Dear Diary, I'm Dead Read online

  And if it says I jump off the roof …

  I’m going to break my neck. Or worse. Because the diary is … in control.

  Trembling in the strong wind, I glanced down at the crowd again. The kids had grown silent. They all stared up at me tensely. No one moved.

  I stared down at them, my mind swirling like the wind.

  “Get down!” someone shouted.

  “Alex—be careful!” I heard Nella cry.

  “Alex—back up! Get back!”

  Maybe I can make big bucks from this jump, I suddenly thought. If I’m going to break all my bones, at least maybe I can win a few bets.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted down to them. “Does anyone dare me to jump?”

  The wind blew the words back at me. And before anyone down below could reply, my shoes started to slide on the wet shingles.

  “No—!” I gasped.

  My arms flew up in the air as I lost my balance.

  My legs slid out from under me.

  My hands flapped wildly in the air.

  One shoe caught in the gutter. The other slid over the edge.

  I heard shrill screams. A rush of cold wind.

  And flailing, kicking, and thrashing, I fell.

  The ground shot up to meet me.

  It looked like a video game. All bright colors and screaming sound, and everything happening in jagged slow motion.

  And then I saw a figure shooting forward. An alarmed face.

  Arms straight out.

  A hard thud.

  I bounced. Bounced in someone’s arms.

  Colors swirled around me. And the screams—the screams all around, so shrill, I thought my ears would burst.

  “Huh?” I uttered a choked cry as I realized someone had caught me.

  A teacher. Mrs. Walker, the art teacher. I landed hard on top of her. We both tumbled to the grass. She let out a groan, then struggled to untangle herself from me.

  How embarrassing, I thought, still dizzy, still falling in my mind. Still feeling the ground rushing up to me.

  How embarrassing. Caught by a teacher.

  “Alex, are you okay?” she asked breathlessly, climbing shakily to her feet.

  I jumped up quickly. “Fine,” I said, trying to shake off the dizziness. “Fine … I guess.”

  Mrs. Walker let out a sigh. She brushed off her jacket. Then tested her arms. “You should go on a diet if you’re going to jump off buildings.”

  Lots of kids laughed. I forced a smile.

  Mrs. Walker’s expression changed. “What on earth were you doing up there?”

  “Billy’s cap,” I murmured. “I had to bring down his cap….”

  Where was it? What happened to the cap?

  I glanced around. And saw a black-and-silver Raiders cap pulled down low over Billy’s head. A big grin beneath the cap.

  Billy was happy.

  For the second time in one week, he had almost gotten me killed! And there he was, grinning his head off.

  “That was really dangerous,” Mrs. Walker said.

  I nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  My whole life has become dangerous, I thought. My whole life is one frightening moment after another.

  All because of the diary.

  I picked up my backpack and started for home. Kids slapped me high-fives and congratulated me.

  “Way to go, Alex!”

  “That was totally cool!”

  But I didn’t feel totally cool. And I didn’t feel like celebrating.

  I wanted to hurry home and think. I had to think hard about this. Should I keep the diary? Or should I throw it in the trash?

  Could I throw it in the trash?

  No. No … it had a powerful hold on me, I realized.

  I needed it. I needed to know what would happen next.

  I couldn’t fight it. I had tried to fight what it said. I had tried to make the diary wrong.

  But it was always right. Always.

  I burst into the house and tossed down my backpack. Then I leaped up the stairs two at a time.

  I dove into my room. My heart pounding, I crossed to my desk.

  Jerked open the drawer.

  Reached for the diary. Reached for it.

  “Huh?” I uttered a sharp cry.

  Panic choked my throat.

  My hand fumbled through the drawer. I pulled the drawer out all the way.

  And stared down.

  Stared wide-eyed.

  Gone.

  The diary was gone!

  I heard someone laugh.

  Startled, I spun around.

  Chip and Shawn sat on my bed, grinning. Chip waved the diary at me.

