A/N: Aloha! Yes, I'm back! After over a year since I first posted Dear Diary, the sequel is ready to be read by human eyes. I worked hard on this so I hope you guys love it! Also, once I finish 'Shadows' I'll post the multi-chapter story that I spent the last five months writing, 'Rantings of the Only Girl'. Now get to reading!

I didn't really want a wooden floor. I didn't really want white walls either. I only said I did. I really wanted bright blue walls and an orange shag carpet. I've got to hand it to myself. I am good at telling lies. Anyway, I suppose a wooden floor wouldn't be too bad. I can move my furniture around without collapsing from exhaustion. And I can always just cover the white walls with my posters. No one would ever guess they were the most boring wall color on earth.

We hadn't done anything to my room since I was three. That explains why my old carpet was pink. Well, it was supposed to be pink. It was covered in Scooter's dog hair, spilled sparkly nail polish, colored glue, and ink from pens and markers I'd left on the floor. It was more of a rainbow, 60's style carpet.

I had a sticker collection up until I was about six. You know all those sticker machines at diners and roller rinks that you put a quarter in and you get some metallic smiley face or peace sign? I lived off of those. I would save up all my quarters for those stickers. I also always, always, always got stickers with my birthday presents. They where mostly the cheapy kind on rolls you buy for 75 cents at fabric stores. They were usually sets, like farm animals or party decorations. They always came taped to the outside of the box or gift bag with a note saying something like,

For your sticker collection! Hope you have fun with them!
Love, Your deranged relative who has no idea these will end up stuck to your walls due to the manipulation of your evil cousin Lisa and ultimately send your mother and step-father into a fit of rage, prompting them to ban all objects from your room except for furniture, clothes, and stuffed animals.

4,211 stickers where stuck to my walls, bed, and dresser that day. It was the first of many demonic tendencies from Alyssa. "It will look cool!" she said. "I do it all the time. Everyone will love it, trust me!"

She said a lot of things that day. Things like, "I didn't want to do it, Auntie Joanne! Skye made me! She told me it would make her room look better than the way you decorated it. I thought I looked beautiful already, but Skye kept saying it was yucky."

A new legacy was born.

Before, my trust/responsibility level with my parents was about at a four. Out of one hundred. I figure I'd need at least an eighty-five for a car. I also figure that it will take at least three years to get to an eighty-five. I also summoned up my strongest figuring powers and figured I should start now. That's why I put my last bit of figuring to work

and figured that I should pay for half of my own car, which will probably be the case anyway. The only way I won't get a clunker is to ask for money for my birthdays and Christmas every year until I can afford half of something decent. The other half is up to my rents.

I first knew my mom wanted me to get a wood floor when Rick was ripping out my old carpet and she said something like, "Well, maybe this time you wont get so many stains on it."

This one caught me by surprise so I wasn't too prepared. I was about to say I wouldn't dare deface my orange shag carpet, but something inside me kept saying "Car, car, car, Skye, FOCUS!" Luckily, I said something like, "Hm… I think I'd like hard-wood flooring this time."

And Bingo was his name-o.

A few days later when Rick asked me what color I wanted to paint my room, my shields where up and I was prepared. I had heard the rents complaining about how hard it would be to paint over bright blue walls once I go off to college. My counter-attack was about like, "Well, don't you think white walls would be a lot easier to paint over once I go to college?"

Can you say Bull's-eye?

So there you have it. Bing, bang, boom. My trust/responsibility level was up to nine. Nine down, seventy-six more to go. I think. It's seventy-six, right? Hey, have I ever claimed to be a whiz in math? I don't think so.

Anywhoo, it's been a week since summer started. A week since the end of school. A week since we started ripping my room apart. A week since I realized I'd have to wait until I move out to have my dream room the way I want it. A week since… um… the incident. Also, it's been a week since I first heard that Michaels parents, Ryan's mom, Serena's parents, and my mom and step-paternal figure, all banded together and decided that us young'ins are going to spend at least half of our oh-so valuable summer at Camp Dowagiac (pronounced Dow-wah-jee-ack). Is that not the cheesiest thing you've ever heard?

Besides everything I've already listed, it's been a week since I've spoken to Ryan and a week since the phone call with Serena. I suppose you're not surprised. I also suppose that you need to get the hell out of my diary before I hunt you down evil invader of privacy! Unless this is me reading my diary. In that case, hello me, you are looking fabulous today!

