Jed's Story *title suggestions welcome!*

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January 2nd, 2013

I’ve almost flipped my sleep schedule. Really, I have. It’s just been awful and I’m tired all the time.

I think I’m starting to get used to how things are here. Even Kevin being a little butthole is starting to seem normal. What happened to that kid to make him this way? Are some people really just born like that? I don’t know.

Everyone in this house just has to have a crazy story, I know it. The writer in me has to know. WHAT ARE THEIR STORIES???

The problem is, they won’t tell. Maybe I haven’t been here long enough. Maybe they’ll never tell. I don’t know. I’ve asked a couple times in the last two days, and the answer is always “No” or “Not now.” What they don’t do is act like I never spoke in the first place, and that makes everything a little more okay than it’s been in a while.

Today Cameron asked me if I liked history, and I said I did, so he and Terin started giving me books to read. It’s nice to have people to talk to that are actually interested in cool things. Kevin, Annelies, and Jerico wait for Mrs. Parker to do school with them after dinner and only do “homework” when she assigns it, but Terin and Cameron are different. I don’t even think Mrs. Parker teaches them anymore.

They seem starved for knowledge. They’re almost always reading books or articles or watching documentaries or playing games related to what they’re learning. It’s cool, but I think I read a lot more fiction than they do. I like history, but it’s not my life, you know?

Cameron apparently sings and plays piano, but the only evidence I’ve seen of that so far is that there is some music in the piano bench. I’ve never seen him sit there, and I’ve never heard him so much as hum. Terin, on the other hand, is the one who painted all of those pictures. He let me go in and see them, but he hasn’t let me see his sketchbook or anything else. I’m just glad that he let me see the paintings, because I was really curious.

They’re beautiful, by the way.

I asked him if the painting above his parents’ bed was his, and he said it was. Someday I want to ask him if he’ll paint something for me to put above my air mattress.

Seeing Cameron and Terin do all this learning and hearing about their respective arts made me realize that I have more time to read and write her more than I ever have. Maybe I’ll finally start the novel I’ve been planning in my story notebook for a year. (Of course I brought my story notebook with me. I couldn’t leave it at home where my family would possibly burn it.)

Someday, I’m going to look back at this time in my life and know that it was the jumpstart to my writing career.

Too bad I’ll have to lie about it.

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