Chapter One
The reason (or excuse) for why it took us so long to move to
Our previous home was on the sixth floor of a badly maintained block of flat, and by ‘flat’ I mean really FLAT. The small living space posed a big problem for my twin brother Daniel, who had a sudden growth spurt (growth explosion, more like) after we hit seventeen six months ago.
He was once a scrawny, pimply faced brat. Now, he’s a scrawny, pimply faced, six-foot-four tall brat.
Daniel’s monstrosity heightened as well. The fact that he was now half a foot taller than I was did not bug me at all; if I ever shot up like that, Grandmamma’s gonna go hysterical (She’s pure Chinese). I was perfectly ignorant of Daniel’s new life until he barged in rudely.
“Can you do this? I bet you can’t do this, I betcha can’t,”
And he’d reach up to the ceiling, or grab stuff from the highest shelves like it was the most challenging thing mankind has ever encountered. Wow. Oooh. Applaud, applaud.
I was more matured, and of course I ignored him. Until he started to put everything that I usually have contact with on the top most shelves, shelves where mum keeps her ‘special occasion’ crockery. The cereal box, mugs, the chocolate tin, Smarties, Maggi…
“MUM!!”
Mum’d just raised her coffee mug to her lips and put it down again, her eyes not moving from the newspaper. “Deidre. Get a chair, don’t be lazy.”
“But MUM!! Why can’t he just put them back on the table?!”
“Look, Deidre,” Daniel would lean forward over his bowl of dry Koko Krunch, sighing as though I was a little kid who had just asked the same question again and again. And again.
Okay, I did, but I was not a little kid.
“This is a small dining table. You know how mum hates this small table cluttered up, messy yeah? Se, no where to put her newspaper, her arms will get tired. Pity mum lah. So I put the stuff up there laah, where else, right? So get a chair, don’t be lazy.”
It was sad that I could not reach the potato on top of his neck anymore, but it was quicker for my teeth to lash out at his arms, since they were almost parallel to each other, so that evened things out.
Daniel did not cry. Instead, he chose the scene of a hero whose legs had just been chopped off. “I’ll be okay, mum, it’s—it’s fine, I’m oh—okay, really, mum, don’t—don’t worry…”
My laptop was taken away, and I was grounded, until the bite marks on Daniel’s left arm were healed.
“Not very long, then!” I yelled at the door. “Small, SMALL punctures only what!! Baby!”
It was not long before retribution. Daniel’s feet stuck out over the end of his short bed. Also, he had to duck down every time he wanted to go through a doorway, or get hit in the forehead. Sixteen times, I’ve counted; Daniel can be so forgetful, especially whilst having fun insulting me.
“You call that a skirt? Or did you steal something from the hot air balloon g—”
Pawf!! Can you see the red bull’s-eye?
***
Dad had certain issues with the management of the flat. Anger issues. Mum disliked the environment of the flat; the playground was a living museum of vandalism, our neighbors are fans of
Dad had tried bringing these issues up to the management of the flat. That led to said anger issues.
We had asked our parents about how we ended up here. It turned out that even though very small, the flat was once a very neat, safe place, more than seventeen years ago. So they chose to live here after they got married.
But still. Weren’t they expecting kids?
“I just started work back then, okay?” Dad had said, slightly flustered.
The pee and the
“Not like you would.” Daniel raised an eyebrow when he overheard me whining about how tiny our home was to dad.
I so would. Not often, maybe twice a year or so, but I would.
Daniel was the only one who did not mind staying. He actually loved the place, since there were shops and a mall nearby, where he could spend his time at. Also, he’d made many friends. Some of them, I’m sure, were major contributors to the living museum of vandalism.
But like I said, our small living space started to really bother the brat and his bruised potato, until at last, he gave the green light.
So, that’s how the move to
Chapter Two
I would not be able to describe the neighborhood of
Only dad laughed.
I stayed inside our new home during the two busy days, mainly because Daniel got the best room. It was spacious and was on the ground floor; both of us were sick of small, ‘comfy’ spaces and stairs.
Especially stairs.
I got a semi-spacious room on the second floor. I would have been very happy with it, except for the journey that I had to take up and down the stairs. Mum and dad said that it would be ‘safer’ on the second floor.
Safe? From WHAT? Floods?
“You never know.”
So I stayed in and sulked instead of exploring our new neighborhood. I know, very immature, but whenever I look at the stairs, anger boils within me.
The logical thing to do would be to go out, away from the stairs, then, right? But that would mean seeing Daniel, and boiling anger shall no longer boil; it shall spew out through my mouth like blood.
Technically, it was safer on the second floor. No stairs visible, no king and king-sized brat visible, just me and my stuff.
Except for that one thing. That small frayed book under the desk was not my stuff.
I crawled under the desk and reach out for the book. Though the plastic on the hard covers was scratched up, it was rather clean, not a speck of dust on it. Not surprising, I guess, since the wooden-tiled floor was squeaky clean too. I sat up and browsed through the small book. Immediately I recognized the ‘diary entry format’ thing that I learnt in class, with the dates on top and a first person viewpoint. A diary!
A tidy diary. The handwriting looked like a classical font, with long loops and an even slant to the right. There were small pictures pasted to the pages, notes, dry flowers and a few assorted bookmarks. On the inside of the back cover was a small pocket, where some photographs were inserted into. Everything was nicely done, but not overly organized. Must be a girl’s.
I did not really examine the diary, and obviously I did not read it; a stranger’s privacy was still privacy, yeah?
So I left it on the desk, and finished unpacking my things before going downstairs for dinner. Stairs.
***
Daniel burst out from his room. Keith and Leann looked up at their son in mid-talk over dinner. Deidre ignored him, her eyes glued to the television; a documentary on hamsters.