Anyway, Right after, ehem, the incident, I called Serena, since she had already gone home to take her first seven hour nap of the summer. Here's what I can remember of the phone call.


A groggy Serena: Who ever this is, I hate you.

Me: I have to talk to you.

Serena: ……. I'm sleeping.

Me: Its five o'clock.

Serena: Summer nap. Duh, loser.

Me: Oh. Well, can't it wait?!

Serena: I suppose it's gonna have to.

Me: Am I on speaker phone? Take me off.

Phone: A sort of sarcastic 'beep'.

Serena: Ok, what?

Me: We have a little problem.

Serena: How little? If it's so little, why did you wake me up?

Me: This is serious! Ok, y'know how you left before me and the guys from the park?

Serena: Uh-huh.

Me: Well Michael left a little after you. It was just me, Ryan, and twelve cans of Mt. Dew. We kind of just walked around for a while until there where only three cans left. I don't know why but I just sort of pointed out that is was summer, like neither of us had ever noticed it. So I'm like, "So, it's summer!" Then Ryan yelled "Yeah! It IS summer!" pretty loud. There was no one around since, after all, it's Pettit park, so, four and a half Mountain Dews swimming around in my blood stream, I just kind of went crazy and yelled "Wohoo!" at the top of my lungs. Before you know it, the park is filled with me and Ryan's yells of enthusiasm while we're running around like maniacs. So there I was, and there he was, and he just… kind of, um…

Serena: What? He kind of what?

Me: Well, uh, grabbed my shoulders and… he frickin' kissed me.


Me: Serena?



Serena: … Oh … My… God.

Me: Is that a good 'oh my god' or a bad 'oh my god'? … Serena?

All of a sudden some high pitched squeal comes from the other end of the phone.

Me: Serena, are you ok? Serena?!

Serena: OhmygodIalwaysknewthiswouldhappenyoutwoaresocutetogetherandthisisjustsototallyperfectohmygodSkyethisisgreat!!!

Me: … What? Are you insane? This is not great! This is terrible!

Serena: (catching her breath) Why?

Me: He's Ryan! Ryan isn't the boyfriend! Ryan is the guy who gave my guinea pig a funeral after I forgot to feed it! Ryan is the guy who guzzled a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper for a drinking game at my birthday party and belched Yankee Doodle! Ryan is the guy I had sleepovers with when I was six and Ryan is the guy who taught me how to play Iron Man with my toes! The boyfriend is the guy who always has great hair and buys you flowers and has never seen you in your Speed Racer pajamas! Ryan is not boyfriend material!

Serena: I'm sorry, didn't catch that. What?

Me: URGGHH!!!!

Serena: I'm kidding! Jeeze, have a cow. Look, maybe it was just… and accident. Maybe he was just too high on Dew to realize what he was doing. He is a teenage male, you know.

Me: An… accident? (this kind of made me feel worse, actually)

Serena: Yes. An accident. What did you do after he kissed you? Did he say anything?

Me: Um… Well, after he kissed me I just kind of stared at him for a second. He looked bluzzy.

Serena: Bluzzy?

Me: Yes. Um, no. I meant to say fuzzy and blurry but I said Bluzzy. Get over it. Anyway, I told him I had to go and hopped on my bike and left.

Serena: That's it? You just left? Just like that?

Me: … Yeah. I wasn't sure of what happened until I was riding home.

Serena: What did Ryan do?

This was a tough one. I couldn't really tell. He friggin looked bluzzy. What was I supposed to tell her? That he just stared back at me? That would be lying. In actuality, he had a bluzzy smile on his face. Until I peddled away, that is.

Me: I don't remember. He just kind of… stood there.

Serena: Maybe he just went perverted like all the other guys in our grade. His testosterone probably took over. Like I said, he is a teenage male.

Me: Well what do you suggest I do? Or think?

Serena: I suggest you think whatever you want to think. Things are definitely going to be weird with you two. I say see what he does. If he pretends like nothing happened, pretend like nothing happened. Or, I could talk to him for you if you wa-

Me: NO!

Serena: Ok, ok, sheesh. Freak out. Why don't you call Michael? If Ryan thought anything of it, which, knowing Ryan, I would assume he did, he probably told Michael.

