Dear Diary, I'm Dead Page 3

  Will it tell me the future every day?

  Or was that some kind of accident or coincidence?

  Why was that entry in the diary in the first place? And why was it written in my handwriting?

  I didn’t want to think about those two questions. They were kind of scary.

  I crossed my fingers on both hands. “Please, please—show me another entry,” I muttered.

  Knowing the future was so totally cool. It meant that my grades were going to be better than ever. It meant that I could win a thousand bets with everyone! I could be rich by the end of the school year!

  Rich! How sweet!

  How totally sweet!

  It meant that I’d never be broke again. It meant that I’d be a winner. A winner—and everyone would know it.

  And … it meant that I’d always be one day ahead of Tessa.

  I’d had the diary for only one day. One single day. But already I knew that I needed it.

  Needed it!

  My heart was racing as I tore open the back door and burst into the house. Clara, our housekeeper, was at the sink. I called “hi” to her and ran to the front stairs.

  Then I pulled myself up the stairs two at a time.

  I stumbled on the top step and nearly fell on my face. My backpack slid off my shoulders and bumped to the floor.

  I didn’t bother to pick it up.

  I ran to my room.

  And dove for the desk.

  I pulled out the black leather diary.

  “Please … please …” I muttered, gasping for breath.

  I flipped open the cover. Gazed at the first page—the entry for today. So true. All of it, so true.

  And what about tomorrow?

  Breathing hard, I carefully turned to the next page.

  I stared wide-eyed at the page. And let out a cry.

  Nothing.

  Nothing there.

  I shuffled through the pages. All blank.

  I closed the book and opened it again. But still the only entry was the first one.

  I tossed the diary down and pounded my fists on the wooden desktop.

  I felt so disappointed. As if someone had given me a really awesome Christmas present and then taken it away the next day.

  I sat there for a few minutes, staring at the diary, trying to get over my disappointment. Then I dragged my backpack into my room and tried to do some math homework.

  But it was hard to think about algebra.

  Every five or ten minutes, I reached for the diary. And I opened it, hoping to find an entry about tomorrow.

  At dinner, Mom and Dad were talking about going on a winter vacation to some island. They expected me to be excited about it.

  But I barely heard a word they said. I kept thinking about the diary.

  “Alex, are you feeling okay?” Mom asked, clearing my half-eaten dinner away. “You’re very quiet tonight. That’s not like you.”

  “I’m just thinking,” I replied.

  Dad laughed. “That’s not like you either!” he joked.

  Ha-ha.

  I slid my chair back. “May I be excused?”

  I didn’t wait for an answer. I took off, running up the stairs to my room. I dove to the desk and grabbed the diary.

  “Yes!” I cried happily. “Yes!” I did a wild dance around my room.

  A new entry had appeared about tomorrow. Again, it was in my handwriting.

  How is this happening? I asked myself. Is it some kind of strange magic? Do the new pages always arrive after dinner?

  My hands were shaking from excitement. What is going to happen tomorrow?

  I held the book steady in both hands and eagerly read:

  DEAR DIARY,

  Wow! What a great day! Chip, Shawn, and I went to the basketball game after school. And it was amazing! The Ravens won in overtime!

  Everyone in the gym went crazy. I thought they were going to tear the building down!

  “Whoa!” I murmured. My heart was pounding. I read that first part again.

  Our team will win in overtime tomorrow. And then the diary gave me the final score of the game.

  Wow!

  I can win a few bets with that information!

  If the diary tells me the score of every game before it happens, I’ll never lose another bet! I’ll be the richest kid in school!

  And everyone will think I’m some kind of genius!

  I turned back to the diary:

  Tessa is suspicious about the geography test. I saw her watching me. She is very curious about how I did so well on the test when everyone else flunked.

  I’m going to have to be a lot more careful around Tessa. I don’t want her to know about this diary.

  She would ruin everything for me if she found out. I know she would.

  I heard a cough.

