Pause, Replay

Eleven

[sorry for the long wait-this was written on my phone so please excuse all typos.]

Dear Diary,

So.

I'm guessing that you're just dying to hear what happened today with Kara. I know Mom and Dad were because they practically pounced on me as soon as I turned the key in the lock.

Mom had been frantic, wringing her hands together. "So, how did it go?" she'd asked, her eyes apprehensive as if she expected the worst which I guess was understandable since she'd known about the whole Kara ordeal the moment it happened back in tenth grade.

Dad, on the other hand, was more diplomatic in his questions, sticking to a simple monotonous "Did you have fun?"

I answered both questions with a reassuring smile and a vague "It was fine" before sprinting to my room and digging you out of my dresser's bottom drawer. I want you to be the first to know how things went. Probably because I've come to think of you as the closest thing I'll ever have to a confidante.

Yes, I know it may seem crazy to consider an inanimate object as a confidante but, truth be told, I'd rather be crazy and happy then "sane" and miserable. Besides, you're a good listener-you never interrupt or judge me-and I don't have to worry about you spilling my secrets. That's a definite plus.

As you may have guessed by now, things did not go all that well today. I say all that well because it wasn't all bad but, in my eyes, the bad part was so bad that it managed to overshadow all the good bits of this evening.

So, I headed over to Kara's house around ten-thirty. She still lived at the same place-it was a two-storey house a few neighbourhoods away, recently renovated, all windows and blue tiles. The doorbell was still busted, just like I remembered so I had to settle for the bell-shaped brass knocker.

It was her mom who answered the door. Her auburn hair was up in a ponytail and her glowing voice was devoid of makeup-not that she need any since she looked incredibly good for her age. "Jaïya! Come in, come in." Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled at me and ushered me into the house, shoes and all. No matter how long I'd be friends with Kara, I'll probably never get used to the fact that they wear their shoes indoor too. Right now, Mrs.Morin was wearing nude pumps. "It's been so long. Amy will certainly be happy to see you."

Just then, Kara's little sister stormed into the foyer. Surprised, I backed up into a potted plant, nearly tripping on it, but catching myself before I fall. "Mommy, mommy!" she cried, tugging on the hem of her mother's shirt. "Kara is holding my toys hostage. And she said a bad word."

"Only because you started it, you little thief," Kara yelled from her room.

Mrs.Morin rolled her green eyes and ruffled her daughter's hair before crouching so that she was at eye-level with her. "Amy, give Kara whatever you took and apologize." Amy nodded. "And Kara," her mom added, raising her voice so that her eldest could hear her. "Give Amy what you took and don't swear!"

"As long as I get my stuff back!"

"Why doesn't she have to apologize?" Amy pouted.

"Because you started it," Mrs.Morrin said playfully, getting back up. She turned to me and her eyes got wide, almost as if she'd forgotten I was there. "Kara's in her room, Jaïya. Right down the hall and second room on the left, you remember, right?"

"I remember."

"Jay-Jay!" Amy, finally noticing me, pulled away from her mom and wrapped her stubby seven-year-old arms around my waist. "You're back! I missed you!"