October 26

Dear Diary,

All I do is lie in the bed in the shape of a waning moon, wondering when my house will stop feeling like a prison. The one broken panel from my ceiling fan watches me from the crack in my closet, reminding me of the ruckus I caused.

It whispers, “Ha ha, you lost.”

After it broke, Annie came rushing to my room and called the ambulance. I lost consciousness from the stress the extension cord had caused to my throat.

“Hold on, Sawyer!” she cried as my eyes closed. “Hold on!”

When we cross paths in the house, she watches me like I may vanish right in front of her, and she always needs to keep track. I was walking to the kitchen earlier. She was by the front door, staring in the mirror, adding touches to her Halloween makeup for some party. Momma was in the living room in between, her eyes glued to a dating show. I took a pack of Dots from the Halloween bowl on the counter.

“Stop reading my diary, Sawyer.” Annie’s disembodied voice hurtled from the other room.

“I didn’t read your diary,” I said. “I don’t read your diary.”

“You think I’m stupid? I notice when you put it back wrong on the shelf.”

It was very odd she’d think I’d want her innermost thoughts. I’d certainly choose to invade the thoughts of someone more talented and ambitious. “I don’t care about your stupid life the way you’re obsessed with mine.”

“Please.” She laughed. “People are only obsessed with you because you force them to be with your impulsive ways.”

“Annie . . .” Momma chimed in with a warning tone as she watched the TV. “Don’t start, please. Just get along.”

It was probably Momma who read her diary. Momma loves to know everything about us. She snoops in our rooms and swears she doesn’t. She found a stash of gay porn magazines under my bed and didn’t look at me for a week.

She doesn’t say sorry for anything when she knows someone is being blamed for something she did.

Annie asked a million and one questions. “Are you in there getting candy? Aren’t you too old for that now? Don’t you want to go to a party?”

“I don’t need parties, or friends.” I’ll never be the people who travel in packs. She can taunt me all she wants and treat me like a problem. I’ll never be those people.

“And I guess you don’t want a girlfriend either?”

I stormed back to my room and slammed the door so hard the piece of shitty wood bounced right back open and I had to slam it again. I love the sound of a good slam.

Momma started screaming, “Annie, REALLY?”

She forgets that just two months ago, I almost died.