The Diary of Rachel J. Walker

January 14, 2024

I'm not sure why I'm doing this. I hate writing, and Nana knows that - but she still wants me to write this stupid diary.

It's not really my fault that I ended up in 'Aunt Lainey's School for Troubled Girls', anyways.

Am I a troubled girl? I never thought so. Sure, I got into some mischief, but what self-respecting 13 year-old wouldn't?

Its not fair. Its not fair because I'm here, learning how to make friendship bracelets and play 30 questions and talk about my feelings while Amber is out there, living happily ever after with MY PARENTS.

Perhaps I should explain. Nana always says, 'When telling stories, you should always pause to explain'. so that's what I'll do, not because I want this diary to turn out good but because I love Nana so there.

Anyways, my name is Rachel Walker. I am thirteen and I love dogs and the color blue and my Nana and nothing else.

Well, maybe Harper.

Nana is mom's mom, but she is really more like a mom to me than anything else. When I was little, if I fell down and scraped my knee, it was Nana who gave me great big hug and a My Little Pony band-aid and a grape popsicle.

Mom was always too busy.

My mother is a lawyer, and a good one at that. Dad is a movie producer. I love my parents, but they never seem to have time for me. We have plenty of money, so I always had lots of toys and clothes and books and games, but that's not what I wanted. All I wanted was attention.

I guess that's why I beat up that kid.

And stole the bike. And vandalized our local Walmart.

I only did it so that my parents would pay attention to me - I didn't expect them to get so mad. They didn't notice when I did small things, they just shrugged off the calls from the principle and had small talks with me about "No more throwing kid's shoes onto the roof, do you hear?"

It got even worse when Amber moved in.

Amber is a foreign exchange student from Norway, and she is the 100% WORST. She steals my stuff and wrecks the house and then BLAMES IT ON ME, which is ironic because of all the stuff I did to get noticed. You would think that a sixteen year old would know better, but Amber is awful and I hate her and its her STUPID FAULT THAT I'M HERE IN THIS AWFUL SMELLY BUNK ROOM IN THE FIRST PLACE. If it wasn't for her, I might not have been so desperate for mom and dad's attention, and I might not have done all those things. Fact of the matter is, I wasn't originally supposed to come here, originally I was just supposed to pay a fine and go home. But then dad muttered something about, "Of course, she would have to turn out to be a problem child."

And oh boy, did that make me mad. If he thought I was a problem child, then so be it. I was going to be the biggest problem child ever. What I did next landed me in this 'Problem Solving School'.

I bit the officer. I kicked him, hit him, even threw a chair at him. all because I was so, so mad.

Mad at Amber for stealing my parent's.

Mad at my parent's for not doing anything when the officer suggested that I be taken to a "special school" where I could be properly taken care of.

Nana was the only one who resisted. She tried to convince my parents that I wasn't dangerous, that I just needed more time, but they didn't listen. They just signed the papers as Amber told COMPLETE LIES about me assaulting her when she tried to borrow my shirt.

And that is why Nana is my only family now, and the only reason I have not run away from this prison is because Nana made me promise I wouldn't.

So now I'm here, writing in this little notebook with a pink sparkly gel pen.

I hate pink.

I don't see why Nana thinks this will help, but I will do it, for her.

-Rachel J. Walker

January 15, 2024

I have been here for two days now, and I officially hate it. The owner is a middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair and a southern accent who insists we call her 'Auntie', and her idea of "helping us overcome our problems" is through clay beads and singalongs.

Nana called yesterday after dinner (which consisted of tacos that smelled suspiciously like mouse, and a Mexican drink called 'horchata' - which tasted like if you diluted milk with water and put cinnamon sugar in it).

Nana wanted to know how I was doing, and if I liked it here, so I told her that I was fine and it was really nice here - a very big, very obvious lie. But that was enough for Nana, bless her 85 year-old heart. Then she asked if I had made friends, and I didn't know how to answer. All the girls here are stuck-up jerks, and on my first day they 'initiated' me by giving me a swirlie. The leader of their gang is a six-foot giant of a red head named Bertha. Nobody will tell me why she's here, but anyone with the name 'Bertha' was doomed to end up here eventually.

I made a sculpture of Amber during free time yesterday, and once it dried; I dropped it out of my fourth-story window. Clay Amber is now in a million pieces in the middle of the sidewalk, where she belongs.

I miss Harper so much. She was the only one at school who didn't think I was just a rich weirdo with a problem for causing mayhem. She was the only one who stuck up for me when our evil algebra teacher, Ms Pike, accused me of vandalizing the whiteboards. (I only did that once!) And most importantly, she was the only actual friend I've ever had. We've known each other since preschool, and we are really more like sisters than best friends. Completely opposite sister. Harper could never do anything bad enough to end up here, and even if she did; she's to cute to punish. With her long blond hair and babyish face, she looks like a real life pixie.

