, because of the burnings. How I longed to pick it off,a habit I had, but the book was so valuable to me. Its old pages reeked of death, but why should I care? It was my only connection to my grandmother.The odor blew against my face as I whipped the stiff pages to the calling which would get her attention. As my lips recited the few words, my stomach churned, even though this was nothing new. The fire ascended, and then the chills returned, but it wasn’t from my hair. “Hello” I said, but as she took the breath to respond, the doorknob turned, and the door swung open. In the millisecond that the event occurred, the whoosh of her being blew on my face. When she left Amanda came in. My “frenemy”, my roommate, the most popular girl on campus…Amanda Prescott. “Still studying?” She asked with a pitty, as if I was some kind of school-obsessed maniac. I rolled my eyes with an obvious expression of anger. “You better hurry up if you want to come along. Me and some other friends are going to a nightclub off campus.”

      “I’d rather not,” I replied. Her corny, tacky, frilly pink skirt shuffled while her oversized heels thudded on the old hard wood floor. As she turned around, she properly flipped her wavy long hair. How I disliked her, no…I hated her! When the dorm door closed, I listened closer for the hallway door to close. When it did I took out my the same book that I had hid in my under my uniform skirt when Amanda walked in. I hurriedly slammed the book onto the desk and opened straight to the page. I recited the few little words and this time my heart filled with sorrow for she never came back that day. I gave up and went to bed. Wishing and knowing that I don’t belong in this time period.

                                                                     * * *

      I woke up extra early to try to summon her back to my empty room. 5:00 AM, I took out my burned book and recited the few little words once again. When my lips froze, the fire arose as the temperature went down, as usual. I held my rosary tightly in the few seconds that it took the fire to die down. A hand on my shoulder, and footstep on the floor, I knew she was there. “Why did you leave yesterday?” I ask her.

“I had business to attend to,” she replied in her old British tone.

“What business?” I exclaimed angrily. But then my facial expression showed an apology. As did hers with approval.

“Somebody invited me to play a game.”                                                                            “I see. About Amanda, Can you help me with something?” I inquired sweetly.    “Anything.”

“Amanda isn’t my favorite person, as you can tell. But, I wanted to make her suffer. Bad” I said.

“As you know from your history book, I think I can help you,” she replied with pride.