Me: Ok, good idea.

Serena: And then I suggest you come over and we can discuss this Camp Dowagiac thing and what we're going to do with our remaining summer.

Me: You heard about that too?

Serena: Oh yes. So… your first kiss, huh?

Me: Yeah. Unless you count Joseph Mellopolis at the Highland High football game.

Serena: Oh! Forgot about that one. Or unless you count my brother during that spin the bottle game last-

Me: We agreed never to speak of that again! And I don't think Joseph counts. He had the worst breath, I swear.

Serena: Good point. Speaking of poor hygiene, Ben needs to use the phone. See you in an hour.

Me: See ya.


Incase you thought my phone bill wasn't high enough, I called Michael.


Beep! Hello, you've reached the DeVrise residence. If you are a client looking to set up an appointment with Ronald DeVrise, please press 1. If you have a question or complaint, please press 2. If this is a personal or business call for Ronald, please press 3. If this is a personal call for Jill DeVrise, please press 4. If this is a personal call for Michael DeVrise, please press 5.

I pressed five.

Phone: You have reached Michael DeVrise's personal line. Please wait to be connected.


Michael's answering machine: Howdy do, person who's calling me! I'm probably not here, or I'm here, I just don't want to talk to you, so talk to the machine, babe. Mmm Hmm!

Me: Michael, you loser, pick up! I know you're there and I need to talk to you. Get off your butt, put the controller down, and pick up the phone!

Michael: Ok, god. I was a level four Skye, you suck.

Me: I know. Umm… Have you heard about the camp Dowagiac thing?

Michael: Yeah. Bummer.

Me: Uh-huh. So… um… (I heard him take a swig of something) Has Ryan called you?

Michael: (choking on his swig of something) W- why (cough) would Ryan (cough, cough) c- call me?

Me: Uh… just wondering. You know… if he's heard about Camp or… whatever.

Michael: (coughsputter) Oh. Ehem, hem, s'cuse me, I've got itchy (clearing his throat) tonsils, or something. That's it? That's all you want to know?

Me: Well actually I-

Michael: Ok, good then. Honk at you later Skyeapolooza.

Phone: Click. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.


I hung up and headed over to Serena's about an hour later. It took me about three minutes to walk there and ten minutes to explain to her my phone call with Michael. She didn't understand the significance of him hanging up so fast (there IS significance, right?).

"So, was he late for an appointment or something?" Serena said in a very blonde-like manner while watering the bamboo plant Alvin gave her.

I plopped myself down on her un-wrinkled, perfect, baby blue bed. "He was on level four, Serena."

"So? He could have been. It doesn't mean anything. Get off my bed."

I quickly got up with a roll of my eyes and smoothed out the creases I had made in her neatly folded comforter. Just then Ben came in Serena's room and tossed a bad of pistachios at Serena and tossed his keys at me. I caught them.

"What're you gal's chit chatting about?" He asked, putting his hands in his pockets. Serena answered first before I could say "nothing".

"Ryan kissed Skye."

"Serena!" I squeaked. "This is not supposed to be a public thing!"

"Aww!" Ben whined while swinging and arm around my shoulders. "I thought I was the only man in your life, Skye-pie!"

"Sorry Benjamin, but you've been replaced." Said Serena, casually as if me and Ryan where practically married.

"Look" I said, sternly, "I don't even know if he thought, I mean I'm not sure if I, I mean… ugh! Me and Ryan aren't 'together'. It didn't mean anything. I don't think."

I starred at the floor.

"Well I know what will make you feel better!" Exclaimed Ben as he lifted my hand with his keys in it up. "A driving lesson!"

"Nah." I droned. "I'm not feeling up to it right now."

Ben smiled. "Good, because I need to meet the guys in ten. We're crashing some chick's party. It's gonna be awesome. Talk to you gals later!"

Serena shook her head. "The guy turns sixteen and suddenly he's Mister I-crash-college-parties."

"Doesn't he?"

"Psh, no. He's probably going to hand out in the convenience store parking lot with his buddies and try to look old enough to get a six pack of beer."

"Hm." I nodded my head.

A/N: Ah, the first chapter is always the easiest to write. Now if you want the next Chapter you had bette review! Seeing as how I only got ONE, that's right, ONE, review on the last chapter of Dear Diary.