The Diary

By Maryellen Schemel

Brandy is a seventh grader who feels invisible. Her English class is given the assignment to keep a diary for a few weeks, and Brandy takes snippets of conversations from girls in her class and creates a make-believe world in which she is popular, loved and cared for. When real-life gets too painful, Brandy escapes the only way she knows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781532076350

Maryellen Schemel

Ms. Schemel began writing when she went back to finish college at age 40. This book is the product of a writing assignment! Ms. Schemel lives happily with her husband and two curious cats!

Book preview

Chapter One

Brandy heard a distant clanking and pulled the blankets off her head. The clanking continued. Mom? Mama! What’s that noise? Mom! Are you awake? But of course, there was no answer. Brandy sat up and looked at her clock. She was late. Again. She hopped out of bed and grabbed clothes off the pile on her chair. She had hoped to try a new hairstyle for school today, but that would have to wait. She headed toward her mom’s bedroom, and found the source of the clanging on the way. The back-door latch hadn’t closed and the door was bumping against the hinge. Again. Brandy stuck her head into her mom’s room and saw the empty bed. Again. Brandy sighed. Another crappy morning in another crappy week. She took care of her morning routine, alone as usual and headed for school. As she walked, the guilt over being angry with her mom took over her thoughts. And the usual morning mantra started in. I know mom has to work to support us. I know that. I know she makes good money at the diner. I know that. I know she works crappy crappy hours. I know that. I know she doesn’t have time for me. I know that.

Brandy slumped down in her third period English class as the teacher read the closing paragraph of Diary of a Young Girl and shut the book. Mrs. Sutter took a moment before she looked up at her class. There you have the last entry of Anne Frank in her diary. I’d like you to answer the next 15 questions on your study sheet and be ready for discussion tomorrow. Groans popped up from around the room. Mrs. Sutter smiled and held her hand up. But wait, she said. There’s more. I’d like each of you to have the experience of keeping a diary. Even if you have one now, I’d like you to start a new one just for this class. Keep an account of your life for two weeks. Think how much we learned about Anne from her dairy. Mrs. Sutter stood up and started walking slowly around the classroom. Anne felt free to share her inner most thoughts. I’d like you to do that, too, as much as you’re able. At the end of the two weeks, I’ll have you share some of the things you’ve written. Anne didn’t really expect that her diary would be analyzed by seventh graders, and you know that ours will be. She paused and chuckled with her students. But do the best you can. I promise I won’t read anyone’s out loud who doesn’t want his or hers read. Deal?

The only answer to Mrs. Sutter’s question was the sound of chairs being pushed back, and the clump of feet as her third period class funneled through the door. She walked back around to sit at her desk and began straightening her papers, getting them ready for her next class. She started to hum to herself, but was interrupted by a small cough. She was startled, thinking that she had been alone, and looked quickly toward the sound.

Brandy Blair stood by her desk, arms folded awkwardly around her books, eyes cast down.

Brandy? Can I help you with something? Brandy didn’t look up, so Mrs. Sutter tried again. Brandy, what do you need? Ask quick. I don’t want you to be late for your next class.

Well, Brandy started slowly, I just wanted to make sure that you really won’t read these diaries out loud if we don’t want you to. I don’t know if I can write if you’re going to read it out loud.

I promise, Brandy, I won’t read yours to anyone if you don’t want me to.

Will our grade be just the same, even if you don’t read it out loud?

Honest and true, same grade even if I don’t share it with a soul. OK?

OK. I guess it will be. OK, I mean.

Have fun writing, Brandy. You’ve really been working hard at bringing your grade up since last quarter. You must be proud of yourself.

Brandy seemed not to hear the praise as she slid past her teacher and down the hall.

Brandy walked slowly. She liked the layout of the school and actually enjoyed studying the walls and the artwork that was screwed into the brick. The middle school had been built just two years ago, and the city had spared no expense in trying to create a building that would give their children the best possible chance to learn all they could. Each student’s class schedule included time in the Commons Area, which was a big open spot right in the middle of one of the main hallways. Some schools used their commons for a cafeteria, but this school had a separate cafeteria. The idea behind the Commons was that kids needed some down-time, some time to relax and catch up on the latest gossip. It was the hope of the administration and staff that if students were given time to meet with their friends during the day, they would give teachers their full attention during class time. This is where Brandy was headed now.

