December 20th, 1949
Dear Diary,
That is it. I am going.
I was told by my parents today that I will be sent to that dreaded island in the new year, when the ice that covers the sea melts. They try to calm me with things like, "It will be a fun place" or "It is better than here" or "You will have fun there", but their attempts fail.
I am scared of such a place. It is not fair. Why should I have to go? Their are children in this town who are far more peculiar than me. They should be the ones to go.
I heard the neighbors whispering about me. They said, "A fitting place for a peculiar child". They angered me, so I climbed the tree in the backyard and sat there till noon.
The day is getting late so I suppose I shall go tell Christopher-who is my only friend-the bad news so I can be home before sundown.
Mother and Father are already preparing my departure.
Your dearest Lucy