Auntie Lainey is ringing the 'lights out' bell now, I guess I will write more tomorrow.

Maybe.

-Rachel J. Walker

January 17, 2024

So, I didn't end up writing yesterday. I went canoeing instead. Usually, I enjoy canoeing - but for the most part, it was awful. Bertha and her goons ended up getting me stuck in a tree branch. I was about to climb into their canoe and punch their lights out, but someone stopped me.

Her name is Ivy. she has red hair and a mischievous face, like she is constantly plotting her next evil scheme. Anyways, she came up from behind and flipped Bertha's canoe.

Obviously, Aunt Lainey was horrified, and punished Ivy by taking away her dessert privileges - but Ivy just nodded, her hazel eyes twinkling, and said "yes'm" very respectfully.

She is awesome.

She is no Harper, but she is awesome.

I talked to Nana again today, it went pretty much the same as last time. She told me that she loved me and missed me, and that my parents missed me, too. I told her I loved and missed her, too - and then I had to hold the phone away from my ear so she wouldn't hear me sniffling. My parents don't miss me. If they did, they would do something to get me out of this place instead of continuing life like nothing ever happened, probably spoiling Amber and completely forgetting about me. If they really missed me, they would call. They would send a letter or something - anything - to tell me that they love me and care about me.

I know they don't.

I still don't understand why Nana wants me to do this. It's not like writing in this little red notebook is going to make anything better - if anything, it will probably just get me labeled a dork and I'll never be able to sit on the couch during bracelet making. Not that I care, all those bracelets get used for is ammo on the younger kids.

Aunt Lainey talked with me yesterday, asking how I was getting along and if I had heard from my parents. I said I'm fine, Thanks for asking, and no I haven't heard from my parents and I don't expect to and I don't care if I never do.

She just gave me that sad 'oh you poor young brainless child' look that grown-ups always do and said that I was just being stubborn.

Well, maybe I am. Maybe I like being stubborn, just like I like being a problem child.

I don't want to write anymore tonight.

-Rachel J. Walker

January 18, 2024

It is meatloaf night - Help!!!!

-Rachel J. Walker

January 20, 2024

I don't understand why people start with "Dear Diary". I mean, its not like the diary can understand us.

Ivy and I have becomes good friends - she even convinced Aunt Lainey to let her move into my bunk room! She has a way with words. When I asked her what she did to end up here, she just laughed and winked and flipped her red hair over her shoulder and said; "Lets just say, I... borrowed some things from a store, without their consent. On multiple occasions."

So all I could think was: Awesome. I have a kleptomaniac roommate. It turns out that Ivy and me are a lot alike - we have the same taste in music, animals, movies - and we both generally dislike Bertha. so that is a plus.

We had to write letters to whoever we wanted today, some kind of "getting our feelings out into the open" project. As you know - or should know, by now - I hate writing, so this was torture.

I wrote my letter to Amber. I said that I missed her and didn't blame her for anything, and hoped to see her again soon. Then at the bottom in bright pink Sharpie I wrote, NOT!!!!!!! I HOPE YOU DIE A PAINFUL DEATH THAT INVOLVES BOWLING BALLS AND 100-STORY BUILDINGS!

And then I filled the envelope with green glitter - a gesture which seems innocent enough, but in reality is totally devious. Nobody like to open an envelope and then have it explode glitter everywhere, hopefully onto your designer clothes and perfect hair and into your mouth and eyes. I do not take revenge lightly.

Aunt Lainey asked if she could read what I wrote, but I just got all fake-sniffly and said no, thank you, it was private.

Ivy wrote to her uncle, and when I asked why she didn't just write to her parents; she looked away and said she was adopted. She lives with her Aunt and Uncle in their little house by a pond.

In all honesty, I didn't know what to say. I knew that there were orphans and stuff, I just didn't really think that I would ever meet one. It made me feel pretty guilty about my big house in LA and how ungrateful I've been. I mean, Amber is awful, but she could be worse.

Same with my parents, I guess. At least I have my real parents, and they sort of kind of almost tolerate me,

And; I have Nana. Nana is brilliant and I love her so much. I am so lucky to have her, and I hope she lives forever.

It almost made me feel bad enough to erase one of the exclamation points on my letter to Amber - not quite, but almost.

I have to go down for dinner now, I will be thinking about Ivy. Maybe, if I ever get sprung from this insufferable prison, I can do something to help her and her family.

Your Author - are you an Author if you keep a diary? I guess I never thought about it.

Your Writer Person,

-Rachel J. Walker