  From behind me.

  “Huh?” I turned quickly—and gasped.

  Tessa stood in the doorway, scowling at me. Her eyes were on the diary.

  I slammed the book shut and shoved it into the top desk drawer. Then I jumped to my feet, ready to protect the diary from Tessa.

  She stepped into the room, shaking her head. “I’m not interested in your stupid diary,” she said. “You don’t have to hide it, Alex. I wouldn’t read it if you paid me!”

  I let out a sigh of relief. But I didn’t move away from the desk. I didn’t trust her.

  “I—I haven’t started my diary entry for today yet,” I said. That was kind of true. “I’m going to write it tonight.”

  “Don’t bother,” Tessa replied. “It won’t be as good as mine.”

  “Why did you come over?” I asked. And then I flashed her an evil grin. “Need help with your geography homework?”

  She groaned and narrowed her eyes at me. “How did you know about that test this morning, Alex?” she asked. Her green eyes burned into mine.

  “Uh … what makes you think I knew about it?” I said.

  “You knew about it,” she replied, still studying me. “You had to know about it. Or else you never would have passed it.”

  Wow! Tomorrow’s diary entry is already coming true, I thought.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s stupid,” I said. “How would I know about a surprise test?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you,” she replied, tossing back her blond hair with a snap of her head. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “I … just had a hunch,” I replied. “Just a weird hunch. So I read over chapter eight last night. You know. Just in case my hunch was right.”

  She twisted up her heart-shaped lips and squinted hard at me. “A hunch?” She snickered. “You cheated somehow. I know you cheated. Did Mrs. Hoff tell you about the test in advance?”

  “Huh?” I made a face at Tessa. “Why would Mrs. Hoff tell me anything? It was a wild hunch. Really.”

  I uncrossed my arms, feeling a little more relaxed. “Is that what you came over to ask me?”

  Tessa seemed to relax too. “No. Not really …” She dropped down on the arm of a chair. “I was talking to Shawn….”

  “About what?”

  “About your band,” she said. “You see, I’m a really good singer, and I’ve always wanted to sing with a band. And I know you guys don’t have a singer. So—”

  “You like to sing?” I interrupted. I couldn’t picture it. Tessa was so stiff, so serious.

  My stomach suddenly knotted in dread. Tessa wants to join our band. No! Please—no!

  “I sing along to CDs all the time,” she said. “And everyone says I’m very good. I’m really into pop, and I can sing oldies too. I’ve never tried rap, but—”

  “Please!” I cried out. I couldn’t help myself. The idea of Tessa singing rap made my stomach churn.

  She jumped to her feet. “So do you think I could be in your band?”

  “Well …” I swallowed hard. “Maybe,” I said.

  “Maybe?”

  “I’ll talk to Chip and Shawn. We’ll take a vote or something. T
hen I’ll let you know—okay?”

  She seemed a little disappointed. She started to the door. “Okay,” she said softly. “Thanks.”

  I couldn’t wait for her to leave. As soon as I heard the door slam behind her, I pulled out the diary. And I read the entry about tomorrow five or six more times.

  I memorized the score of tomorrow’s Ravens game. And I made a plan for betting my friends on the game.

  I was so excited, it took me a long time to fall asleep. When I finally drifted off, I dreamed about the diary.

  I dreamed I was sitting at my desk. Thunder roared outside, and lightning flashed in my bedroom window. The white light flickered in my room.

  I lifted the diary from my desk drawer and began to read it by the flashing lightning.

  In the dream, I turned the pages slowly. They were all filled in, but I didn’t stop to read them.

  Until I got to the last page.

  Thunder boomed all around me. I raised the last page close to my face to read it.

  And I saw one word on the page. Only one word, in bold black ink.

  In the dream, I stared at the word as the lightning made it flicker on the page:

  DEAD.

  One word on the last page of the diary:

  DEAD.

  In my handwriting:

  DEAD.