But it was her whom Daniel made an irritated beeline for. “Where’s it?!”
Deidre only acknowledged his presence when Daniel stood in front of the telly. She looked at him coldly. “Finally noticed your brain’s missing?”
“My wallet,” Daniel said through gritted teeth.
“I dunno. Now move over, the hamster’s more interesting than your crotch.”
“Deidre!” Daniel yelled. She winced. “Deidre you b****—”
“Daniel!” Keith stood up and gave an even louder yell. “Watch your mouth! And Deidre, you’d better change your attitude!”
Deidre stood up furiously, the top of her head only reaching Daniel’s chin. “Look I don’t know where your stuff is!”
“You stole it to pay back for me getting that room!”
“Daniel! It’s probably somewhere in your room,” Leann walked over. “Go and check.”
“I did!! I checked again and again!”
“Check again.” Keith said. Daniel threw Deidre a dirty look, and stormed off, muttering. The two parents turned to their daughter, whose face looked as black as her twin’s. “Deidre, did you?”
“Of course not.” Deidre said to the floor, annoyed. “You know I’d never steal.”
“You won’t, but you’re infamous for taking revenge on Daniel. Both of you are.” Keith sighed. “Deidre, please try to— no. Please try not to raise your voice, no matter how angry you are at Daniel, just control it. Fights in the family are very ugly things to see.”
“Or maybe it’s just him.” Deidre muttered.
“You look just like him, Deidre?” Leann said, raising her eyebrow. “And unfortunate or not, you’re family. Stop fighting or we’ll have to ground both of you until Christmas.”
“Fine.” Deidre said, and walked off. It was not like she had anyone to celebrate it with anyway; all her bestfriends were away.
Back in her room, Deidre sat down on her bed, looking around helplessly. Normally, she’d be playing her guitar, but it was broken; she accidentally dropped it yesterday from the stairs. Urgh. Books? No, not in the mood. She’d like to go bake something, but the oven was not properly installed yet. Television was best. But she’d rather count sheep than face her parents’ lecture on sibling love.
Deidre looked at the black book. She had heard her parents talk about the previous inhabitants of this house before. It was owned by some rich guy, but he lived in a bungalow some place else. The tenants here included a college girl, a working lady, a father and his son. Perhaps the book belonged to the college girl? Deidre was sure that it could be returned to her, and it should be; it looked really well-kept and treasured. Maybe her contact number would be in the diary.
Deidre opened the cover, and began searching for contact details. But her eyes fell upon a few words on the first page, and subconsciously, she started to read.
Dear Pierre, by the time you’ve found this, I shall have disappeared. Please do not worry, I’m safe. This is a $10 notebook, worthless. But I know you, and I wish that by the time I return, this notebook would be priceless. Anything that you’d say to me, say to this. Anything that you’d show me, show to this. Paper and ink do not amount to much, but when you sincerely mean the words you write, you’ll find yourself. I’m sorry to have left like this, but I’ll return, and my motivation would be to see the life you’ve lived during my absence, to read this book, to know who you have become. And only you know who that will be. I love you so much. Mother.
The handwriting became messier towards the end, as though written in haste. Deidre stared. What was this? Disappeared? “Nancy Drew?” Deidre murmured subconsciously, turning the page, half expecting fine print and the start of a mystery story, published by Penguins.
But it was not. There they were, words scrawled on tidily, the handwriting that filled most of the book.
It’s been 27 days. I really don’t know what to say. Angry? Hurt? This is beyond words. But I trust mother.
We’re now in
Father had just looked at what I’m doing, I think he knows. He knows more than I do, actually. Isn’t it easier if he could just be like mother? I have to think about my ‘emotions’ to write, this isn’t homework. Homework is easy, I miss school very much. Strange, I used to write thousands of words a day but now, my hand’s beginning to feel cramped. My legs are. I was following father the entire day, with no idea where he was going. I tried asking, but he won’t tell.
I really don’t like this. I think something dangerous is going on.
Father’s bringing me out for dinner. It’s almost
Deidre hesitated, before flipping to the last entry.
Again.
I’ll miss this place, especially Kay. I’m wondering whether to tell them. Renee won’t be happy. I shouldn’t tell them. Problems, and father really has a lot of those right now. I shouldn’t add on.
When, I’m not sure though. Father’s not telling me, but he did tell me to pack and get ready to leave immediately. Again.
Kay… Renee… Deidre turned back a few pages, scanning the words until she found their descriptions.
Moved into
I met a few friends. It was rather funny. The kids snuck into our backyard and looked through the kitchen window as I was brushing my teeth over the sink. I choked on toothpaste. Of course I let them in, and father did not say anything so I brought them into my room to chat.
Kay said that since we did not go out at all after we came, they had no choice but to sneak in, for us to meet. I was glad that they did.
Kay Williams is a year younger than I am. He’s a Sino, Sabahan, with Eurasian blood. He’s the leader of the pack, I guess, and has this very contagious laugh. By the sound of his voice, I knew that Kay could sing well. It’s probably the first time I’ve met someone so comfortable to be around with. His words just come out right. Also, Kay looked extremely sincere, like an open book.
One of the younger girls, Renee, she’s rather weird. She hung on to my arm and kept calling me darling. Afterwards Kay told me that she has ADD, but with me her attention seemed to overflow enough. She’s cute, I guess, and the way she has a crush on me. I don’t mind, this is the first time any girl has liked me so much before.
Deidre smiled. Behind that page was a small picture. Deidre studied it. Four boys, five girls. One of them must be
Deidre turned back, and continued reading again.
By the time her watch showed three, Deidre had finished the entire book, and fell asleep with her heart beating fast.
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