It was weathered.
It was a book.
And on the front in faded gold letters was a word. I dusted the dirt off the cover with my fingers to reveal the writing.
DIARY
Chapter 5
× −
From:
Ella
Sent:
Wednesday, 8:05 AM
To:
Olivia
Subject:
Discovery!
Hi Olivia,
I have to type quick because classes start in half an hour. I just found the most amazing thing! I had to rescue Grace from the top of the bell tower (long story—I’ll tell you later), and I found something hidden in the stone wall up there. Can you guess what it was? You’ll never guess, so I’ll just tell you.
It’s a DIARY!
It’s not like my diary that you used to try and steal from my bedroom. It’s way older than that. I think it might be, like, 100 years old or something! The cover is really worn and it looks really old-fashioned.
I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, but the writing inside looks like it’s right out of the olden days. It’s kinda curly and pretty and written in blotchy ink. I don’t know who wrote it, or what it’s about, but if someone took the time to hide it in a wall, then it must be very special and totes full of secrets!
I can’t wait to read it! I’ll tell you all about it soon.
Love, Ella
xx
I quickly slapped my laptop shut. We weren’t meant to use our laptops in our bedrooms—we were only meant to use them for homework and only in the study room downstairs. But I just had to email Olivia as soon as possible.
I put my laptop on the small desk in our room and jumped back onto my bed. I still had time to have a quick look before class. I reached under my pillow, where I had put the diary for safekeeping, and gently pulled it out.
I turned it over in my hands. The burgundy leather was wearing off and tiny pieces flaked onto my lap. It looked like an ancient artefact from the museum. I was going to have to be extra careful with this book.
I gently opened the diary to find the pages inside were yellow and weathered. They felt crunchy and dry between my fingers as I carefully leafed through the first few pages.
In beautiful, black inky letters that swirled at the ends were the words:
Diary of Elena
‘Elena,’ I whispered to myself. I wondered who she was. And why she had hidden her diary.
I turned to the first entry.
1 February 1940
1940?! That was AGES ago! I couldn’t believe my eyes. It wasn’t quite 100 years old like I’d imagined, but it wasn’t that far off either!
I continued to read.
My first entry in my very own diary. Papa sent it to me for my twelfth birthday, just this week! It was very kind of him. I know what a privilege it is to own such a handsome, leather-bound book of my very own.
But what does one write in such a beautiful book? Mama said I should keep a record of my learnings. Papa said I should write essays to make sure my English is perfect. That way I am not wasting all those years of English tutoring I had when we lived in Italy. Nonna said I should write the words of my heart— I think I like her idea most of all. But even though Italian is my heart’s language, I will continue to write in English, to please Papa.
I have only been a student at Eden College for a short time. Papa says I must do my very best to gain an exemplary education. He says he did not move us across the seas to simply sit and do nothing. No, I will work my very heart out to please my parents.
Although I must say, my first few weeks have not been easy. Many of the girls here are not like me. They think I speak in a strange accent. And I know I look different to them, with my long dark locks and my eyes like ‘pools of chocolate’, as Nonna would say. On top of that, some of them have been living here at Eden College since they were four years old. I must seem very new and peculiar.
I need to go now for my classes. But I am anxious to write more, my new friend. My diary.
Elena
I read over the words again slowly. It was the diary of a girl! A girl who was 12, just like me! And also in her first year of school at Eden College.
She said some of her classmates had been there since they were four. I couldn’t quite believe that Eden College used to take boarders from the age of four—so young! What else was there that I didn’t know about my new school?
Suddenly, the door opened with a bang. Grace, Violet and Zoe came bundling in, hurriedly gathering their books for morning classes.
‘What are you doing?’ Zoe asked.
‘I was reading the diary that I found in the bell tower with Grace. It’s really old,’ I said.
Zoe looked over and nodded.
‘Sounds really interesting, Ella, but I don’t want to be late for class,’ Violet said, as she gathered her books.
‘Maybe this diary will contain something secret— something I could write about for Eden Press!’ I exclaimed.
‘Come on, Ella, let’s go,’ Grace said.
I wrinkled my nose. My friends didn’t seem to share my excitement about my new find.
But I didn’t care. I was going to read the diary of Elena and see what mysteries she had to reveal to me. I was certain it was going to be something amazing.
Chapter 6
I was desperate to read more of Elena’s diary, but at lunchtime I had an Eden Press meeting, so I couldn’t do it then. I didn’t want to carry the diary around with me either, as I was worried it was too delicate. So I had hidden it back under my pillow in my room.
As the bell sounded for lunch, I trotted through the main building to the classroom we usually met in for Eden Press. Now that I was the Junior Journalist (which meant I was in charge of all the news for Year 7), I didn’t want to be late. As I scurried along the hall, I heard a voice call behind me.
‘Ella! Wait up!’
I turned and saw Saskia jogging towards me. Saskia was also in Eden Press, and it just so happened that her sister, Ivy, was the Editor of the newspaper. At first I’d been a bit worried that Ivy would be like Saskia, but she wasn’t at all. Ivy was a good leader. And a very good listener. She made coming to Eden Press really fun and she inspired us in our writing.
