Finding The Badboy's Diary [#ONC2022]

Chapter 2: The Diary

Chelsea's POV

Eying it warily as if it's a ticking bomb, I flip it left and right to make sure I'm safe. Certifying it isn't what I think it to be, I focus back on the name like it's a written trick from space.

I shrug, guessing he must have had no idea of it missing, and flip it open. The first page is empty with bare horizontal lines, a date written at the top. Acknowledging it's a supposed diary I slam it shut with eyes wide.

To be sure my irises aren't deceiving me, I unfold it for the second time and gape at the blank page. Curiosity gets the better of me and so I turn a few pages, amazement is not a big enough word to describe my reaction when I come across a sheet of paper that isn't filled with only lines and a date.

This particular page contains alphabets that form words and words which form sentences. The handwriting, a direct copy of the one used to scribble the name at the front brown cover of the book.

Fear grips me at this and so I close the book for possibly the last time in my life and grip it to my chest, my orbs darting left and right as if this is a trap and someone might be watching me.

When I catch a view of no one, the grievance of the situation dwells in my chest, and before I know it, laughter bubbles within me. I am not able to control it as I erupt in flares of giggles at the irony of the situation, the bullied finding the diary of her bully, how unlikely is that?

My chuckles seize immediately I hear a lock click, accompanied by footsteps. It dawns on me that dusk is fast approaching and that I need to return this diary and mock its owner, thus I may be lucky to still get a hold of him before he goes far.

My feet start moving, and so I'm outside the school doors, no sight of Terry in a one-mile radius. I burst into a sprint in the hopes of seeing a flick of blonde hair and ripped jeans but it's all in vain as I don't see anyone with that description as I do more than my daily dose of physical activity. In my rush, I break apart couples who hold hands, nearly knocking down a ten-year-old boy, and peep into a few cafes that line the sidewalk leading to and fro of our school.

It happens that I've officially lost him, therefore I stop at a corner and shove the thick brown covered book into my schoolbag. Stroking the hair out of my face, I progress in the direction of my home.

I cross the street, and stride to uptown where my house is located. Well mine and a few other rich kids and their families, yeah, rich kids like Terry. Arriving at the iron gates, I shuffle past as it is opened for me. I give Ricky a nod and amble across the interlocked flooring, past the garage, and climb the three stairs to the entrance door.

I bend the gold handle and push the wooden barrier open to step foot on the marble tiles in the visitors' living room. I take a seat on the brown leather cushion and unlace my shoes, knowing mom would have a fit if she sees me with shoes on in the house.

Snatching it from the ground, I rise and make it to the main living room where I hear Adelaide giggle and mom's soft voice, together with the aroma of a meal I don't want to believe till I see it with my two eyes.

"I'm home!" I announce in the spacey room, my voice having a slight echo on the white painted walls that's the exact color as the exterior. The same daffodils that fill the four vases at each corner of the room line the foot of the outside walls, adding beauty to the plain color.

Fresh air wafts in from the glass windows which is free from pollution as that in the city. The red curtains swish to the music of the wind, casting a beautiful glow on the reflective tiles and bringing about a soft but beautiful background that complements the blue leather couches and glass center and side tables with gold-rimmed legs.