Write a poem or short story about a diary entry you’ve read or imagined.

London nervously bounced her knees up and down under the dining table. Mom and Dad were chatting, cheerily as they laid out tonight's meal in front of her and her siblings. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. 

She looked over at her sister, Brooklyn, who was biting her nails and scrolling through Snapchat. Their brother, Austin, was blatantly staring at whatever she had up on her screen. She didn't seem to mind. She looked content, normal, albeit a little bored.

She didn't look like someone who drunkenly ran over someone and covered it up with the help of her friends.

London wasn't even supposed to know, but she was feeling a bit sad and miffed that once her sister started high school, she completely forgot about her. London was stuck in middle school, feeling like a lonely little kid because her best friend was her sister. Not anymore, she surmised. 

When Brooklyn was out with her friends at the mall the other day, London decided to snoop to see what was going on in her life. Brooklyn barely even talked or looked at her anymore. It wasn't right! At least that's what London told herself so she wouldn't feel guilty as she carefully picked through the scattered pieces of her sister's life in her messy bedroom.

When she found the diary, she was a little surprised. Who keeps a physical diary anymore? Blog or tweet or create a fake Instagram like any normal person! Of course the damn thing had a lock on it, but it was super easy to pick. 

All she wanted was to be let back into her sister's confidence again, she missed her so much. But she got way more than she bargained for. Apparently her sister had already lost her virginity and vaped "like all the fucking time" with her new friends and boyfriend, a boyfriend their parents didn't know about!

She even wrote about London a couple times. Nothing nice, of course, which infuriated her. She wanted to throw this stupid diary in her face and tell their parents about her secret boo. In the midst of her anger, she saw a glued-shut pocket in the back of the diary. She pried it open and found a photo.

The photo was of Brooklyn and three of her friends standing over a crumpled body. On the back of the photo, Brooklyn only wrote one word, "Insurance." London quickly deduced what the picture meant and hastily stuffed it back in its pocket. She relocked the diary and put it back where she found it.

That was two days ago. London had been watching Brooklyn very closely, to try and see if she could spot any strange behavior but she seemed normal.

How could anyone be normal after running someone over and hiding it??? And they so obviously covered it up. There was nothing on the news in the past month about someone getting hit by a drunk driver or any driver at all. Was the person dead? What did they do with the body? Who was driving? How could they all live with this secret?

London must've been staring too intently because Brooklyn abruptly said, "What the fuck are you looking at, you creep?"

London tensed with annoyance. She wanted to say, "A murderer," instead she just looked down at her own phone. She realized she didn't really miss her sister anymore.