Diary of a Teenage Girl Page #2

• Fiction

								

“Do you think that we could make a club?”
“Yeah. ‘Course we can.” I smile at her, trying my hardest not to cry from my emotions.
“Hmm…I don’t know yet.”
“You don’t have to know yet, we can decide later on.” I stood up, and lent her a hand. “I think it’s time we go.” I added onto my sentence, which she nodded in reply.
“Yeah. Definitely.” She looks at the stream, then back at me. “Can we come back tomorrow?” I nodded and grabbed her hand, guiding her through the thick brushes and trying to make sure she doesn’t trip over tree roots.

I never fully thought that Misha would ever say no. I knew that she would be a doormat to society and her parents, and I couldn’t stop it. I shouldn’t let it fill my mind too much if it’s not my problem. If I can't control it then I should just leave it be. My parents are extra careful about me now, after the towers. I don’t think I ever felt fear in my life until that moment, when I had watched the towers collapse on the news, I watched people jump, in hopes it saved them from the fire, in hopes it saved them from the crumble, and that it saved them from immediate death. I felt shaken, but even then I couldn’t do anything about it. For the rest of the day all of America was quiet. School got canceled, but I never went that day anyways. A lot of people didn't return for a couple of days, mourning the loss of their family members in the quiet of their home. The 16th was my first day back at the creek, I had to practically convince my parents, I don't understand why I couldn't go in the first place, I didn't live in NYC. That creek was me Misha's safe place. Sometimes we’d just sit on a big rock or a log, we wouldn’t talk, we’d just sit there. We were so interlinked, just like the twins in my neighborhood, that we could practically hear each other’s thoughts. Sometimes, when I lay in my bed at night, and the warmth engulfs me into its embrace, and and I am left alone, I wonder if she can feel my thoughts from across the creek…I would be ashamed of myself if she could feel what I felt when I was sad. She doesn’t deserve to feel that way this young.
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