note: yet another one shot. just haven't had much time to ponder another long one, so enjoy. and I seriously think I have a thing for Phoebe keeping diaries. seriously.
the musings of miss terese
by, the ultimateSora
Arnold walked across the stone pathway leading to the Tereses' front door from the driveway. He rang the bell, and a smiling Mrs. Terese opened the door.
"Well, hey there, Arnold."
"Hi, Mrs. Terese. Is Phoebe home?" He held up a small stack of papers he had in his hand. "I have her physics and history homework, since she wasn't in class today."
Mrs. Terese motioned for him to come in. "No, she's not. She's at volleyball practice." She shook her head. "You know, she just had her appointment with physical therapy today, and yet, she still went to practice."
Arnold smiled. "That's our Phoebe."
"Well, you can take her work up to her room. It's the one on the right when you get to the hall." She gestured up the stairs.
He nodded and went up. "Okay, I'll do that."
Arnold thought their house smelled nice, kinda like vanilla and sugar, and then he laughed to himself at his random thought. He went up to the upstairs den and walked to the hall, turning right to the closed bedroom door that had a red, wooden "P" hanging on it. In the years he had known her, he had never once actually been in her room. He opened the door, and he smiled at the almost OCD cleanliness of it. The room just screamed "PHOEBE TERESE".
Her laptop was open on her desk, the screensaver showing random pictures of her and the girls (Keesha, Wanda, and Dorothy Ann). There were some framed photos on the desk, and there were more pictures on the bulletin board (which had her name written on it in girly block letters) above the desk.
He was surprised to see that many of them were of him and her, and he was also surprised at how he thought they didn't look half bad together. The walls were decorated with framed posters of vintage French wine advertisements from the turn of the century and before, and they were all perfectly aligned. Her dresser had trophies from volleyball and band, and there were more framed photos.
Arnold went closer to the desk to put her homework down, and he noticed a small, leather-bound notebook sitting there. It had her initials "P.M.T." ("M" for "Mischa", which was her great-grandfather's name) engraved on it, and he noticed there wasn't a lock on it. Arnold knew himself to be curious, but he also knew he shouldn't look at his friend's possible diary.
Maybe it wasn't a diary. Maybe it was just a personalized notebook. Maybe it was just doodles and random stuff she did when she was bored. Maybe she pressed flowers in it or whatever it was girls did. Arnold felt the curiosity nearly explode from his stomach, and he grabbed it. Before he realized what he was doing, he was reading it.
He looked over at me again today. I knew I was blushing, and I hope HE didn't notice. Oh, he's so cute. I just wish I had the ovaries to tell him how I felt. Hehe, I'm sounding like Wanda now.
Arnold cocked an eyebrow. Who was this "he"? Phoebe liked someone and never mentioned it? He turned to another page. He found himself enjoying the musings of one Miss Terese.
Have I mentioned how good he really smells? Whatever cologne it is, it makes him smell delicious ("delicious", Arnold thought disgustedly to himself). I've known him for so long that you would think I'd be able to tell him I'm madly, crazy in-love with him, but I'm a social retard. I really am, hehe. Oh, well, what can you do?
Arnold flipped around to see if she mentioned a name. She didn't. "You're a crafty one, Terese," he said under his breath. He flipped to another random page.
Tonight's the first night of Hanukkah (Did I spell that right?) I gave Arnold a gift. I hope he liked it. He said that it was cool and he look liked he meant it, but I'm so paranoid about that sort of thing. I got him an actual record of The Clash's "London Calling". Not a CD, a record. Of course, I didn't tell him HOW I got it or how hard it was. I just hope he liked it.
Arnold remembered that gift, but he hadn't just said it was cool. He almost had a heart attack from excitement. He was pretty sure he was jumping up and down and hugging her like there was no tomorrow when he opened his gift from her. He turned to another page, feeling an almost perverse satisfaction as he read the words in her neat, girly handwriting.
Happy 16th birthday to me! I hate being the youngest of the Elitist Eight, as Keesha enjoys calling us, honestly. Wanda's the oldest with her August birthday. I'm April. No es bueno. Arnold's February 9th. He's the only one I know the actual date of, hehe. I just know everyone's birth month (W- August; T- October; R, DA, and C- November; K- December; A- Feb. 9th, and then me, April 13). Is it sad that I am now just realizing that Arnold and I are the only two born after January?
Arnold was lost in her words. He flipped around some more to see if she would mention who it was she liked.
Arnold just turned 17 today. He looked so cute when I gave him his gift (a collage of pictures of the women of Sex and the City). Honestly, I think they look a little old, but he likes them, especially the one that plays Charlotte. He said I kinda looked like her. That made me laugh.
I saw him walking by today. I swear, I want to melt when he smiles, and he did smile, and I wanted to melt. Wanda said I just need to tell him, DA said wait to drop the bomb, Keesha said I've waited to long, and I need to get it over with. Sometimes in class, I just doodle our names together or my name if we were married...Mrs. Phoebe Pe--
Arnold didn't finish because he heard the bedroom door open, and he jumped to his feet when he saw who was standing there. Phoebe, slightly sweaty in her practice clothes, stood there in shock, and he quickly tossed the diary onto her bed. He was at a loss for words as he looked back at her. He felt his stomach flip when he noticed he could see all of her round facial features when her auburn hair was pulled back. Phoebe dropped her duffel bag, and her whole face and neck were beet red.
"What did you read?" Phoebe quickly asked.
Arnold felt himself flush. "N-nothing. Nothing. Just...um...your birthday..."
Phoebe groaned and covered her face in her hands. "Oh, you read other stuff, didn't you!"
"What?" He shook his head and held his hands up. "No! No! Of course I didn't! Just...nothing! No!"
"You didn't read March sixth, did you?" she asked, looking up at him, her hands now lowered from her face.
Arnold cocked an eyebrow, feeling confused. "I-I-I don't...don't think so."
Phoebe quickly pushed past him and grabbed the small book, her face still red. She looked down, trying to avoid his gaze. "I think you should go," she said quietly.
He bit his lip and nodded. When he shut the door behind him, Phoebe sat down at her desk and opened her diary.
7:45 AM: I'm going to tell Arnold that I'm in love with him today. I have to. I know I do. I'm just going to swallow my fears, walk up to him and say, "Arnold Brandon Perlstein, I am freaking in love with you". Okay, I'm off to school.
3:12 PM: Damn, he wasn't at school today.
Your diary/It's open and inviting me back - Franz Ferdinand's "Your Diary"
Yeah, so like I said, this was a one-shot, so um, no more.