Chapter 2
January 7th
Dear Diary,
Whether I like it or not it's Tuesday. I hate Tuesdays. The more popular girls than myself always end up raiding April and me while we eat our lunch. They have the opportunity to do this because cheerleading is NOT on, on Tuesday lunchtime. Which sucks for us.
I've been a best friend with April since I was 5 years old. We've stayed in the same schools, all the same classes and have even shared a bed on many occasions. We are forever in trouble together for singing to loud or dancing and making a racket over the people living under my apartment, so we have taken to dancing at her place, which is on the ground floor, and therefore there is no one below us to be grumpy. Her parents are also so much nicer than mine. Well they're not actually her parents. They're foster parents, but she likes them so it's all right, well its not too bad.
Her parents died when she was 9. I remember it like it was yesterday. She didn't come into school for a week, and then she wouldn't talk to me for just short of a month. That's the only time we've ever fallen out. But I suppose we didn't fall out, she was just mourning. I wish she didn't ignore me but I realise she needed space. It was a car accident. They were pushed off the road and went into a building just off one of the noisy boulevards down near Broadway.
That's when I got to see Broadway. My parents took me down for the funeral. 2 days after the funeral my parents decided to try and cheer April up a little by taking us to see a Broadway show. I can't remember what it was, I was too little and I was more worried about April. But I remember loving it. I went home crying to be on the stage. Obviously, I got no sympathy from my parents. They've always liked April better. But then again, who wouldn't? April's pretty, funny, clever, talented and everything else you would want a daughter to me. I'm wrong. Wrong to them anyway. Actually, April is perfect at everything.
I found out, as I got older that April was actually very effected by her parents death. She used to cry at night and I never understood why for a long time, not until I was 12 and she explained to me what it felt like. Then I helped her and her foster parents helped her and now she's okay. But I wish I could take my own advice. Um okay that's enough for tonight…
Maureen
