The Diary of Rachel J. Walker

October 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?

It’s not fair. It’s 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 a 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, clothes, 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 principal 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 it’s 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 parents.

Mad at my parents 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 sniffled some sob story about all of the times I’ve threatened her, the big liar.

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

October 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 who’s 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 Brenda. Nobody will tell me why she's here, but anyone in the twenty-fourth century with the name 'Brenda' 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 sisters. Harper could never do anything bad enough to end up here, and even if she did; she's too 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

October 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. Brenda 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 Brenda'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 good 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

October 18, 2024

It is meatloaf night - Send help!!!!

-Rachel J. Walker

October 20, 2024

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

Ivy and I have become 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, winked, and flipped her red hair over her shoulder and said, "Let’s just say, I... borrowed some things from a store. Without their consent. On multiple occasions."

I asked her how many times was ‘multiple,’ and she had to think for a moment before holding up nine fingers.

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

Very mature, I know.

After that I filled the envelope with green glitter - a gesture which seems innocent enough, but in reality is totally devious. Nobody likes 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. Not my preferred form of revenge, but it was the best I could do with the supplies I had in this floral-wallpapered prison.

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. 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. Maybe. I’m not 100 percent sure that is possible.

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. I will have to ask where she lives.

I think I understand why Nana wanted me to do this now. I still don’t like it, but I get it.

-Rachel J. Walker

October 22, 2024

You will never guess what I found out!!

I asked Ivy yesterday, and it turns out that she lives just an hour and a half away from us! That means that when we are released, we can still see each other! I am the happiest I’ve been in days.

I made another friend yesterday. Her name is Berkley, and she is ten. She has the most beautiful chocolate skin and hazel eyes you’ve ever seen, and her personality reminds me so much of Harper I can’t believe it.

Gosh, I miss Harper. She sent me a letter, and I almost cried – the paper still smelled of her Pink Mango perfume, and she had enclosed a drawing she had done of us together.

I forgot to mention this earlier, but Harper is the most amazing artist ever. She can sit down for ten minutes and create a piece of art that, in my totally not biased BFF opinion, is museum worthy.

The picture shows us holding melting chocolate ice-cream-cones in front of the Empire State Building, wearing our Camp Half-Blood t-shirts and smiling like the Percy Jackson geeks we are. Harper’s dad took the picture for us while we were on vacation (or, more accurately, while I tagged along on their vacation because A: my parents didn’t care/didn’t have time to plan a family vacation of our own, and B: according to Harper’s mom, vacay is always more fun with me around. I would say that she is just being nice, but who am I to argue?) right after I dared Harper to walk up to the guy at the desk and say, “Sixth-hundredth floor, please.”

It took quite a bit of bribery, but she did end up doing it! Blushing like crazy but doing it.

I wonder if he gets that a lot.

That day was probably the best day of my entire life. Chocolate ice cream and Percy Jackson references, followed by an entire cheese pizza just for me and Harper? BEST FREAKING DAY EVER.

Oh Diary, I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time away from Harper, and it feels like half of me is missing. The better half, the one who refrains from staying awake all night envisioning all of the ways that Amber could have an unfortunate “accident” between now and the time I get out.

Speaking of getting out, we had another field trip earlier.

It would seem that Aunt Lainey believes in frequent outings, just like she believes that clay beads and discussion groups are a good way to work through emotional damage – but I’m not complaining.

Today’s field trip was to the Zoo. Oh goody.

It wasn’t that bad – some parts were even funny, like the time when Berkley managed to climb into the goat enclosure without getting caught because she wanted a better view of the baby goats – that girl is like a monkey when baby animals are on the line.

Oh, wow! It is five minutes till the lights go out. I’ve been writing for nearly a half hour. I think I am starting to enjoy writing in this little notebook – isn’t that wild?

Today was a good day.

-Rachel J. Walker

October 24, 2024

It snowed today. Not a lot, but enough to be visible on the ground. BOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Speaking of “boo,” Halloween is coming up. I had completely forgotten about it until Aunt Lainey announced that we would be having a charity Halloween party. From what I understand, we are going to dress up in costumes provided by the people of Carson, LA. We will then be walking around town and giving out supplies to needy families (in LA? Seriously?) instead of trick-or-treating, and then coming back to the school for a party of our own.

I was excited about this until Brenda snickered something along the lines of, “Rachel is lucky – she doesn’t even need a costume to scare little kids away.” And I came SO CLOSE to flipping a table on her, but fortunately Ivy and Berkley were there to stop me. Party poopers.

When I was little, Nana used to help me make my costumes instead of buying them from the store like everyone else. One year I was the Grinch while Harper was Cindy Lou Who – and the next I was Gollum from The Lord of the Rings.

I was a fun nine-year-old.

Nana called an hour ago, and this time I didn’t have to lie to her. I still don’t like it here, but I have made friends. Aunt Lainey isn’t nearly as bad as I thought she was, and if you stay out of her way; even Brenda isn’t terrible.

Really, I just miss Nana and Harper.

And maybe even my parents, a little bit – but don’t expect me to say I want to see Amber again soon.

Even I have my limits.

I have decided that writing is not as terrible as I thought it was. Maybe someday, I will write an autobiography or something – I mean, who wouldn’t want to read about me? I am a very interesting subject.

At least when Aunt Lainey asks what we want to be when we grow up, I will have an answer.

I want to be an author.

-Rachel J. Walker