  The dream ended in a blinding white flash of lightning.

  I opened my eyes and sat straight up in bed.

  Drenched with sweat, my pajamas stuck wetly to my skin.

  Morning sunlight poured into the room. Mom stood at my bedroom doorway. She smiled at me. “Alex, you’re already up? I came to wake you for school.”

  “Mom?” I asked, my voice hoarse from sleep. “Do dreams ever come true?”

  “Move over,” Chip boomed. He bumped me hard, forcing me to slide along the bleacher seat. Then he bumped me again, even harder, making me bounce into the guy next to me.

  Chip laughed. He just likes bumping people. It’s kind of his hobby.

  The bleachers in the gym were filling up with kids and parents and a few teachers. Everyone cheered as the Ravens came running onto the floor in their black and gold uniforms, each player dribbling across the court.

  The other team came running out of the visitor locker room. Their uniforms were yellow, and they were called the Hummingbirds.

  Chip bumped me hard in the ribs with his elbow. “What a geeky name for a basketball team,” he said. “The Hummingbirds.”

  “Yeah. Tweet-tweet,” I said.

  Shawn turned around from the bench below us.

  “It’s not so bad,” he insisted. “Hummingbirds are very fast. And some people think they bring good luck.”

  Good old Shawn. He always has all the info.

  Chip reached down and messed up Shawn’s hair. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the Hummingbirds as they warmed up. “Tweet-tweet! Tweet-tweet!”

  Some other kids laughed and joined in, until the chant spread across the gym.

  The Hummingbirds were making most of their warm-up shots. One of their players was a giant. He had to be seven feet tall!

  “Who is that guy?” I asked.

  “His name is Hooper,” Shawn said, turning around again.

  Chip laughed. “He plays basketball and his name is Hooper? Cool!”

  “He’s only in seventh grade, and he’s already six foot three,” Shawn reported.

  “Wow. He’s a big Hummingbird!” I said.

  A lot of kids laughed at that.

  The game was about to start. I knew it was time to get serious.

  “We’re going to beat these birds,” I said. “Anyone want to bet on it?”

  Shawn turned around again. “Alex, you want to bet on the Ravens? Look at this guy Hooper. They’re going to stuff us!”

  “Yeah. This guy Hooper can block every shot,” Chip said. “Look at him. He’s a tree!”

  A guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder. “You want to take the Ravens? I’ll take the Hummingbirds. How much do you want to bet?”

  “Yeah. I’ll take the Hummingbirds too,” Chip said. “Bet you five bucks.”

  This is too easy, I thought. Way too easy.

  I had a plan. It was time to put it into gear.

  “I don’t want that bet,” I said. “I want to do another kind of bet.”

  About a dozen kids were leaning in, listening to me now.

  The referee’s whistle echoed off the gym walls. Kids were cheering and shouting. The teams were gathering at center court.

  “I’ll bet anyone five dollars that this game goes into overtime,” I announced.

  “Huh?”

  “Get serious!”

  “Overtime? No way!”

  I heard cries of disbelief all around.

  “Alex, that’s stupid,” Shawn whispered. “Don’t throw away your money.”

  “Who’s got five dollars?” I called out. “Five dollars says the game goes into overtime. If it doesn’t, I pay you five bucks.”

  More cries of disbelief. Guys were muttering that I’d totally lost it.

  But ten kids took the bet. Ten times five. That’s fifty bucks I was about to win.

  If the diary’s prediction came true …

  I sat on the edge of the bench the entire game. My muscles were all tensed and I kept my hands clenched together in my lap.

  The Hummingbirds got out to an early lead. The Ravens had a lot of trouble scoring because of Hooper. He stood under the basket and batted away just about every shot the Ravens took.

  At halftime, the ’Birds were ahead by eight points. It looked pretty bad.

  Chip, Shawn, and the other eight guys who bet against me all had big grins on their faces. “No way this game goes into overtime,” Chip said, and he bumped me so hard, I fell into the aisle.