‘So, what are we going to be focusing on for the next edition?’ Saskia asked.
I had to admit, Saskia was being pretty good about me being the Junior Journalist. I wasn’t sure if this was because she thought I’d be good at the job or because I didn’t reveal a secret of hers in the last edition of the paper.
‘Not sure. Let’s go inside and see what the others think,’ I answered.
We entered the classroom, where Ivy and two other Year 9 girls were sitting at the head of the table with their laptops open. Ivy waved to us as we took a seat at the big square table. Slowly, the other girls who were part of Eden Press filed into the room.
‘OK, it’s great to see everyone!’ Ivy said, clapping her hands to get our attention.
‘I just want to say that everyone is loving the new look of the online paper. Our online data shows that our readership was up by 20% last edition. So, well done!’ Ivy said. ‘And Ella, your piece was particularly well received. I think we need more of that stuff—human-interest pieces about what it’s like to live here at school.’
My cheeks flushed pink with pride.
‘Everyone grab a marker and we’ll start workshopping the next edition,’ Ivy said, tossing out marker pens.
Eden College had these cool tables, where you could write directly onto their surfaces, like a whiteboard. We could gather around and write our ideas on them, and then they would just wipe clean!
‘I was thinking, what about a theme for this edition?’ Ivy asked.
Everyone mumbled excitedly—a theme could be a really fun idea!
Ivy smiled. ‘Suggestions?’
‘Balance,’ a Year 8 girl said. ‘Like, show all the different areas of our life at Eden and do
stories about how we balance everything.’
Ivy nodded and wrote it down. Others started to shout out their thoughts.
‘Recreation.’
‘Friendship.’
‘Mystery!’
‘Ooh, I like that,’ Ivy smiled.
I thought about Elena’s journal. I didn’t want to tell everyone at Eden Press about it yet—not when I’d only just found it and didn’t know what secrets it held. But I did have an inkling that there was going to be a great story in there.
‘How about,’ I stammered, slightly self-consciously, ‘past and present?’
Ivy stopped and tilted her head to the side. Everyone else seemed to be thinking, too.
‘I think that’s a really interesting idea, Ella,’ she said, as she jotted it down in the centre of the table.
‘I think it’s a brilliant idea!’ Saskia cheered.
Wait, what?
Ivy looked confused, clearly unsure if Saskia was being sarcastic.
Saskia laughed. ‘I really do! It fits in perfectly with the upcoming Alumni Luncheon!’
‘What’s “alumni”?’ one of the other Year 7 girls asked.
‘It means a former pupil of a school or university,’ I said.
Ivy nodded. ‘Every few years we hold a special event at the school where students from the past come in for a reunion. We host a beautiful lunch and they speak about their lives. It’s really interesting, actually.’
‘And the best bit,’ Saskia interrupted, ‘is that if you are a relative of one of the former students, you get to attend the special lunch with them. Everyone knows that our family have been Eden Girls for decades, so I think this is the perfect story for me to report on!’
Ivy glanced over at me. I could see she was worried how I’d react, since the ‘past and present’ thing was my idea. To be honest, it was a bit of a sting. I would have enjoyed reporting on the luncheon. But I still had Elena’s diary, and who knew? Maybe that was going to be a way better story. I smiled and nodded.
‘OK, I think that’s a good plan,’ Ivy smiled.
We then broke up into our year groups to plan more of the other articles we might be able to do on this theme. Saskia’s eyes were bright as she planned her piece on the Alumni Luncheon. She chattered about all the family members who would be coming along, including her great-grandmother.
I felt a pang of jealously. Not because I wanted to show off people in my family who had been at Eden before me, but because I would have loved nothing more than to have a lunch with my mum and Nanna Kate and Great Nanna Peggy all in the same room. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat, which I tried to swallow down. It was like an annoying piece of food lodged in my throat that also happened to make me want to cry.
These moments of homesickness and sadness weren’t as common now that I was a bit more used to living at school. But every now and then, tiny things snuck up on me and made me think of my family, and while sometimes that made me happy, other times it made me really sad.
My Nanna Kate says sadness can be like that. She says sadness and happiness can get caught up in a tangle. The most beautiful of things can sometimes transform happiness to sadness in a moment—a whiff of your favourite flower, the first few notes of an old song or the feeling of grains of sand slipping through your fingers on a warm summer’s day at the beach.
I swallowed hard and focused on our brainstorming session. Then the bell pierced through our chatter and we hurriedly gathered our things together for class.
‘I hope I didn’t upset you,’ Saskia said, as she put her pens back into her pencil case. She flicked her long, blonde ponytail over her shoulder and stared at me with her piercing blue eyes.
‘How so?’ I asked.
‘Oh, I mean with all my talk of how important my family is to Eden. I mean, my great-grandmother was one of the founding headmistresses, after all. And I get that it might make you a little jealous.’
