song rec: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift feat. Ed Sheeran

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Diary—Ehem, Journal—of a High School Outcast

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Entry #1:

Of First Friends

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Saturday, September 7th.

Dear Diary—ehem, Journal,

So… hi?

Um.

Well. Let's just start with this:

My name is Lucy Heartfilia. I'm fourteen, soon-to-be fifteen in a few weeks. The day after tomorrow I will officially be in the hell-hole known as "high school," and I'm already dreading it.

Middle school had been hard enough; it doesn't help when Ms. Supetto keeps rambling on about how awful her high school days were and that she hopes it'll be better for me.

Ms. Supetto is my maid—ah, I mean, best friend. I know, sad, right? A fourteen-year-old whose best friend is a forty-three-year-old... But, if I were speaking truthfully, and I am, I would tell you that I wouldn't trade our friendship for the world. Ms. Supetto has been there for me for as long as I can remember. When my mom died, she was there. Every forgotten birthday, she was there. Every lonely Christmas, she was there.

And I'm so grateful.

Yeah.

Anyway… um.

I guess since I have nothing better to do other than read manga—cough, I mean watch "educational videos for your future as the successor of Heartfilia Railroads," as my father put it, I'll tell you (who am I talking to?) about how I received this diary—ehem, journal, and about how I made my first… friend. (At least one that's actually my age.) It's probably a boring story, but, like I said, I having nothing better to do.

So, it went a little something like this…

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I skipped down a rather wide grocery aisle, unable to contain my excitement. It's a very rare occurrence that I get to go outside of the mansion—uh, house—with the exception of school, and an even rarer occurrence that I get to go to a grocery store. I can't even remember the last time I had been to one; perhaps a couple of weeks before my mom died. So I was overwhelmed with the sight of all of the seemingly normal people, the new smells, and the fact that the produce section took up nearly half of the store.

My own personal chef—cough, I mean the person who cooks my food (well, I guess that doesn't sound any less snooty)—Eido stood behind me, pushing along the shopping cart. He had an amused glint in his eyes as he watched me, and I knew I must have looked like an idiot staring at the long wall of cartons of eggs in pure amazement. But could he blame me? I was new at this!

"Miss Lucy," Eido said, interrupting my thoughts. "You can take a look around if you'd like. Just don't get lost, okay?"

I squealed and thanked him, not giving him the chance to rethink his offer as I dashed around the corner.

It's then that I slam into something that reminded me of a brick wall.

I fell on my butt, groaning. I facepalmed at my stupidity, only to realize my glasses had fallen off. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I'm as blind as a mole rat without my glasses.

"Ouch," an unknown, masculine voice mumbled. I heard shuffling before a blurry object that looked to be a hand was shoved in my face. "Sorry 'bout that! I wasn't lookin' where I was goin'... again," the voice added sheepishly.

I sat there, dumbfounded. "U-um… I'm s-sorry," I said, silently cursing myself for the stutter.

The voice chuckled, a deep, yet adorable sound. My heart rate sped up just at the kindness of it, and I could feel my already hot cheeks warm further. "Well," he said, "are ya just gonna sit there?" His voice was amused, yet I didn't detect a hint of rudeness or impatience. It was kind… thoughtful, almost.

"S-sorry," I repeated, embarrassed. "But I… uhm. I c-can't see anything without my g-glasses…"

"Oh," the voice said, his surprise evident. "Just a sec, I'll look 'round for 'em."

I heard some more shuffling. I continued to sit there, blinking dumbly. I had to suppress the anxiety in my chest that told me to get up and blindly run away.

It's no secret that that I'm rather shy. I'd say that that's an understatement, really. Try socially awkward. Or just plain antisocial.

A strong hand grasped mine, and my insides fluttered from the contact. I'm not used to people touching me.

He pulled me up until I was standing, and another hand placed something inside mine. He let go, and while I weirdly enough felt a loss, I was also grateful for that he didn't linger any longer.

I hurriedly put my glasses on and blinked so that my eyes could readjust. I looked up so I could thank and apologize to the man properly, but instead I felt the breath leave my lungs, my jaw slacken, my eyes widen, and my cheeks flare.

He was hot. Like fiery, smoking, burning building hot.

His hair was a soft shade of pink that really suited him, and was spiked up into a sexy—um, I mean cute style. His jawline was angular and his lips looked soft—if I continue down this train of thought I might pass out from heatstroke—and were plump and rosy. Through his white t-shirt I could see drool-worthy abs. There was a white, scale-like scarf wrapped securely around his neck. He was on the shorter side, which made me suspect him to be only one or two years older than myself.

How could someone as young as us be so... attractive? Puberty did him well.

