The Secret Diary of Ashley Juergens (3 page)

On top of Amy’s mood swings, I also have to deal with my parents—and not just about my clothes. I walked into the kitchen the other night and Mom and Dad were having a discussion about money. I’ve never heard them talk about money before. If this is the start of some kind of snowball effect, I’d hate to see the size of it by the time it rolls out the front door. Rod’s going to get flattened in the middle of one of his monologues.

I think what started their fight was my mom worrying about our college funds. I told her I don’t mind skipping high school, let alone college. Amy’s been there a week and she’s already unhappy. I figure you might as well be unhappy with all the comforts of home. I brought this up to my mom but she reminded me homeschooling involves her being around, too. Forget about that. As much as my dad can bug me sometimes, we do share a similar sense of humor. The only thing my mom and I agree on is that we don’t understand each other. At all.

When I was little I was convinced I was adopted. I took some hair samples from my mom’s hairbrush and mailed them to a genetic testing lab. They mailed the results back a few months later. The results said there was no doubt Anne Juergens was my mother. I had them redo the test two times until the head of the lab sent me a handwritten note assuring me the results were one hundred percent conclusive and asking me to please stop sending him my mother’s hair. I’ve never trusted science since.

My mom asked me what’s wrong with Amy. This made me nervous. If Mom is noticing that Amy’s acting weird then this isn’t just my imagination. I told her I didn’t know. And for once, I really don’t. Maybe it’s this Ben guy. But he’s so harmless. And besides dating Ben, nothing else has happened to Amy recently. Amy’s life is so boring. The only thing she did all summer was go to band camp. I mean, how exciting can band camp be? Maybe if you decide you want to switch instruments or something?

Amy did just start high school, but I thought middle school was the new high school and high school the new college. And college is just an extended vacation before actual life responsibilities. So really, she should be in the best mood ever, like she was yesterday.

Maybe I should ask Madison and Lauren. What am I saying? Even if they knew something they wouldn’t tell me because we don’t like each other, and if they didn’t know anything they would start gossiping about what could be wrong with Amy. I could talk to Amy but she already yelled at me about her privacy. If she really wanted privacy she shouldn’t make eavesdropping so easy.

8:22 P.M.

I overheard Amy talking to Ben tonight. I think I know what’s going on now because I overheard her tell him she loved him, too. Her hormones must be going crazy. Love already? No way. Tomorrow she’ll be sobbing and ignoring him at school. Unless it really is love, but . . .

Isn’t love supposed to make you happy? Because Amy’s definitely not happy. Neither are my parents. And I know I’m loved, but I wouldn’t exactly call myself happy either. I smell a conspiracy brewing here.

Maybe that’s why my dad’s so afraid Amy and I will have sex. Because most teenagers have already figured out that love equals unhappiness, so why not just skip ahead to the fun stuff? Makes sense to me. I hope my dad doesn’t find this journal anytime soon. I don’t think he’d like the fact that I’m figuring out the truth on my own. The other night Mom almost sat on my journal when she came in to say good night. She sat on my bed to talk and I could see the corner poke out from the duvet. I think I’ll start hiding it in my air-conditioning vent. And then move it around to a new spot every couple of weeks just in case.

7:05 A.M.

Okay, Amy’s mood is starting to rub off on me. She cut in front of me when it was my turn to use the bathroom. She’s worse than Dad. I tried to hold her off but she brought up her privacy again and then shut the door in my face. Well, I need privacy, too. And I actually had some time-allotted privacy already set aside so I could get ready for school that she intruded on. I tried to use one of the other two bathrooms but Mom and Dad had already staked their claims. So I went back and sat outside the other bathroom and waited for Amy to come out.

I actually felt kind of bad for Amy because it sounded like she was throwing up. Could it be something she ate? Dinner was twelve hours ago. I think food poisoning hits faster than that. Maybe the flu is going around. I wish Lauren and Madison would catch it. They call all the time now and when they visit they go straight into Amy’s room and shut the door. I hate feeling unwelcome in my own house. I enjoy making others feel unwelcome.