  “Hey—!” I cried. “Where’d you get that?”

  Chip’s grin grew wider. He pointed. “On your desk. Shawn and I are going to read your deep, dark secrets.”

  “No!” I screamed. “Give it back!” I dove across the room and made a grab for it.

  Chip giggled and dodged away from me. He tossed the diary to Shawn.

  Shawn jumped to his feet and ran to the door.

  “Come on—!” I shouted. “Give it!” I leaped at Shawn. Tackled him around the waist.

  As I pulled him to the floor, he heaved the diary back to Chip. Chip reached for it—but it flew over his hand and bounced off the wall, onto the bed.

  Chip and I dove for it, scrambling. I shoved him hard. “Give it back to me!” I shrieked. “I mean it! Give it back!”

  Then I totally lost it. I jumped on top of him and began pounding him with my fists. “Give it back! Give it back!”

  Stunned, Chip rolled away. He dropped onto the floor and stared up at me in surprise. “Okay, okay,” he muttered. “It’s just a stupid diary.”

  I grabbed the little book and squeezed it tightly in my hand. I struggled to catch my breath. My heart was pounding.

  “What is your problem, Alex?” Shawn asked, shaking his head. “We weren’t going to hurt your diary.”

  “You didn’t have to go totally berserk,” Chip added.

  “What’s in that diary anyway?” Shawn asked. “Did you write stuff about us in there?”

  “No,” I said. “No way.” I tucked the diary into the desk drawer and pushed the drawer shut. “I just … don’t like people messing with my stuff.”

  “We’re not people,” Shawn replied, eyeing me intently. “We’re your friends!”

  “I know, but—”

  “Forget about the diary,” Chip said. He grabbed my arm and used me to pull himself to his feet. “Let’s hang out or something. We could try those new video games you got.”

  “Uh … I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got to … uh … go somewhere with my parents tonight. So I have to do my homework now.”

  They both stared at me. Could they tell I was lying?

  I didn’t want to hang out with them. I wanted to see the new diary entry. I wanted to sit and think about the diary.

  They had given me a bad scare. When the diary wasn’t in its right place, I totally freaked. Now I knew—I needed the diary. Needed it!

  But I couldn’t explain it to them. I couldn’t really explain it to myself.

  As soon as they left, I pulled the diary from the desk and eagerly shuffled through the pages. No new entry yet. I read over the old ones.

  True. Everything in it was true. Every prediction had been exactly right.

  I didn’t know how it was happening. Or why. But as I stared at the blank pages, waiting for them to fill up with the next entry, I knew that I couldn’t live without this book. I hated it—and I needed it at the same time.

  After dinner, the next entry was waiting for me in the diary. But it was an entry I wished I hadn’t read. An entry I didn’t want to believe.

  First, it gave me the score of tomorrow’s Ravens game. Very handy.

  But the rest of the entry filled me with dread:

  After the basketball game, Shawn was riding his bike home. It was a cloudy, foggy evening, and Shawn was going re
ally fast to get home before the rain started.

  He wasn’t looking where he was going. And I saw him crash. I saw the whole thing.

  He smashed head-on into a parked truck. Poor Shawn. He flipped up into the air. He landed hard. Knocked unconscious. And he broke his leg in two places.

  “No way!” I cried out loud, staring until the words blurred on the page. “No way. I won’t let this happen. I can’t let this happen.”

  The diary entries were becoming more and more frightening. Each prediction was more terrifying than the last.

  But I can stop this one, I decided. I can stop it from happening.

  Can’t I?

  “Hey, Shawn, want to walk home with me after the basketball game?”

  A cheer rang out as the Ravens scored. They were winning 35 to 25. Once again, the diary was right on target. I was about to win forty dollars from my friends.

  “I can’t. I rode my bike,” he replied. He scratched his red hair, frowning. “I’ve got to stop making bets with you, Alex. You win every bet. I don’t know how you do it. I’m totally broke.”