  “We’ll see,” I said. But my stomach was doing flip-flops. I knew I didn’t have fifty dollars to pay off the bet if I lost. In fact, I had only six dollars to my name.

  The diary had to be right. Or else I was dead!

  Dead.

  The frightening dream suddenly flashed back into my mind. Once again I saw the single word written in big, bold script on the back page:

  DEAD.

  I blinked the picture away. Then I leaned forward and concentrated on the game, which had started up again.

  The ’Birds scored first. Hooper hardly had to jump to slam-dunk the ball through the net.

  I let out a groan. The Ravens were down by ten points now. If the game was going into overtime, they had to get to work.

  I crossed my fingers on both hands and watched the game intently. I barely breathed. I kept seeing those ten guys with their hands stuck in my face, demanding their five dollars.

  With a few minutes to go in the game, the Ravens had pulled to within two points. The seconds ticked by. The teams moved up and down the court.

  A shot—and a miss.

  A bad pass out of bounds.

  Only a few seconds left. The Ravens had the ball. The kid with the ball drove right at Hooper. Hooper tripped. The Raven sent up a short layup.

  Yes!

  The Ravens tied the score at twenty-six just as the final buzzer went off. The game was going into overtime.

  The gym practically exploded with cheers and startled cries. Kids stamped their feet so hard, the bleachers creaked and shook.

  I leaped up and began jumping up and down on the bleacher floor. I pumped my fists in the air.

  “Overtime! Overtime! I win! I win BIG-time!”

  I went around and made everyone pay up. Ten times five. My biggest win ever.

  How did it feel? Try great!

  Chip was grumbling to Shawn. “This didn’t happen,” he muttered. “How could Alex know it would go into overtime?”

  “So he got lucky once,” Shawn replied.

  Time for part two of my plan.

  I stood up and turned to the guys who had bet me. “I’ll give you a chance to win your money back
,” I announced. “I’ll bet five dollars that the final score is 34 to 30, Ravens.”

  They were even more surprised at this bet. Some of them laughed really hard. The others just shook their heads.

  “Come on, guys,” I urged, “I’m giving you a chance. If the score isn’t 34 to 30, I’ll pay you back your money.”

  Only eight guys took this bet. The other two said they didn’t have any more money to lose.

  “You’re crazy,” Shawn told me. “You’re totally whacked.” But he took the bet anyway.

  I sat back and concentrated on the game.

  Would the diary come through again? So far, it had been totally right each time.

  The overtime period was only five minutes. I didn’t have long to wait.

  Kids were screaming and cheering and stomping their feet. The game was tied at thirty. Then the Ravens scored two straight baskets right over Hooper’s head.

  Now the screams were so loud, I had to cover my ears with my hands.

  I gazed at the scoreboard: 34 to 30, Ravens. Only five seconds left to play.

  “Pay up, guys!” I shouted. “Check out the score! Alex the Great wins again!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hooper move to the basket. He sent up a long jump shot just as the buzzer rang out.

  Swish! It dropped through!

  Final score: Ravens, 34 to 32!

  I lost the bet.

  I paid the guys their money. They were laughing and goofing, slapping me on the back.

  Chip kept chanting, “Alex the Great! Alex the Great!” He wrapped me in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles against the top of my head until my skull throbbed.

  I finally pulled free and hurried down the bleacher steps. I saw Tessa watching me from the other bleacher. I waved to her, but I didn’t stop.

  I pushed through the crowd and made my way out of the school building. I had to get home to check the diary.

  I ran all the way. I was totally out of breath, my right side aching, by the time I got to my room.

  I pulled the diary from its drawer and turned to the second entry, the page for today.

  I ran my finger down the page until I came to the final score of the basketball game. Yes. The final score in the diary was 34 to 32.

  The diary had it right.

  You see, I had deliberately lost the bet. I’d bet on the wrong score on purpose. I’d let them win.