The Black Notebook

by Isabelle Snow

  “Fun only for you,” I muttered under my breath.

  If Colin heard me, he didn’t show it. He turned his attention to my desk. “Speaking of your notebook,” he said, striding towards it and examining my collection of black notebooks, “are you breeding notebooks or something?”

  I was about to explain to him why I had so many, but then he took one of the black notebooks there—the one that was separate from the rest. I paled. It was my diary. I hadn’t written in it or touched it since the day I lost the black notebook; I just got too busy chasing after Colin and coming up with plans while juggling my homework to write about my day at all.

  But that didn’t mean that all those other entries I wrote in it before weren’t full of embarrassing stuff about Colin, about how I wished again and again that he would notice me, and everything else that he should definitely NOT read.

  “Hey!” I hurried towards him and quickly snatched my diary from his fingers. I hugged it protectively to my chest and said, “You already stole one notebook already, and you’re still thinking of peeking into another?”

  Colin raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Sheesh.” He moved away from my desk and I eyed him warily before placing my diary back in its place among the other black notebooks.

  “So,” he began, making his way towards my shelf, “what were you planning to do that was so important you wanted to skip dessert for it?”

  “Actually,” I said slowly, “I wasn’t planning on doing anything.”

  He looked over at me and cocked an eyebrow. “So why are we in your room when the fruit cocktail’s down there?” he asked, nodding his head towards the way we came.

  I planted my hands on my hips and said, “You are only here because you offered to be. I’m here because…” I bit my lip, hesitating. “…because I didn’t want to face your dad.” I looked away and sighed. “When you left the table a while ago, mad, I just—”

  “I know,” he said, smiling, “I heard you.”

  I looked back at him with wide eyes. “You did?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. “And I wanted to say…thanks for that.”

  I turned away sheepishly and nodded. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t like the things your dad was saying.”

  “Well, it turned out okay anyway so let’s just not talk about it,” he quickly said, looking away and focusing on the books I had on my shelf.

  I looked up at him, watching the way he refused to meet my eyes, the way his hand shook just a little as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. Part of me—most of me, really—was itching to ask him about his dad and what Candice just told me. Maybe it was just the part of me that was so used to giving comfort and advice or maybe I was just naturally nosy, but I wanted to hear his side of the story.

  “Colin?” I said.

  “Hmm?” he asked, still not looking at me. He reached up, his long slim fingers brushing the spines of the books.

  “Candice told me what your dad did, how he cheated on your mom.”

  His hand stopped. It took him a moment before he replied, smiling a ghost of a smile, “So? What does that have to do with me?”

  “Colin,” I said, looking at him sternly. “It’s obviously affecting you or you wouldn’t have acted like you did a while ago. Don’t try to pretend otherwise.”

  Just like that, Colin dropped the act. His eyes took in a dangerous glint as he narrowed his eyes and his lips were absent of a smile. “Look, Seven, don’t assume you understand what I feel after hearing some story from Candice.”

  “I know it’s not just some story, Colin,” I said, “especially not to you. Candice told me that what happened to your parents changed you somehow. You stopped caring about things.”

  “What do you know about me, Seven?” he asked harshly. “You only see this happy-go-lucky guy who loves to kid around with you.” He shook his head. “You know nothing.”

  His words hurt like a slap. He started to move away from me, but I grabbed his arm. He turned back, a scowl ruining his beautiful face, but I took a step towards him and made him look me in the eye.

  “Do you think I’m that blind?” I asked defiantly. “I may not see the whole picture, but I can see fragments of a boy who doesn’t trust anyone to take him seriously anymore, so he doesn’t take anyone seriously either. You don’t want to end up like your mom, hurting because she still trusts someone who’s already betrayed her, hurt her. Tell me straight to my face that I’m wrong and I won’t bug you anymore.”

  He looked down at me, his green eyes searching for something in mine—maybe an answer, an understanding, I don’t know, but I didn’t break eye contact. We stayed like that for a while in silence, until finally he laughed softly. “I guess I can’t hide much from someone who’s so used to seeing these kinds of things from other people.”

  “You’ve got that right,” I said, stabbing his chest with my finger.

  Colin sighed and turned away from me, walking towards my bed. He sat there on the cushions and dragged a hand over his face. “Seven, if you were in my place,” he said quietly, “what would you do?”

  “Well, for starters, I would forgive him and—”

  “No,” he said without a second thought. “I’m not going to do that. Forget I asked.”

  “Colin,” I said in a placating tone, moving to sit beside him. I bounced a little on the cushions as I sat. “I know it’s going to be hard but you need to try—”

  “Hard?” he asked incredulously, turning to face me. “I think you mean impossible. Seven, my mom’s being too nice on him. She should’ve broken it off with him the moment she found out. He doesn’t deserve her and her forgiveness.”

  “No, your mom’s not being too nice. She just learned to forgive him, like you should,” I said. “Candice told me that your dad felt awful after what happened.”

  “Really?” he snorted. “Was that after he cheated on her or after he hit her, almost killing Cass off?”