She stopped at the edge of the Commons and scanned the crowd. There were little clumps of kids standing together talking quietly and other groups sitting, talking, laughing.

Tables lined one side, like the cafeteria tables but shorter. There was a juice machine, but not too many kids used it because Commons time wasn’t a full class period and no one could finish a whole can and cans weren’t allowed out of the area.

Brandy looked for a clear spot at one of the tables and sat down. She pulled a book out of the back pocket of her jeans and, for the next 20 minutes, directed all of her attention to reading.

After school, Brandy stopped at her locker, going over the day in her head, trying to figure out what she needed to take home for homework. Math no, she thought. History? Test.

English, let’s see. Worksheet and diary. Yuck! She took what she needed, slammed her locker and headed for the door. As she walked she overhead snatches of conversation. Well, no, he didn’t exactly kiss me. I mean, we had our heads so close that he could have, but then, like, my dad peeked out the curtain and my boyfriend turned around and ran down the driveway…

Saturday? I think I’m free. Do you want to catch a movie or go to the basketball game? I don’t really care ...

And then he said that if I ever came home with a report card like that again, he’d ground me for a month! Brandy shook her head at their stupidity.

She pushed the double door open and felt the breeze cool on her face. Bus or walk tonight, she thought. She contemplated as she wandered toward the bus stop already overcrowded with kids from the middle school. She let her gaze drop to the ground as she picked up her pace and walked silently past the group of kids waiting for the bus.

Once home Brandy let herself in the back door, making sure to pull the latch tightly shut, and kicked at the pile of dirty towels by the top of the stairs that blocked her entrance into the kitchen with one hand, she flicked on the light and with the other laid her book on the table and unzipped her jacket. She went to the fridge and rummaged around for something to eat. She settled on an apple, poured a glass of milk, and sat at the kitchen table. While she ate, she thought about the diary assignment and what some of the other kids might include in theirs. Her cat, a scruffy stray who had hung around for so long that Brandy had finally just taken him in, rubbed up against her leg. Brandy bent down to scoop the cat into her lap. Well, Mister Fluff, Deanna’s diary sure will be fun to read. ‘Oh, Dear Diary, last night Ray kissed me. Dear Diary, last night I kissed Ray.’ And Christine’s will babble on and on about how important her father is and what expensive clothes her parents always buy her. Brandy finished the last of her milk and stood, flipping the cat onto the floor. Oh, Mister Fluff, I’m sorry. She tried to get the cat, but he was off and running and through the basement door before she reached him. She shrugged and turned back to the kitchen. She grabbed her empty milk glass off of the table and tried to find a spot by the sink to put it. Every inch of counter space was filled with dirty dishes. Oh well, she said, and left the kitchen, putting the glass back on the table as she walked out.

She went into the living room and turned on the TV, changing the channels until she found what she wanted. Duck Tales was just finishing up. She sat for a few minutes watching, then turned the TV off and went into her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and sat at her desk. It took a moment to find a pen that still had ink in it. When she did, she took a piece of paper from the drawer and began to write:

Monday

Dear Diary,

Today in class we finished reading Diary of a Young Girl. It was about this girl who was Jewish when Hitler was killing all the Jews. She and her family hid in this old house for two years and she wrote all kinds of stuff in her diary. And then she was killed in a concentration camp and her father let her diary be published. She told all sorts of secret things to her diary and even a name of her diary. She called it Kitty. Well, writing in a diary you call by name is really stupid, and it’s for people who don’t have any friends to talk to and I have lots and lots of friends, so I’m not going to give the diary a name. I’ll just write Dear Diary everyday for two weeks until this assignment is over. So now I have to tell something about my life. Let’s see. Oh!

My mom brought home a new outfit for me last night. She was so excited to show it to me this morning and I was so excited to get it! I think I will save it for something special because it is so beautiful. Just like you, my mom said when she gave it to me. Well, school today was pretty much like any other day. I breezed through