My Week

Claire Viola is moving to Brimloch. This is very much against her intentions which was to stay in Edinburgh until she'd finished EDINBURGH'S secondry school. Not move to Brimloch start a new school in a new town where she had no friends. Well, she hasn't started secondry school yet.

But when she finds a diary by a girl who used to live in her room, she finds herself willing the summer holidays to strech, so she can find out what happened to a young lad called John.


1. Goodbyes and Hellos

I sat in my room and looked about the bare walls. My room. It didn't look it any more. Tears glistened in my eyes, as I now stood looking for the last time. "CLAIRE!" I scowled. Trust my parents to ruin the theatrical moment. I stomped down, a look of pure despair on my pale face. They didn't buy it. "Come ON Claire" This was my brother Jake. He's 14, 2 years older than me. He was probably anxious to see what the girls where like at the new place. "Alright, I'll hurry up! When we get to Grimrock I'll skip around like a cheesy hyperactive elf!" I said with great sarcasm. I fought back a smirk. Everyone sighed. 1 point to me.

Brimrock was a small grey village. It had a farm, hotel, 2 reasturants, pharmacy, post office and a pub. Oh,and a library with ajoined gift shop. Mum and Dad and Jake all have this dreamy look on their faces. I have one of disgust. Mind you its all logicaly built in a nice square. This is including the houses. Minus the farm. And its all sensible grey houses and slate roofs. Brightly coloured doors and flower boxes at windows. It was all right. Litter-free. All right I liked it. Don't think I'll do the dreamy look though! But I'll change my expresssion to slight approval. We drew up to a house with a orange door and empty window boxes. Pause. Description time. We all have black hair and green eyes. Its run for 3 generations. Play. We got out. My heart thudded. There was a note on the door. It was adressed to the Violas, written in beautiful copperplate. Dad read it, eyebrow raised. He stuffed it in his pocket and lifted a WELCOME mat I'd just noticed. "Here's the key! The letter just told me where it was and to enjoy our new life in Brimloch!" Oh great. Soon we'd be constantly visited by overly cheery neighbors with cookies. On the cookie note actually, their very welcome.

It wasn't dusty. It wasn't inhabited by a witch. It was clean. It was oak floor and black furniture. It was a shiny black kitchen top, with new plates and mugs stacked neatly. The bedrooms were basic but comftable, the sheets crackly and freshly made. The bathroom was white and black, every wall in the house a Artic white. It was perfect. We settled in and Jake and me sorted out our rooms the traditional way. It involved a massive argument. Jake won the bigger single bedroom by spooking me with a spider. I put my clothes in the white wardrobe and draws. I put my toiletries in the bathroom. I went back to my room stomping as I passed Jake's. Already he had his music player on. He didn't hear me. I walked to my white silled window. It had a view of a tree and few other houses. Then I thought of something. My diary! Give Jake a chance to find it he'd be reading through all my personal thoughts. He already knew I sometimes hid it under my matress. There was nowhere to put it. I started pacing. Then I hit it. Literally. My foot hit a lose floorboard. I bent down. I could lift it up. But what I saw was something of a shock. I clearly wasn't the first to hide my diary under the floorboard.

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