• I sit in my room and finish flat-ironing my hair. I look in the full-length mirror on the wall. I'm dressed in my new outfit with my makeup on. I sigh.
    Story of my life…
    Anniversaries, parties, Gala's.
    I walk over to my chandelier hanging above my vanity. I touch the crystal's hanging from it. They clink together merrily. I smile.
    I walk over to my bed and slide my hand across the blanket.
    I walk over to my closet and step into it, going through my sock droor, rummaging around at the bottom. My hand touches the blue leather binding of my Diary and I carefully take it out. I open to a clean page, far toward the back.
    "I need a new Diary soon," I say thoughtfully.
    I walk over to my desk and finger all my pencils and picked a short one, sharpen it, and walk over to my lounge chair, sit down and snuggle in it's buttery leather material.
    Dear Diary,
    Tonight I'm going to a Surprise Anniversary Party for my Dad's cousin. It sounds so romantic!--
    I draw a heart next to the page.
    -- I went to the mall today and bought a new outfit, my Mom made me. She's a total Shopaholic, she's ALWAYS shopping. I guess her "Grown-up Years" Haven't completely settled. She's only 33 of course, so it's understandable. But I still hate wearing these shoes. Allison came shopping with me, and she nearly BEGGED that I buy them, so they ended up in one of my bags. I mean, I love shoes, but I like flip-flops and converse. I'm no tomboy, far from it in fact Diary, but I'm not Wear-Pink-Every-Day, I prefer light blue, like my eyes.--
    I twirl the pencil around in my hand and put my diary down on my bed then walk to my TV and flip through the channels. I go to the news. There discussing the death of Michel Jackson. I walk back to my lounge chair. I write best when the TV is on.
    -- Anyway, all I wanted to do tonight is take a hot shower and slip into a blue under shirt, shorts, flip-flops and take a walk down my street. But RING! Plans made! Not by me of course, I can shake it off though, there’s nothing Ivy Goods can't do if she puts her mind to it, or at least that’s what the mural on my wall clearly states. I better go though, my Mom will be calling me in, like, 10 seconds, so goodnight and good luck, for whatever you may need it for Diary.
    Signed,
    Ivy Rose Goods <3.

    9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1--

    "Honey, time to go! We'll be late!"

    Right on Que.

    Exiting my room, I step down the staircase.
    My high-heels click down the steps in a pattern.
    Click! Click! .... Click!
    "I'm ready Mom" My mom turns around and smiles. "My, don't you look beautiful!" "As usual...” I mumble and grab my purse from the counter top.
    I run to the garage and hop into the car, all the while, my heels are clicking on the floor. My mom gets into the car too. "Ready to be bored." I say, but we’re already gone