  “Just a lucky streak,” I said, forcing myself not to grin. “Listen, leave your bike. You can get it tomorrow. Come to my house for dinner.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. It’s going to rain. I want to get home fast.”

  “But—but—”

  The final buzzer drowned out my protests.

  I can’t stop him from riding his bike, I realized. But I can stop him from having an accident.

  I’ll run along beside him. I’ll make sure he pays attention and watches where he’s going.

  I can stop this accident from happening. I will stop it!

  “Here’s your five bucks,” a kid grumbled. He shoved a five-dollar bill into my hand. “You’re too lucky, Alex.”

  Two other guys each counted out five singles and handed them over to me. “Hey—double or nothing next time!” I shouted happily.

  I collected all my winnings. Then I carefully counted the money to make sure I had it all. “Thirty-eight … thirty-nine … forty. Yes!”

  If I kept winning like this, I’d soon have enough money to buy a new guitar!

  I turned to Shawn. “Hey—”

  He was gone. I thought he was standing right beside me.

  The gym was emptying out slowly. I pushed my way desperately through the crowd and squeezed out the door. Some girls down the hall called to me, but I didn’t turn around. I had to find Shawn.

  I pushed open the back doors of the school building and burst onto the parking lot. It was a dark, damp evening. Black storm clouds spread over the sky. I felt a few cold drops of rain on my forehead.

  “Shawn—?”

  I spotted him on his bike, pedaling hard, speeding away from the bike rack.

  “Shawn—stop!” I shouted, waving both arms. I took off, running after him.

  I saw Tessa at the bike rack with two other girls. She looked up as I ran past. “Alex—what’s up?”

  I didn’t slow down. I chased after Shawn, waving my arms frantically, shouting his name. “Stop! Hey—stop!”

  He didn’t hear me. He rolled down Park Street, picking up speed.

  Rain began to patter down. I tried to run faster, ignoring the ache in my side.

  “Shawn! Stop! Hey—Shawn!” I screamed.

  Finally, he heard me.

  He turned around.

  “Stop!” I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Stop!”

  He stared at me. He didn’t see the large yellow moving van parked at the curb.

  “Noooooo!”

  My scream was too late.

  His bike smashed into the broad back of the truck. I heard a sick crunch of metal. Then I heard Shawn’s shrill cry.

  The crash threw him into the air. His hands flew straight up. He smacked the back of the truck. Bounced off. Hit the pavement, landing on his side.

  And didn’t move.

  I stood frozen in the middle of the street, staring in horror, my hands still cupped around my mouth.

  My fault, I thought.

  Then I heard a voice shouting. A familiar voice.

  And I saw Tessa running along the curb, her blond hair flying behind her. She dropped down on the pavement beside Shawn.

  “Alex—” she called. “Don’t just stand there! Go get help! Get to a phone! Call for help! Hurry!”

  Her cries broke through my thoughts. I shook myself alert and started to run up the driveway of the nearest house. They’ll let me use the phone, I told myself. I’ll call 911.

  But as I ran up the drive, the same thought kept repeating in my mind.

  My fault.

  The accident was my fault. If I hadn’t been there, Shawn wouldn’t have turned around. If I hadn’t been there, he’d be okay right now.

  My fault …

  The diary’s fault …

  I have to get rid of that diary, I decided. I have to get rid of it and never read another entry.

  But will that help?

  Will the horrible things stop happening to my friends and me?

  After dinner, I sat at my desk, staring at the diary. I held it between my hands, rubbing my fingers over the smooth black leather cover. I felt a chill of fear.

  I’m not going to read another entry, I vowed.

  How many frightening things had happened since I’d found the diary? I ran through them again in my mind. I was hit by a car … jumped off the school roof … and now Shawn was lying in the hospital with a badly broken leg.

  I squeezed the little book tightly. My hands were sweating. They left wet fingerprints on the leather.

  Can I really just toss this amazing book away? I asked myself. What about all the bets I’ve been winning?

