Just a speculative drabble about how the season might end, based on what we've seen so far. Enjoy!
It had started out with good intentions—at least, as 'good' as they could have been, given the circumstances. The minute you encountered Amy after you'd leaked her diary to the school, when she revealed to you that she'd been just about to apologize; after you'd left Principal Penelope's office, and you needed to do something not to have to think about what just happened; the minute you saw that moron Bradley advertising loudly that he was selling pages to the highest bidder, you'd started frantically snatching pages out of people's hands. It only lasted for ten minutes before you got a better idea, and asked Vashti for an interview, but those pages were yours. When you encountered them in your bag later, at home, you considered burning them. After your (heartbreaking) conversation with Amy, you felt that you might as well start burning anything related to the blonde, since the two of you could never be friends again. At the same time, you felt yourself clinging desperately to any evidence of Amy in your life, even though you knew it was just a consolation prize.
You didn't throw the pages out. You stuffed them in your closet somewhere, knowing not what you wanted to do with them. You'd probably burn them later anyway. But not yet. Anything in Amy's handwriting felt too precious now, and you couldn't part with the pages.
You didn't actually read them until a long time. After the episode with your dad's heart attack, after your reunion, you almost forgot that you had the pages. You were entirely wrapped up in your best friend, your parents' "little secret," and then Liam… You and Amy never talked about your fight anymore, and that was fine by you. You forgot about your Hump Day video (which Amy had taken down soon after), and the leaked journal were soon a thing of distant memory.
It was only when Sabrina entered your life again, and your fear of losing Amy started creeping up on you again, that you remembered the pages. You didn't mean to read them. But the day you witnessed them kissing on the street, right after you'd tried to serenade her (as it turned out) empty bedroom, you returned home with your emotions all over the place, and you needed something to distract you. So you opened your closet and pulled out the pages.
There weren't many of them, and mostly they were disjointed fragments. You read some pieces about her summer—interestingly, because you hadn't talked much about that either—some things about her dad, some ramblings about Lauren and Shane. It made you smile a little because you could just hear Amy's voice in your head while you read the pages, but on the whole they didn't tell you anything (much) you didn't know yet. Until you found those pages.
A sex dream. About you and her… doing things. About you, doing things to her, and she, doing things to you. You realized three sentences into the diary entry where this was headed, and you knew it would be a cataclysmically bad idea to continue reading, but you couldn't help yourself. And even for someone who hadn't known Amy as much as you did, the entry would surely have made them feel… things, because your BFF didn't leave much to the imagination. She described every detail of her dream, and boy, you never knew your best friend had such a detailed subconscious. Reading the entry left you shivery, confused, and—if possible—in an even bigger turmoil than before you started reading the pages.
It did take your mind off your current (nightmarish) reality, though. You forgot all about Sabrina while reading it, only for her to return to your mind with double intensity, because you now knew about Amy's sexual—err—prowess, and you went nearly crazy thinking that she might one day (soon) be doing those very things to Sabrina.
You couldn't handle it. The very idea drove you out of your mind. For the next few days, you tried avoiding your best friend—unsuccessfully—trying to figure out what the hell your feelings were. And though you tried to put the diary entry out of your mind, it was as if you'd finally seen the clue to a riddle or a picture: you couldn't unsee it. And your mind, hormone-driven and perverted as it was, kept dragging you back into that dream, sometimes even adding embellishments of your own. And you didn't just see the whole thing play out in your head; because you knew the feel of Amy—pressed against you in a tight hug, drawn into you in a soft but passionate kiss—you could feel it too. You saw the colors, you inhaled the (her) scents, you heard the (her) sounds, and it was all too overwhelming.
After a while, you considered burning the pages regardless, because you certainly knew that passage by heart now. And yet you didn't. In spite of yourself, you kept returning to it, reading it hungrily, voraciously—clinging to it, almost, as you saw Amy and Sabrina getting closer and closer—as a piece of evidence that Amy had once felt and imagined all these things about you. That it had been real. After a while, you just stuffed it under your pillow, reaching out for it at random moments. It was pathetic and ridiculous, but during the moments when your Sabrina-induced panics—those were becoming more common lately—left you achy and unstable, just the feeling of your fingers over the paper calmed you down.
You shouldn't have been surprised when Amy found you out. You hadn't been very careful hiding it, after all. But Amy hadn't been sleeping over since she and Sabrina had started dating, and you hadn't thought of the risks—not even when you exposed the bitch for the fake that she was, and you had Amy to yourself again. It was just there, under your pillow; you didn't even think about it anymore.
But then, on New Year's Eve, when your parents' had offered up their back garden for a bonfire, and Amy was burning her bad memories from the past year, you really should've realized that she might get into your room. Of course, you hadn't counted on her sneaking in there when you weren't there—apparently she'd lost something from the box she'd wanted to (symbolically) burn, and thought she might've left it in your room. But even so, there was no reason for you to almost get a heart attack when you went to your room looking for her, wondering what was taking so long, and you found her on your bed, clutching that paper with a deeply accusatory look on her face. But then, you knew there was no way you were going to talk your way out of this one, so your subsequent incoherence wasn't entirely unexpected.
'I-I, uhm, I'm so sorry, Amy, I just, I—'
'You just happened to keep the one page of my journal where I wrote out in full one of my many smutty dreams about you?' Her face was hard and unreadable.
You felt your face heat up, various words—all inadequate—crowding your throat. You sighed and cast your eyes to the ceiling.
'Karma.' She forced your eyes back down, and cocked an eyebrow. 'Why the hell'— she started, holding out the crumpled page—'did you keep this?' You could see her getting angry. 'Was it to satisfy your ego, Karma? Did you think it was okay to just butt into my private thoughts and dreams to find proof that I was in love with you? Huh?!'
You'd started trembling. 'Amy, I swear I can…' Your shoulders slumped. 'Well, actually… I… can't—explain.' You felt tears gathering behind your eyes, and you looked away. 'Because I can't even explain to myself why I—why I kept that.' You sniffed. 'I just, I… I kept going back to why I kissed you in the pool that night, or, why my subconscious would push me to do that, and I guess I… I guess part of me wanted to see what your unconscious had… Told you.'
You were surprised at your own words. The explanation hadn't occurred to you until just now, and yet, it fit. Yes, it was about Sabrina too, and about your never-ending insecurities, and your need to feel loved. But you had been going back in your mind to that kiss in the pool, and you'd started questioning your own motives for kissing Amy. And maybe… You sighed and shook your head.
'I'm just… confused, Amy.' You shrugged, miserable. 'I can't offer you any other explanation. And I realize I… kept that—those pages, because I'm just being my stupid insecure self, and it's totally unfair to you'—you heaved a sigh—'again, not fair to you, and I feel terrible, again, but I…' Your tears were trickling down your cheeks now. Your vision was blurry when you directed your gaze back towards your best friend. 'You must hate me now.'
Amy cast her eyes to the ceiling, a frustrated sigh bursting from her lips. She took a breath, and got up. 'I just… I can't handle this right now, okay, Karma? If you have feelings for me, I need you to say it, and not just hide behind any more bullshit excuses.' She looked at you, really looked at you, and you felt yourself shaking. 'But if you don't explicitly come out and say it, I can't—' She sighed and shook her head. Getting up, she crumpled up the paper in her fist. 'I'll throw this in the fire,' she said numbly. She walked past you with another word.