1. Diary # 6, The Last Entry

September 3, 2013

I pause and stare at the mess in my bedroom. Man, is it so hard to unpack. My suitcases are on the bed, clothes bursting out of them. My books, which I unearthed from their boxes a while ago, are scattered on the floor along with my school things. I start piling them on top of each other, counting them as I do. A hundred and three books in different sizes, all pertaining to English literature. I wonder if I would be able to use them here at Hector Park High School, where I would be a Freshman this year. Most of its students are Korean or half-Korean like me so I highly doubt they take English Lit that seriously.

But that was the least of my worries.

What really twists my stomach is the thought of seeing them again. The boys. My childhood friends.

I just don't know how they'll react. It's been a long time. Though I miss them, I even wish for them to secretly hope they won't recognize me, if only for my sanity. 

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look so different than I did back then. I've grown a foot taller and my skin is paler now. The red hair that I kept short as a kid is now darker and falls past my shoulders down to my waist. I also feel completely and irrevocably different inside, and more than my appearance, I think it would be the main reason why I would be a stranger to them now.  

Sighing, I stop glaring at myself and finish stacking my books carefully on the floor, for now, as I'm still waiting on the shelves I ordered online to be delivered. My diaries go into the locked ornate box beside me. I'm currently on my fifth journal, which is also close to being used up, thanks to my incessant writing. Finally, I turn to my clothes, folding them and putting them inside the built-in cabinet facing my bed. Satisfied with my progress in tidying up, my eyes catch the time on my wristwatch. It's almost seven pm. Time to stop worrying and get dinner. 

I make my way to the restaurant nearest my dorm and quickly order as I get to the table. As usual, I pore over my journal and start penning my latest entry, determined to recount every bit of my boring life, hoping the act itself can make it more interesting. I think of my therapist, who is a firm advocate of word vomiting on pages of paper. She will be so proud of me. 

I have written a full three pages of text before the waitress goes back to me. "Here's your order, Ma'am." 

I smile politely at her, nodding my head. 

She returns the smile, puts down the steak I ordered on the table, and goes back to work.  I slowly start eating, forcing the food down my throat despite it making me want to puke. I guess I still don't have my appetite. 

"Quit it, Brad." an annoyed voice says not far beside me.

I tense, the familiarity of it sending a chill down my spine. I turn and stare, realizing how much I missed that voice. 

Sebastian.

The sight of him almost makes me want to stand up, call out his name, and hug him. But I hold back, citing the changes in him instead. He's taller now, and although I can only see one side of his face, I can tell how defined his features have become, his cheeks no longer as chubby as I remember them. I always knew he was going to be handsome, just like I did our other friends. Their families...our families were known to have good genes, all children of actors and businessmen whose looks became the foundation of their success. The boys clearly inherited them. The people around me told me I got my mother's beauty, too, but I don't really see it. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the odd one out. 

Taking my eyes off Sebastian, who hadn't noticed my ogling (thank God), I study the person in front of him. 

Brandon, or Brad, as we call him.

I want to run to him, too, and tuck him under my arm. But of course, he is now much taller than me, and I don't think that would be appropriate now that we're grown. Brad was the clown of the group, the one who always told the most annoying yet adorable jokes, and judging by the way he grins at Seb's scolding, I can immediately tell that hadn't changed. I also notice his heavily lined eyes, which made me cringe. What in the hell made him think that was a good idea? Has he gone completely mad since I left? 

"Then quit thinking about  her." Brad is saying. They still haven't noticed me. 

"I am not." Seb sounds defensive. I almost smile, remembering the first time we all started having love lives. It became the bulk of our conversations really quickly, and I'm guessing not much has changed since then. 

"Sure you are, and it is not cool, Seb. This is the stage where you look for another girl. Jesus, it's been three weeks already." Brad replies, "Have a bit of fun." 

"A normal person with a heart doesn't move on that quickly, Brandon. Sometimes, it even takes a year. We were together for three years. How do you expect me to react?"  Seb says, scrunching his forehead. 

Brad thinks about this for a minute. "Well, yeah, man. But you need to thrive, bro, or you'll drown. I'm just concerned about you, you know. If you keep thinking about her, you'll miss out on a lot of things. Just look at that girl on the table beside us."

I choke on my drink rather ungracefully at what Brad said. Damn it. So they noticed me. Quickly, I hide behind my hair, grateful for its volume. I feel their eyes on me and my cheeks heat. I try to keep my grip on my fork and continue to eat, thanking the gods that they hadn't recognized me. I don't think I'm ready for that yet, and the boys would have a heart attack once they take a good look at me. I absolutely can't let them see right now, the way I am. 

Especially not him. David. Thank God Dave isn't here with them. I don't know if I could keep the tiniest bit of calm if he's here with them right now.

It seems like a million years, but I finally feel their eyes leave me. I let out the breath that I've been holding as I hear Brad yelp, presumably from Seb whacking him in the head for making a stranger uncomfortable. After that, they do not mention me anymore in their conversation, and I honestly do not know if I should feel relieved or disappointed. Nevertheless, I keep my eyes down. 

Moments later, I hear Brad excuse himself from the table, and with my heart in my throat, I dare to surreptitiously glance in their direction again. 

What the hell? 

Seb's eyes.  When did he start looking at me again? Why haven't I noticed it?

His head is inclined and his eyebrows are met in the middle as if he's trying to piece together a puzzle in front of him. My panic goes up a notch as we stare at each other, unmoving. Before he recognizes me, I gather my senses and hastily put down my spoon and fork, clattering them on the plate ungracefully. Leaving some cash on the table, I scramble out of the restaurant as if it has just been set on fire. And the entire time, I sense Seb's eyes on me.

Examining me. Testing me. As if I were a witness on a stand, lying through my teeth. 

Typical Seb. 

I walk all the way back to my dorm, calming the pounding in my heart as I remember those eyes. I was about to open my door when I notice my empty hands.

I stop, almost falling into the pavement.

Shit.

My diary.

I left my diary there.