‘I’m not jealous that your family has a history at the school,’ I laughed. ‘I just miss my family.’
Saskia raised an eyebrow. ‘I guess you would say that,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I mean, you probably don’t understand just how special my family is here.’
I decided not to argue with Saskia.
‘Anyway!’ she chirped, as she gathered up her belongings and skipped out the door.
I shook my head. Surely it didn’t really matter that I had no history at the school. I mean, I didn’t think Zoe, Grace or Violet did either—none of their mums or grandmas were Eden Girls. And nobody other than Saskia seemed to care about it. It wasn’t really that important, was it?
Chapter 7
For once, I had no scheduled activities on after school. Zoe, Grace and Violet all had different things on, so it gave me the perfect opportunity to spend some time alone with Elena’s diary.
I collected my afternoon tea from the dining hall and then raced up to my room to retrieve the diary. I very carefully pulled the book out from under my pillow and carried it downstairs, tucked securely under my arm. I headed out the front door and onto Centenary Lawn, finding a quiet tree to sit under where nobody else was eating.
I bit into my apple, which was crisp and sweet. Then I placed it down beside me and wiped my hands on the sides of my dress. I gently opened the diary to the second entry and, as the warm afternoon breeze fluttered the pages, began to read.
4 February 1940
To my only friend, my diary,
Oh, how I long for a friend who isn’t a book. Not to cause offence to you, my diary, for I love that you listen to my ramblings. But wouldn’t it just be the loveliest thing in the world to have a true friend of my own?
The girls here are not so friendly to me. I know my accent is very different and sometimes they don’t seem to understand me. Or perhaps they just pretend they can’t.
I heard one of the girls, Hazel, whispering behind her hand and glaring in my direction. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was saying, but the other girls who were listening looked at me with wide suspicious eyes. I heard one phrase clearly, however: ‘can’t be trusted’. Could that have been about me, dear diary? Why would I not be trustworthy? Nonna says that trustworthiness is one of the most important attributes of a kind soul. And I always thought I was a kind soul.
It makes my heart heavy.
But, my diary, I have something of great excitement to tell you amongst these ramblings of melancholy. I have found something secret and special in the walls of this very school! I was exploring through the quiet corners of the main house, by myself, when I found it. I daren’t write where it is, lest someone read this diary and find my secret place.
But, oh, what a wonderful discovery! A place of solitude of my very own. A true secret find! And the part I like the most is that it takes me out into the surrounding environment. We are so carefully watched here at Eden and I rarely get to go out into the trees and skip amongst the birds, like I did back in my homeland of Italy. So to find somewhere that gives me secret access to nature—it is like a dream!
In other exciting news, Papa has written and said he is making me my very own special collection piece. His hands are like those of a creator of life—he crafts such beauty. I can’t wait for him to send it.
I will leave you now, my diary, but will write again soon.
Elena
I frowned. There was so much in the entry that left me perplexed (that means very confused and curious). Why were the other girls whispering about Elena? Sure, she was from another country, but why would that make a difference?
The part that excited me the most was Elena’s revelation of a ‘secret place’, right here in the school! I wondered where on earth it could be! She mentioned the ‘main house’. Was that the dormitory or the main building? And what was the ‘special piece’ her father was making for her?
I felt like I had more questions than answers after reading Elena’s diary entry. Everything in me wanted to race through the rest of her journal and see if I could fin
d the answers, but I also wanted to take my time. I wanted to find as many clues as I could, hidden in Elena’s words. And I wanted to savour the experience of reading the diary because it was just so interesting!
I pulled out my notebook and jotted down the most important things I’d discovered so far:
• ‘Secret place’ within the school—where is the ‘main house’?
• Why is Elena an outcast?
• Elena’s Papa’s? ‘special piece’?
‘What are you doing?’
I looked up and shielded my eyes from the dipping sun to see the petite silhouette of Violet.
‘Just reading that journal I found,’ I said to her.
She crouched down and reached her hand out. ‘Can I see?’
I felt my stomach flip. Of course I wanted to show her, but I was also very protective of the delicate old book.
Violet sensed my hesitation and laughed. ‘I’ll be very careful.’
I smiled and handed it to her.
‘Wow, it’s really old, isn’t it? Anything interesting?’ she asked.
‘Not quite yet,’ I said cautiously. All I’d found so far were more questions. ‘But there could be.’
Violet nodded and gently handed it back to me.
‘How was Madrigals?’ I asked. Madrigals was a super special singing group at Eden College. It wasn’t just a choir, but a much smaller group for only the very best singers in the school. They had to sing lots of different parts without any background music. They often sang really old-fashioned songs, but they still sounded amazing. Violet was a beautiful singer with a stunning voice. I was constantly shocked that such big majestic sounds could come out of such a tiny person.
‘Good, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m going to go inside and get a bit of homework done before dinner. Want to come?’
It was when she stood up that I noticed she was carrying a large pearl envelope. It looked like it was made of special shiny paper—the kind you might get for a wedding invitation.
Secret Journal Page 3
