Chapter 5 Austin - Finding Inspiration
Chapter 5
Austin - Finding Inspiration
A fter I dropped off Sydney, I drove across the mall parking lot for my own shift, at Burger Burger. A couple of guys from the local high school were working. Normally we’d chat as we assembled burgers. They always asked me about the parties at the fraternity house and whether the sorority girls acted as wild as they saw in the movies. I usually delighted in telling them wild, fabricated stories about my romantic exploits, but today I still felt shell-shocked by the dog incident. Calling the two of them know-nothing nincompoops sent them scattering.
When I got back to the frat house, I tried to call Renee, but only got her voicemail. She must be out at her aunt’s farm, working on training for the next rodeo with Lightning. I took a shower, but that layer of fast-food grease never seemed to melt away no matter how hard I scrubbed or how hot the water ran.
I sat down at my desk, still wrapped in my towel at the waist, and grabbed my backpack. Two chapters in Marketing needed my attention. But when I unzipped the large compartment, my Marketing textbook wasn’t there. Instead, I found a purple three-ring binder, a French textbook and a small purple book with tiny white daisies on it .
Great. Now I did have a girl’s backpack.
Sydney had been writing in that book when I met up with her at the library. Curiosity got the better of me, and I picked it up. I opened the cover and on the first page it read: Property of Sydney Campbell. I slammed it shut. This had to be her diary, and I didn’t want to invade her personal space. I dropped it into the backpack and zipped it closed.
But… as I pulled on pajama pants and hung up my towel over my closet door, I could hear that diary calling my name. Begging me to read it.
Nope. Austin, don’t even.
I shuffled down to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this book held something important.
I carried a quart of milk and my sandwich back to my room. I set them on my nightstand and turned on the small radio next to my plate, tuned to the cool country music station. I reclined against the pillows on my extra-long twin bed, eating my snack and listening to the music. That diary still nagged at me. Once I finished my sandwich, I grabbed her backpack, pulled out her diary, then sat there like a guilty dog.
The hardback cover was smooth.
Twenty little daisies dotted it.
Finally, I opened it to the first page.
I’d crossed into forbidden territory now.
I skimmed over the pages, which smelled like strawberry lip gloss. Most of her musings revolved around school, work, and her family. Nothing jumped out as being terribly interesting or scandalous. About halfway through, I decided I had invaded her privacy enough. As I flipped through the rest, I passed a page that had doodles of daisies around the edges. They looked like the ones on the cover. Happy. Inviting. Surrounding a poem.