  The Ravens have four more basketball games to play. If I keep winning, I’ll have more than enough for a new guitar. I’ll be able to buy that Fender Strat I’ve been wanting for years!

  No. Forget about that, Alex, I told myself. Give up betting. Give it up before it’s too late.

  Be smart. Get rid of the diary. Throw it away.

  But what if that doesn’t help? I asked myself. The question sent a chill down my back.

  What makes you think that all these frightening things will end just because you don’t read the diary’s predictions?

  I stared hard at the book. It appeared to glow like a black jewel in my hands.

  My hands trembled. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself. I started to open the cover.

  I heard a cough.

  I dropped the book and glanced up. “Tessa—?”

  She stepped into my room. Her blond hair was brushed straight back, tied with a bright blue Scrunchie. Her green eyes locked on mine.

  “What’s going on, Alex?” she demanded. She walked up to my desk and crossed her arms in front of her.

  “Excuse me? What do you mean?” I slid open the desk drawer and shoved the diary inside.

  “I watched you this afternoon,” Tessa said. “And I know there’s something weird going on.”

  I crossed my arms too. “The only weird thing going on is you bursting into my room all the time,” I said.

  “Why did you run after Shawn like that?” she demanded. “Why did you shout like that?”

  “Uh … well …” I couldn’t think of a good answer.

  “You knew he was going to crash,” Tessa said. “That’s why you were trying to stop him.”

  “No way—!” I cried.

  “Yes, I watched you,” she insisted. “How did you know he was going to crash?”

  “I—I didn’t,” I told her.

  Tessa wouldn’t stop asking questions. “Why have you been acting so weird, Alex? I heard about you jumping off the roof at school. Why did you do that?”

  “It was no big deal,” I said.

  She stared at me for a long time. “I have an idea,” she said finally. “Remember, you wanted to share diaries. You read mine, and I read yours. Well, okay. Let’s try it. Let
me see your diary and—”

  “NO!” I shouted. I jumped up from my desk and turned to block her way to the desk drawer. “Forget it, Tessa. I’m not sharing. I don’t know why you came over here to spy on me. But I’m—”

  Her expression changed. She looked really hurt. “I’m not spying on you, Alex,” she whispered. “I’m just … worried about you. I mean, now that I’m in your band, I thought … I thought maybe we’d be friends.”

  “Friends?” My voice cracked on the word. “Well … I don’t know …”

  Now she looked even more hurt. Her red, heart-shaped lips were pushed forward in a sad pout. She sighed. “When is the band going to rehearse? Uncle Jon says the garage is all ready for us.”

  I was glad she had decided to change the subject. “Let’s see if everyone can get together Friday night,” I said.

  A few minutes later, she was gone.

  I made sure I heard the front door close behind her. Then I pulled the diary from its hiding place in the desk drawer.

  “I’m not sharing you with anyone!” I told it.

  I knew I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t help myself. I flipped quickly through the pages. Yes. A new entry, an entry for tomorrow:

  DEAR DIARY,

  What a wild day! Unbelievable!

  When the driver got off the school bus for a few minutes, I took over the wheel. Do you believe it? I drove the bus! I raced it halfway across town.

  Kids were crying and screaming. But what a thrill!

  That is totally insane! I told myself.

  I read the entry again. Then I burst out laughing.

  Why would I do such a crazy thing?

  Take over the school bus and drive it across town?

  I would never do anything like that. This time, the diary is completely off. Completely wrong.

  Besides, Mom picks me up on Thursdays. I don’t even ride the school bus tomorrow. So it can’t happen. It can’t.

  “Alex, are you up there?”

  I heard Mom’s shout from the stairs. “Yes? What is it?” I called.

  “I can’t pick you up after school tomorrow. I have an appointment. You’ll have to take the school bus.”

  After school the next day, I walked to the back of the school bus and plopped down in the very last seat. I fastened the seat belt as tight as I could. And I gripped the arms of the seat.