The Diary Project (ASOUE)

25: The Exploration Project

Why was life so frustrating? I hadn't written in my diary for a few days and now that I wanted to, I couldn't find it anywhere. I turned the storage cupboard upside down, but to no avail. There was no way it was in here. There was nowhere left for it to hide.

The stupid book kept going missing and, as much as I hated the idea of The Diary Project when it first began, I was strangely attached to it now. I guess that's what happens when you pour all of your thoughts and feelings into something (well, maybe not all of them). Still, it made me anxious that my diary could just disappear into thin air and reappear later on. Was someone stealing it? I had a couple of suspects in mind but at the same time, things didn't really seem to add up.

If Carmelita and Marlene were behind it, why hadn't Carmelita "exposed" me like she had done to girls twice before? Why weren't my pages stapled to the walls?

I decided to rule them out, even though they were probably my biggest suspects. If they had got hold of my diary, they wouldn't be able to resist spilling each and every secret they found in there, not that there were many (if any at all). They couldn't be behind this, they didn't have the self control to resist embarrassing me. But if they weren't the ones taking my diary, then who was?

I remembered back to what Duncan was telling me the other day and headed towards Mr Remora's class. Maybe the haunted hallway could give me some answers.

The amount of students in the halls thinned as I got closer to my destination, until I turned the last corner and I was completely alone. The hallway was sealed off with a door that's meant to be locked but I'm assuming some other Prufrock kids dealt with that a while ago. I'd never thought to investigate this area of the school, mostly because I never really had a reason to. It made me wonder how many other people knew this area was unlocked but my question was answered as soon as I shouldered the rickety door open.

The floor was littered with old pieces of paper, almost all of it used, and there were food wrappers and other rubbish scattered around. Out of date library books were strewn about, a broken filing cabinet was left on it's side and at the other end of the corridor sat a pile of broken chairs. In short, it was a huge mess, a tipping ground for teachers and students alike, but I was intrigued.

Why had this hallway been locked? Why was it known as haunted? Why had no one bothered to clean all of this up?

But one question stood out from the rest: what's hiding in here?

I began my search sifting through papers and searching through cardboard boxes but didn't really find anything of interest. The majority of it was old homework, some completed, and pages that had been ripped clean from textbooks and notepads. None of it was any use to me so I moved on.

The filing cabinet had fallen onto the side where the drawers open. I tried to lift it up but failed, so instead I tried to roll it onto a different side.
It took all of my strength but I managed to push it over, releasing a plume of dust and dirt and a stray spider that skittered across the floor and into the next available box. One tug on the first filing cabinet drawer revealed that it was locked. My efforts had been for nothing.

I huffed and continued on through the mess. There had to be at least one notable thing in there.

I was crouched at the other end of the corridor, trying to dismantle the stack of chairs, when the door squeaked open. I panicked and dove behind a stack of boxes as light spilled onto the floor and leather shoes stepped in. There was another door on this end of the corridor, tucked around a short corner, and I slowly reached up to try and open it but it didn't budge. Just my luck.

The only thing I could do was sit and wait and hope that my breathing wasn't loud enough for the stranger to hear. The last thing I wanted was to be caught in a restricted area.

But as I peeked through a gap in the boxes, I realised that the person that had entered wasn't a teacher. It was Marlene.

She was stood, staring at the filing cabinet that I had moved, before she jolted around as if she knew someone was there. I was luckily still blocked from her view so after she did another 180, she seemed satisfied that she was alone.

She tip-toed over paper and squashed boxes, getting closer and closer to my hiding place, and when I was sure she had caught me and closed my eyes in anticipated of the conflict, her steps ceased.
Marlene pulled a dust sheet off of an object like she had done it a million times before, and pressed a few buttons before it whirred to life. I didn't dare look what she was doing while she was so close so instead I tried to guess what she was up to based on the sounds. But the only things I could hear were mechanical sounds: buzzes, grumbles, whirrs and buttons beeping.

What seemed like an eternity passed before the sounds stopped and the corridor was plunged into silence again. I held my breath for as long as I could in an attempt to stay undetected, but I luckily didn't have to do it for too long. Marlene's footsteps got further and further away before the door squeaked and she was gone. I couldn't believe my luck, and slowly glanced around the boxes to make sure she had definitely left. I let myself smile for a second when I realised she had. That was close.

Now that I had the hallway to myself again, I investigated the machine that Marlene had been using. Suddenly the sounds made sense: it was an old, industrial style photocopier. It was possibly the only object in the room that wasn't caked in dust which meant that, despite it's dated exterior, it looked brand new. Something else that was new, I noticed, was a sheet of paper resting in the tray: a freshly printed photocopy that had been left behind. Turning it over, I soon realised it was a diary entry.

My heart dropped. My diary was missing and now I had a photocopied entry in my hand. Only, it wasn't mine. None of it was. Not the handwriting and especially not the content.

Dear diary, I read to myself, I've been hanging out with him again. He's really nice to me and I'm nice to him back because I'm the kindest girl in the school. I'm also the prettiest, which is why he's in love with me. I mean, who isn't? All the girls are jealous of me because my face is flawless and my hair is always perfect. My whole self is perfect. But he's not. Honestly, I only talk to him because I like the attention. He likes me but I would never date him because he's soooo ugly. He's the most uninteresting boy I've ever met but I guess it is fun watching him go out of his way to impress me. I mean it's pathetic but it's fun.

I frowned. The horrible entry was unsigned. But it was clear who had written it. Who else was that conceited? It just surprised me that Marlene was working against Carmelita. I mean, why else would she be photocopying her diary? I just felt bad for the boy, whoever he was, because he was going to have one hell of a shock when this was exposed.

I sighed, tucking the paper into my pocket and leaving the hallway as quietly as I could. The adjoining corridor was empty so I had a quiet, uninterrupted walk back to the storage cupboard. When I arrived it was empty too, Duncan was probably around and about doing whatever, so I pulled the entry out again and tried to figure out who the boy was.

Reading it over a couple more times did nothing. I still had no idea who the note was talking about. Giving up, I dropped the paper and laid back on my makeshift bed. But my head hit something hard. I quickly sat up again and pulled back my thin pillow. There sat a familiar book. My diary. The diary that hadn't been there when I'd left.