But what really got me were his eyes. They were wide, his eyelashes long, and a gorgeous onyx color. They almost appeared to be lit aflame, burning with curiosity.

I realized that he was examining me under the same scrutiny and I silently begged that I looked okay and didn't have an eye booger or something. Or an actual booger.

Suddenly a wide, toothy, adorable grin spread across his face, almost causing me to stumble. "Sorry," he said again, his bright smile never leaving. "It was nice bumpin' into ya…?" he trailed off, and after a few seconds of staring dazedly at him, I finally blurted,

"L-Lucy!"

His fire-like eyes brightened, causing the butterflies in my stomach to rage. "Right, L-Lucy," he teased. I wanted to die from embarrassment. "I'm Natsu." He extended his hand in greeting and, albeit hesitantly, I grasped it and shook once.

"L-Lucy," I repeated, physically resisting the urge to punch myself by clenching my fist behind my back.

He chuckled. "Right. So, L-Lucy, I hope ya don't mind me askin', but… Will you be attending Fairy Academy?"

My eyes widened. My mind whirred with questions. Why was he asking me something like that? Is that a normal question to ask someone you just met? I wouldn't know.

Opting for just being honest, I said, "Yes."

He was happy by my answer, his grin widening if that were possible. "That's awesome! Now I'll have 'nother friend there!"

I caught my jaw before it dropped. Friend? Was it really that easy? We just met, and yet… he thought of me as his friend? I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

He looked at me strangely. "You okay, Lucy?"

"U-um… yeah. I'm f-fine. Sorry, it's just… I've never really had a f-... friend before," I said before I could stop myself. Great, now I was telling random strangers about my loser life.

His fire-eyes dimmed as if hearing this truly saddened him. It wasn't pity or disgust, like I expected to see. It was almost like he really cared... but I shook that thought off. We only just met—I should in no way expect him to care.

Before I could ask him what was wrong, as he was being fairly quiet, he smiled (though if I weren't paying close attention, I probably wouldn't have noticed that it was forced) and shocked me by saying, "Well… I'll be your friend."

A hitched gasp sort of noise came from my throat, and I felt my eyes tear up. I didn't understand. Why was he being so nice? He didn't even know me. Was I wrong and he actually did pity me? Did he feel sorry for me? Was that it? Was he just being nice to the dork with no friends?

I couldn't tell, and that frustrated me. I'm so naïve and… out-of-practice with the outside world that I can't even tell when someone is being genuinely nice?

Through my blurred vision—this time because of hot tears, not blindness—I could see the concerned frown on his face. He was about to say something when a voice that I recognized as Eido's cut in, "I'm very sorry to interrupt, Miss Lucy, but we must be going now. Dinner is to be prepared shortly."

I nodded, silently thanking him for interrupting when he did. I didn't have a response to what Natsu was… offering? I just didn't know what to say. I was happy yet confused and angry all at once.

So I opted for a low "Goodbye," before taking off after Eido. I didn't wait for him while he paid for the items, instead rushing out to the black Town Car and climbing into the back seat, slamming the door behind me.

And, like the loser I am, I cried.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

When I got home twenty minutes later I rushed up the three flights of stairs to my bedroom, softly closing the door so as to not alert any of the maids.

I knew I was being childish. I knew I was being melodramatic, rash, stupid and… stupid.

I just didn't understand. Why was this happening to me? Why did he want to be my friend? Was he just kidding? Was this some sort of practical joke? Was I simply overreacting?

But the main question that plagued my mind was one that I would probably never have the answer to:

Was this normal?

Just then a series of soft knocks came from the door. Knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. Knock.

Ms. Supetto.

It was something that we initiated after my mom died. At the time I didn't want to see anybody or do anything. I didn't eat, sleep, or even breathe normally for over a week.

Ms. Supetto was the only person I would allow in my room. It was her that suggested we come up with a secret knock so I would always know who was at my door. Even now, seven years later, we still use it.

"Come in," I muttered. I felt like I was going to cry again, but I held back. Ms. Supetto had enough to deal with already.

The door opened cautiously and Ms. Supetto ducked her head in, a concerned frown pulling at her lips.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked carefully as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "I saw you come in. You looked as if you had been crying." My cheeks heated up with embarrassment and I averted my gaze to the grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the room. It was once my mother's. She had called it "Horologium," like the constellation. "Miss Lucy." Ms. Supetto's voice was stern and commanded my attention.

I slowly turned towards her, asking innocently, "Yes?" But I knew full well that there was no way I was going to get out of this.

