Christopher's Diary: Secrets of Foxworth

“Just kidding, Kane. Yes, I’d like that.”

He nodded. “I was right about you. You’re different.” He took my hand and led me out to the garage. He opened the car door for me and got in. We backed out and started down the long driveway.

Maybe I was different, I thought. Maybe that was why I was so fascinated with Christopher’s diary. I thought too much. I analyzed everything and was always afraid my fantasizing would make me too vulnerable. I was not willing to forgive people, especially boys, their little faults, their small dishonesties. Was that good, or would I end up alone in some room as despondent as Christopher in the attic?

Dad was happy I didn’t stay out too late. Despite how subtle he wanted to be about it, he stayed up waiting for me, most likely watching the clock and pretending to be so interested in what he was watching on television that he couldn’t go to bed.

“Have a good time?” he asked as soon as I stepped into the living room. I was sure if I asked him what he was watching and what had just happened, he wouldn’t know.

“Yes, very.”

“Quite a house, eh?”

“That and then some,” I said, which was another of his responses to questions like that.

He laughed. “Everyone behave?”

“Wouldn’t be a party if everyone did, but actually, yes. Kane saw to that,” I said.

“Good.”

“Unfortunately, some thought not being raucous was boring,” I added, “and they left early.”

“Oh. But not you?”

“I had more reason to stay,” I said, and he laughed.

“Oh? Care to elaborate a bit?”

“No,” I said, and he laughed again. “I’m going up,” I told him.

“Just want to see the end of this,” he said, nodding at the television.

I gave him a kiss and left him pretending to know what he was watching.

I had told myself I would avoid reading the diary before I went to sleep tonight. I should have been too tired. I was tired, but I was also restless. Kane’s telling me about his sister witnessing the second fire and some of the comments his parents had made about it and the first fire had stirred up so many different feelings that I felt my nerves were like sparklers.

I slipped my hand under my pillow and brought out the diary. Before I turned the page, I listened to my father’s footsteps. He lumbered along to his bedroom, and the lights in the hallway dimmed.

Now it was just the Dollanganger children and me again.

It was clear now that we’d be locked up here until our grandfather died. Cathy was more despondent than ever. I had my work cut out for me: how to keep her spirits and the twins’ spirits up, how to keep them all occupied. Cathy wasn’t stupid. She would spot insincerity very quickly. But I had another ability that came in very handy now. I could will myself to believe in something. I wasn’t like other people who fool themselves or lie to themselves. I knew how to dress up something I doubted so that I looked convinced about it, but I had something people who lie to themselves don’t have. I knew what I was doing. I knew the truth, and I could retreat to it whenever I wanted to or had to. Maybe that sounds arrogant, but to me, it’s just a statement of fact.

“He could live forever,” Cathy moaned almost immediately. “We’re doomed, Christopher. No one else knows we’re up here. All of my friends are probably calling each other for news, and maybe some of them are asking their parents to call the police! I hope they do. I hope there’s a nationwide search for us, and our pictures are put on post office walls. People locked up like this go mad and even shrink. I read it in a magazine.”

“Stop the dramatics,” I told her in our father’s most assertive voice. Her eyes widened. “It’s not going to be anywhere near that bad. Our grandfather is suffering from heart disease. That means his arteries are blocked with something called plaque. If—not if, I should say when—a piece of that breaks free, he’ll have a heart attack and die on the spot. We’re so far away from the city that by the time the ambulance arrives, he’ll be long gone.”

“He has a nurse around the clock. He’s rich. Maybe he has an ambulance parked out front all the time.”

“Nurses aren’t doctors, and they can’t possibly have all the life-saving machinery hospitals have, Cathy, no matter how rich he is. The man is in critical condition. It’s classic intensive care. He should be in a hospital. He obviously wants to die at home. He knows himself that he hasn’t got long to go.”

She looked at me askance.

“Think about it,” I added even more strongly. “If Grandmother Olivia didn’t believe it herself, she wouldn’t have permitted us to come here in the first place. You see the way she treats Momma. She doesn’t have much faith in Momma’s ability to win back her father’s love. His death is the only thing that makes sense. It’s impending.”

She squinted.

“Impending, imminent, can happen any time.”