FALL/WINTER Magazine


I was a bit sneaky when I was in grade school. Especially when it came to my older sister. Almost every Saturday morning, after I was absolutely sure she had left for soccer practice, I’d run up to the attic and remove her diary from its hiding place. (I knew under which loose floorboards to look because one night when I couldn’t sleep, I followed her up there without her noticing.) Then I’d run off to the basement bathroom to read it without running the risk of getting caught.
It was a small book with a black, homemade fur cover.
It even had a lock on it.
(I never found the key, but it was easy to pick with a hairpin.)
Inside, her writing was all over the place.
I did figure out a couple of things though.
She’d write in big red letters when she was mad at someone, in small purple ones when she spilled the beans about a boy, and in blue when it was about anything else. (She always wrote about me in blue. Lucky me, I guess.)
Anyway, one Saturday that summer I landed on the juiciest page of all time — it was so juicy, in fact, that by the next Saturday it had been ripped it out. It was written in purple, in the smallest possible letters.
(I had to squint really hard to make out the words.)
What did that top-secret page describe that was so funny I had to bite my lip to keep from howling at the top of my lungs? The meeting of her Ms. Muffy and some boy named Kyle’s Mr. Johnson. That’s the real secret. And she never found out that I knew. (But I did have a hard time looking Kyle in the eye
after that….)