"What happened while you were out?" she asked as she sat on the edge of the King-sized canopy bed. She smoothed out and straightened the fluffy pink sheets, almost absentmindedly. "Did someone say something? Did you run into one of those bullies from Magnolia Girls' Leadership Academy?"

Magnolia Girls' Leadership Academy is the school I attended last year and the year before. I was picked on, made fun of, and even abused by the other girls there. To this day I still don't know why, but my best guess is that I'm not exactly what comes to mind when the words "graceful" or "proper" or especially "leader" are brought up. I'm neither a leader nor a follower, and they didn't like that.

"No," I said, shrugging. "I just saw something that reminded me of Mom, that's all." I hoped she'd buy my lie, but I couldn't be sure. Ms. Supetto has known me for years and while I got away with a few bluffs here and there, she usually caught on.

But Ms. Supetto nodded, seeming to understand. "If you insist," she said. A few moments of silence passed before she cleared her throat and looked up at me, a serious glint in her eyes. "Miss Lucy… speaking of your mother…"

"Yeah?" I asked hesitantly.

Ms. Supetto sighed, but a smile curled at her lips and the wrinkles around her eyes became more prominent. "There's something that she wanted me to give you. It was the day before she passed." She paused and stood up. She walked over to the bedroom door and opened it, only to close it once again and stalk back over to the bed.

Ms. Supetto, although reluctant, pulled something from behind her back and set it down on the bed directly in front of me.

I thought at first that it was a book. My mother had been quite the fan of literature; over half of the downstairs library was full of her favorite books. I've read them all over and over again. It made me feel connected to her in a way.

The light blue, leather cover was blank aside from the occasional indentation of a heart or a butterfly. It was rather thick, maybe around five-hundred to six-hundred pages long. I opened it up to a random page in the middle.

It was blank.

And so I picked up the book, gulping as I skimmed through the pages.

Yep, I thought to myself, resisting the urge to puke.

It was a diary.

Ms. Supetto's voice cut through the silence. "I know that you're not exactly a fan of talking about your feelings… but your mother wanted you to have this," she said. "Flip to the last two pages. She left you a message."

My throat went dry. She left me a… a message?

Tentatively, I sorted through the pages until I was at the last few. And there, in my mother's familiar curly handwriting, was indeed a message. My eyes filled with tears just at the sight of it. It looked a bit shaky, like it was hard for her to write it at the time. Not emotionally, but physically.

She had been slowly dying while she wrote this.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself.

Here goes.

My dear Lucy,

If you are reading this now, it could only mean one thing: that you are all grown up and about to start your first year of high school. I am so sorry that I am not there to see it.

The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm so proud of you. It must have been difficult without me around, and for that I am so sorry. I didn't want to leave you. I don't want to leave you. But all I can do now is hope that you are alright and doing well.

I bet you're wondering why I'm giving you a diary. While at the moment I don't know who you'll be or how you'll think, I suspect that you're shocked or even annoyed. Even now at the age of seven you're reluctant to talk about how you feel...

But I am giving this to you for a simple reason.

When I was your age and just starting high school, it was tough. While I was popular and "liked" amongst most of the student body, a lot of emotional things happened to me along the way.

The people whom I thought were my best friends betrayed me, and the man I was in love with at the time turned out to be unfaithful. (Though I guess that was for the best because I met your father and we had you, our precious gift from the heavens.) There's a lot more, but I won't bore you with the details.

So while I was going through all of this, I let my emotions bottle up inside of me. I didn't have anyone to share my feelings with—and frankly I didn't want to bother others with my problems. But one day my mother (Grandma Lillian—do you remember her?) sat me down and told me all about the problems she faced back in the day. She told me how sad and angry and lonely she felt. How she pushed people away because she couldn't deal with her own emotional trauma. And then she gave me a diary. She told me how much it helped her after her mother gave one to her as well.

And it really does help, Lucy. Venting your feelings instead of leaving them inside only to build up and burst out at the most inappropriate moment. (Mine happened in the middle of class and I ended up suspended for a week because I yelled at the teacher. Just thinking of it now makes me laugh.) So I'd like for you to give it a try. It'll probably be hard at first and a bit strange, but you'll get used to it.

In fact you might even find yourself immediately going to your diary after something happens... :)

I'm sorry that I can't be there for you anymore. But just know that I'm watching over you, wherever I may be.

I love you so much, my dear Lucy. Stay strong for me.

-Mama

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And so here I am now, writing in this diary—ehem, journal. I'm not sure what to think, but I trust my mother's judgment. If she said that this will be good for me, then I believe her.

Sigh. My hand hurts from writing.

Well, I guess this is goodnight, dear diary—ehem, journal.

I probably won't write in you until school starts…

I am so not looking forward to it.

Feeling tired,

Lucy

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