When Amy finally came out of the bathroom I asked her if she was feeling sick and she just snapped at me. What’s the big deal about feeling under the weather? She’s not going to get yelled at for catching a cold or grounded for having the flu. What is going on around here? What is she hiding? Why is this all I can think about lately? Should I still respect Amy’s privacy when it intrudes on other people’s lives, mainly mine?

The answer is obviously “no,” but I have to fill up space in this thing somehow because Principal Miller said I have to write a certain number of pages a week.

So on that note . . . I haven’t explained yet why I wasn’t sent to camp this past summer. Now is as good a time as any. The reason is I’ve been banned from almost all of them:

Wilderness Appreciation Camp:
I appreciate the wilderness enough to know I don’t want to camp out there for weeks at a time. Last summer, I cabbed it to the local hotel after everyone was settled in their tents. My counselors warned me that if I did it one more time I would be sent home. They must not have realized I
DID
want to be sent home. So I did it one more time.

Animal Lovers Camp:
This should have been called “Bug Lovers Camp.” We rarely saw any actual animals and when we did they were either bugs or mosquitoes. I was constantly reminding them there actually is a place for animal lovers that is much more fun. It’s called the zoo.

Science Camp:
It’s summer. And I’m at school during the summer because . . . ? And I already mentioned I don’t trust science. I did try to genetically test my mom’s hair on the first day but they lacked the proper equipment and the results were inconclusive. Some science camp.

Theater Camp:
They claimed I was too dramatic. The final straw occurred when we performed
Hamlet
. I was cast as Ophelia and kept insisting she would have killed herself way earlier in the play. I was sent home and the part was recast. I don’t even want to think how much the final show suffered because of my absence.

Band Camp:
I don’t play an instrument and they had already heard about me from the other camps. Who knew these people actually got together during the off-season? Plus, I’ve already shared my unfortunate history with the recorder.

And, believe it or not . . .

Girl Scouts:
While all the other girls actually earned their badges, I found the store that sold them to all of the troop leaders and bought mine direct. At least I earned the money I bought the badges with by doing chores around the house. Doing chores doesn’t have a badge, so if anything I’m actually owed one. My dad was very proud of me. Not only because I found a way to accumulate badges without actually earning them, but also because I got the badges wholesale. I should just be glad they didn’t find out about all the stuff I pulled when I was a Brownie.

So that’s why I spent my summer vacation at home watching
TV
. I loved it and can’t wait to return next summer!

3:30 P.M.

Amy’s mood is now spreading to everyone in the family. Maybe it’s a virus that puts you in a foul mood before shutting down your organs. Whatever it is, it’s serious and highly contagious. My dad can’t even stand to be in the house anymore. He makes any excuse to leave. He’s working late at the furniture store or he’s meeting an old friend for a drink or he’s going for a walk. In truth, I don’t think he’s doing any of those things. I definitely know he’s not at the furniture store because I called over there and all I got was his voice mail. Whatever he is doing, it isn’t good. And I think Mom is starting to notice.

There’s this tension between my parents that’s thickened ever since they had that discussion about money. It’s gotten to the point where every conversation between them is about money, even when they’re talking about something else: “Beautiful day, isn’t it, Anne?” “It would be if you would tell me where you’re hiding all of our money, George.” “Do you need me to pick up the girls after school, Anne?” “You can do that right after you tell me where our money went, George.” “Good night, Anne.” “Don’t forget to turn out the light and let me know where you’re keeping our money, George.”

I know money isn’t supposed to buy you happiness but it sure does a good job at keeping unhappiness at bay. My parents didn’t fight this bad until they had money problems.

So when my mom asked if I wanted to go with her to the gas station, I practically skipped to the car. Anything to get out of our house. I thought it would just be a boring errand, but nothing is ever that simple when it comes to my family.