  I stopped, my blood going cold. “What?”

  “Candice didn’t know about it, did she?” He let out a short laugh. “Well, how could she? She wasn’t at home when it happened. It was after he promised not to meet with that woman ever again. Mom believed him, but that didn’t mean she was happy with him. He probably couldn’t take the regret and guilt so he went drinking again to wash it all away. He came home, Mom told him off and he hit her. I don’t care if it was unintentional or not, he still did it and she fell to the floor and started bleeding, luckily we were able to bring her to the hospital in time. She was nine months pregnant with Cass.”

  “Colin,” I said, my features betraying my shock.

  “But I have to admit that he really did stop after that,” he said, tugging absently at the cuffs of his shirt. “He tried to make it up to Mom.” He paused for a while, too busy with his thoughts. “And for the record, some of the things he said were true.”

  “What things?”

  “I used to…sneak out every night to parties and come home, pretending to be intoxicated so he’d know how it felt to be the sober one talking to the drunk. I even brought home different girls, not to introduce to my family or anything, but just to piss him off. I stopped doing it after…” he trailed off.

  “After?” I asked, curious.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, I can’t forgive him that easily, Seven. I just…can’t.”

  “But don’t you see?” I asked, gently laying a hand on his arm. “Doing all those things—it doesn’t change what your dad did. It only changes you. It makes you more like him. He’s the drunkard, not you. He’s the one who doesn’t take things seriously, not you. He’s the one who takes revenge. Not you, Colin.”

  “But—”

  “And I don’t think your mom would like that,” I quickly cut him off. When he didn’t respond, didn’t deny it, I knew I’d hit a bullseye. I smiled. “Besi
des, I think I’d like this Colin better.”

  I wasn’t certain about it, but I thought I saw his eyes widen in surprise. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

  As I waited patiently for him to say something, I thought distractedly about everything I’d learned that night. What his dad did to cause a break in their family and Colin’s reaction to it gave me a bit of an understanding as to why he did most of the things he did, but I knew that didn’t mean he would change overnight. He’d been bent on revenge, even in these little doses like disobeying his dad and showing his outright dislike, for years now.

  I remembered a time when I was younger and I was experimenting with some paint, smearing the color all over my face. Mom had discovered the mess I’d made in my room and immediately told me to wash my face, but it didn’t come off that easily. I scrubbed and scrubbed, used steaming hot water, but in the end I still went to school the next day with green, red, and purple blotches all over my face.

  I might have told Colin to forgive what his father had done, to stop doing these things to spite him, and he’s going to try and get it out his system, but it would take a long, long while before he could truly forgive his dad.

  Colin twisted around to look at me and cleared his throat. “Before I go right ahead and forgive that ungrateful bastard,” he said, and I gave him a look, “can you do something for me first?”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Stay still.”

  I knitted my eyebrows in confusion but obliged. He didn’t leave me guessing for too long, though.

  Colin tentatively reached out and wrapped his arms around me in a hug, my head fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck like the missing piece to a puzzle. His thigh came flush with mine and he positioned his chin on the top of my head with a sigh.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” he said softly.

  I didn’t say anything as I listened to his heart beating steadily in his chest. Meanwhile, my heart was heavy and sinking.

  Okay, so Colin’s willing to forgive his dad, but what about my notebook? I couldn’t stop myself from thinking. Is that a part of his plan to tick his dad off too?

  I didn’t think so. Nobody knew about the black notebook except Colin and me. There was no real reason as to why he had to take it.

  But despite that, despite all that Colin had done—spinning me around in circles and embarrassing me, snaring me in my own traps and taunting me—I still found myself gravitating towards him, facing an irresistible urge to just let go of my guard and drink in his warmth like the sips from sweet-scented tea. I still wanted him to look at me and smile at me the way he did, to kiss me, to talk to me.

  If I were to be completely honest with myself, maybe I even wanted him to keep the black notebook so that I’d have a reason to interact with him. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have gotten to know Colin.

  I exhaled a sigh and found my arms, almost like they were moving by themselves, rising to snake around his waist.

  When Colin chuckled, I felt the rumble in his chest. He tightened his hold on me—just by a little bit—but it was unmistakable and so was the small smile on my face as my eyes slowly drifted close.

  Finally, when we pulled apart, I looked up and Colin smiled down at me, a dimple appearing on his left cheek.

  For some reason, I couldn’t resist it; I reached up and poked it, causing him to blink in surprise and laugh at me. He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his face, his stubble tickling my skin. He looked up at me from under his lashes as he brushed a kiss across my knuckles.

  I blushed, fumbling for words, but I was saved when we heard footsteps out in the hall. After a few seconds, my mom poked her head into the room and smiled at us.

  “Hey, you two,” she said. “Unfortunately, it’s time for Colin and his family to go. Cass is already getting sleepy.”

  “Okay, we’ll be down in a minute,” I said, trying to shadow my sadness at the prospect of saying goodbye with a smile.

  My mom nodded once and then left, but I had a feeling she was still lurking just outside, listening in on us.

