Sept ember 18t h, 2015
Dear Diary,
This morning, when I woke up and
got to my window I saw a tiny note
on blue paper on my windowsill. It
was the girl next door, apologizing
for what she said, that she didn?t
realize that it would hurt my
feelings so much. She said that
she?d come over to talk to me
tonight, and she?d hope to see me
there. And then she signed her
name: Sophia.
And I ?m writ ing in you aft er
get t ing back from t alking t o
her. I t went somet hing like t his:
S: Hey.
A: Hi.
S: I ?m sorry about what I said.
A: I ?m sorry I just slammed t he
window on you.
S: I t ?s okay, you were mad.
And t hen I don?t really know
what got int o me. M aybe it was
just because I finally had
someone my age who would
list en t o me. I just kind of spilled
out everyt hing,
A: M y mom?s kind of?
overprot ect ive I guess. A little bit
paranoid. She?s scared of the
tiniest thing. She never lets me go
out, and she never goes out either.
I haven?t been out in years. I get
homeschooled, you know. She
never even sleeps in her bed, and
instead sleeps in the living room
with a bat in case of break-ins. I?m
twelve, but I?m not even allowed to
use the stove or the microwave, let
alone knives, and she picks out all
the food I eat and t he clot hes I
wear, and I was finally allowed t o
wat ch t he TV shows I want ed t o
when I t urned t en. And? and t he
washing machine! I t ?s st ill baby
proofed.
S: Jesus, slow down. I don?t even
know your name. W hy are you
t elling me all of t his?
And t hen I pout ed a lit t le. How
could someone with both parents,
who goes to school and has friends,
even begin to understand how
lonely I was in the day, how I
longed to speak to someone my
age, how I spent hours dreaming
about going out and into the
forest, or maybe to the beach, or
even just downt own. And maybe
it was weird of me t o get so
personal when we just met , but I
just couldn?t help myself. Yet her
point ing it out kind of hurt me no, embarrassed me. I t was like
she point ed out how inferior I
was. So I st art ed t o get up away
from t he window, t o leave her
again. And t hen, she said:
S: Wait , don?t go. You?re so
sensit ive, what a big baby. Come
on, don?t run away again. It?s okay,
I?m not saying that it?s wrong for
you to tell me, I just found it?
personal. And whatever, you can
tell me your name now.
A: ? Alice.
And then we talked for a bit
more-well, it was mostly me
complaining about my mom, and
talking about how much I wanted
to leave, how much I wanted to be
like her and go out, how my new
favorite poem was Song of the
Open Road. And once I was done
telling her all t here is in my t iny
69
68
world, I bombarded her wit h
quest ions.
But t hen I heard foot st eps in t he
hallway in front of my door, and
before I could shut the window and
close the curtains, and pretend like
I was reading, before I could even
brace myself, the door sprung
open. And my I never knew such
a thin and frail woman could have
so much power. She screamed at
me. Demanding t o know what I
was doing, who t hat girl was.
Was she t he one t hat t ried t o put
me in danger and asked t o ride
bikes? W hat had got t en int o me
t hese days? I used t o underst and
why she was so prot ect ive, I used
t o underst and t hat t he out side
world was dangerous, so why
couldn?t I underst and it now?
A st ream of words just poured
out of her mouth, and I sat there
gaping, not even remembering to
shut the window to prevent Sophia
from overhearing. Mother was
shouting, but she seemed more
hurt and confused than angry. She
was wringing her hands, begging
to know why I was trying to leave
the safety of our house, why I was
getting so rebellious, why I had to
break her heart like this.
?Are you t rying t o leave me like
your fat her did?? M om asked at
last , her breat h heaving. ?I t ?s
dangerous out t here, and what if
you die like him? I don?t know