Dr. Hightower, our doctor, was there. I swear she flinched when she saw me.

I am not Dr. Hightower’s favorite patient. Whenever I have a checkup she insists on asking me a million questions. And after each one I insist on asking, “Why do you want to know?” so my appointments usually run twice as long as the other patients’. We haven’t been to see her in a while so the whole run-in was awkward.

Mom told her we don’t feel comfortable going to see her since Dr. Bowman joined her practice. Dr. Marshall Bowman’s current wife is Dad’s ex-wife, Kathleen. It gets a little confusing because Kathleen and Marshall are Grace’s parents. But in a town this small, there’s bound to be some overlapping.

Dr. Hightower told my mom she’d get her a referral and told me that Amy and I are due for our school physicals. I’m surprised she brought this up since I usually mess up her schedule whenever I have an appointment. That reminded Mom that she got a doctor’s bill for Amy even though she hadn’t been to see Dr. Hightower. Dr. Hightower tried to act concerned, but it came across as more fake nice. Maybe she knew she was in a no-win situation with my mom. I can get that way, too, so I get it. It’s just annoying when someone other than me does it.

4:00 P.M.

When I got home, Amy was trying on clothes in front of Madison and Lauren. I guess every day at Grant High School is a fashion show, but Amy doesn’t have anything new. Maybe she should take Principal Miller’s advice and layer, layer, layer!

Anyway, I think Madison and Lauren were both bored by Amy’s fashion show, too, because when I walked in everyone was quiet. I gave Amy some tampons we got at the gas station because I knew she’d need them before I would. I left to join the tension downstairs because compared to Lauren and Madison, Mom and Dad are the lesser of two evils.

Weirdly, I noticed Madison had the box of tampons in her purse when she and Lauren were leaving. I asked Amy about it later and she stuttered that Madison was having a female emergency.

I told Amy we ran into Dr. Hightower at the gas station and Mom got a doctor’s bill from her even though Amy hasn’t had a checkup. Amy turned bright red and said she did go to see Dr. Hightower a few weeks ago for a school project. She had to write about someone she admires so she chose Dr. Hightower, and during the interview, Dr. Hightower went ahead and did a checkup.

Do I buy Amy’s story? No way. Especially after I told her that Dr. Bowman just joined Dr. Hightower’s practice. Her face went from red to white. I mean, we’re not happy about Dr. Bowman being there but it’s nothing to lose sleep over. I’m more concerned that Amy admires Dr. Hightower so much. Why????? The woman gets flustered when you ask her a question or twenty!

5:32 P.M.

While Amy was in the shower I snuck into her room to investigate. I flipped through her calendar looking for the red stars Amy always draws to keep track of her time of the month. I started in January. Amy usually gets it every thirty days, like clockwork. But as I got closer to the present I stopped seeing those stars. I hadn’t seen them for over a month when I finally caught up to today’s date. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It could be the stress of starting a new school or all that extra marching Amy has to do during football games. . . .

I went over every scenario to try to figure out where those stars went. I was so stressed out over it I hardly touched my dinner. The good news is that Amy’s mood hasn’t affected her stomach. Her appetite is bigger than Dad’s. It’s kind of amazing. If they were to enter some kind of eating contest, I’d put money on Amy, hands down. She devoured the burgers Mom made for dinner and took a box of crackers to bed with her. I asked why and she said she was still hungry and didn’t want to have to make the long walk to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a snack.

When I got to my room I went straight for my computer. Sherlock Holmes had Watson, I have Google. I entered all of Amy’s symptoms and clicked on “search” even though I already pretty much knew what was going on.

At least, I think I do. But I can’t believe I’m thinking it, even as I’m writing it down. Okay, there’s one thing I like about this journal. When you are scared to even think something and you can’t tell anyone, you can at least write it down and feel a little bit better.

I mean, it’s all starting to make sense now, I guess.