  Colin sighed in what sounded like disappointment. “You know, they could always make Cass sleep on the couch. And then everyone can stay a little longer and be happy.”

  I swatted his arm playfully. “Colin,” I scolded him, but I was smiling.

  He shrugged, pushing himself off my bed. “I’m just saying.”

  “Yeah, well, it is getting late,” I reasoned, more to myself than to him.

  As we exited my room, he smirked down at me. “What, you getting rid of me already?”

  “I said no such thing.”

  “So you want me to stay?” he asked, his eyes lighting up like the first sparks of a fire.

  I didn’t answer him. I merely smiled and went on ahead. I was able to make a few steps before he caught up to me at the top of the stairs, grinning like a boy who got the toy he wanted for Christmas. When he was already walking in pace with me, he reached out as if it was the most casual thing in the world and swiftly took my hand in his.

  He never once let go, even when we were at the base of the staircase or when our families streamed out of our front door and we all stood on the porch, exchanging pleasantries and trading last minute stories. My heart soared when his hand shifted around and he laced our fingers together.

  I glanced over at him, and as I silently observed his shoulders, his broad back and the way they shook slightly when he laughed, I found myself tightening my grip on his hand.

  I should hate him, I told myself. He may be nice and sweet sometimes and he gives the greatest hugs, but the truth of the matter is that he won’t give back my notebook. If he really does care for me, like I wish he would, he would’ve given the notebook back by now. I should hate him already.

  So why don’t you? another voice asked me, not for the first time.

  I always had a pregnant pause at this, wondering to myself, why did I still fawn over Colin and think about him all day? More often than not he’d been making fun of my attempts to get back my notebook and cruelly playing with my emotions, hinting something here or there and then laughing at the fact that I’d actually believe him.

  Even now, as we held hands, I waited for the moment when he’d pull away and announce that I’d been tricked. Again.

  And yet I still didn’t hate him. I didn’t even dislike him for all those times he was a jerk. Yes, I was hurt, but I didn’t hate him for it.

  “Thank you so much for tonight,” I heard Colin’s mom say for the millionth time, bending forward to press her cheek against my mom’s. “We had such a wonderful time.”

  “No, thank you,” my mom insisted. “We should definitely do this again.”

  As everyone began saying their goodbyes, Colin leaned down so he could whisper to my ear, “Thanks for everything. I…I had a great time.” He added, “With you.”

  “Me too,” I said, smiling up at him.

  “Colin, come on,” Candice called after him. His family was already heading to the car.

  “Yeah,” he replied and then turned back to me, giving my hand one last squeeze. “Bye. I’ll text you, okay?”

  I grinned. “Okay. Bye, Colin.”

  Why? that part of me asked again, but this time, as his hand slowly withdrew from mine and I watched him walk away, the answer came easily.

  I love him.

  I blinked in surprise at my own thoughts. I was ready to deny it, even if it was just in my mind, but I couldn’t find myself to do it.

  Colin looked back over his shoulder at me, almost tripping down the porch in the process. He laughed at himself, his grin even wider than before, and I knew, deep in my bones and in my pounding heart, it was the truth. It wasn’t just a silly crush that I’d been harboring for years.

  I was actually falling for Colin.

  I just hoped, with what little hope I had left, that he’d be willi
ng to catch me in the end.

  Entry 16: Plan K: Seduction

  Date: April 8, 2013

  I stared, gaping, at the gruesome scene before me. Bones and guts were scattered everywhere and the blood had stained the gray stone beneath their feet. I couldn’t believe it.

  I fisted my hands and threw the controller angrily at the couch. “No fair! My controllers are two seconds delayed! I could’ve beaten your Sub-Zero hands-down!”

  Beside me, Patrick exploded into fits of laughter and when his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, he pushed them back up. As he moved, the lens reflected the TV screen and the bold red letters on it that read: FATALITY.

  My Kitana had died—for the fourth time, unfortunately.

  He leaned back on the couch and tossed the controller lightly to the side. He shrugged, still a little breathless from laughing. “It’s okay, pup. You don’t have to be a sore loser.”

  I gave his shoulder a playful shove, although it was admittedly a little hard, and he laughed again.

  It was already the last day of my spring break, and I’d originally planned on just reading a book—as always—but when Patrick decided to take a break from The Book Station and visit me and my mom, plans quickly changed and we ended up talking in the living room and setting up the old video games I used to play with my cousins when we were little, for the better half of the afternoon.

  But he didn’t come only to say hello and catch up.

  “I have great news,” he’d told my mom the moment she opened the front door and welcomed him in. His blue eyes had twinkled with eagerness and joy. “I finally made contact with my parents.”

  After all these years, despite the fact that Patrick had managed to survive through college and rise up to this meager, yet content life he was living, his parents still gave him the cold shoulder. Not that Patrick had tried to change anything about that, but now it seemed like he had.

  “I was able to grab hold of their latest number and gave them a call. Mom missed me, and Dad was gruff, but I thought I heard his voice crack.” He grinned as my mom clapped excitedly. “That is good news! So many years have passed…are you guys going to meet up?”