Take My Word for It by John Marsden

it.
    J UNE 26
    Handed in what I could of the Crusades assignment. I did two essays over the weekend and one of the maps again and some of the pictures, so in the end I still had a lot less than half. I don’t know what’ll happen about my mark. Apparently two other people got theirs ripped off too. Dr Whiteley came into our Morning Assembly and made a speech about how disgusting it was and how she wants them returned. Maybe they will be, but I doubt it.
    At least I’ve got plenty of witnesses to the work I did.
    J UNE 27
    It’s a madhouse here again tonight folks. K, S and T have been busted wide open for last weekend’s illegal. Every five minutes another message comes for one of them to go see Mrs Graham, while the other two sit here white-faced. They think they’ll be expelled, and I guess there is a chance of that. They are crazy. They play with hand grenades all year long and then they’re upset when one of them finally goes off. But they’re still getting the giggles every few minutes, even now. What a bunch.
    Mrs Graham’s interrogation technique is to keep calling you in one by one and checking the stories against each other till she finds a contradiction. Then she goes for the throat. She takes notes while you answer, which helps put you off more. Also she bluffs a lot. Last year there was a ginormous powder/deodorant/moisturiser/toothpaste/shampoo fight in the dorm, right at the end of Prep. I missed it by seconds, because I’d been in the library and was still coming back. But Mrs Graham was convinced I’d been in it and she said Miss Curzon had seen me there, which she couldn’t have, and when I asked Miss Curzon she said she’d never said that at all. Talk about getting framed.
    Apparently the Housemistress before Mrs Graham was even worse—she had a Breathalyser and she used it to test anyone who’d been out on Exeat. It’s hard to believe, but Skye Wills swears it’s true. I mean, that is sick.
    J UNE 28
    K, S and T have been severely gated—I thought they’d have been suspended at least. All that money Kate’s father heaped on the school for tennis courts and the library and everything must have paid off. I reckon I would have gone with them if I’d known I’d just get gated.
    I rang Chloe tonight—she’s got an exam tomorrow so I thought I’d better tell her to go for gold. She sounded OK—I think she’s done a bit more work this year. She needed to—Mum and Dad went sick about her results last year.
    Sisters have been living in my brain a lot lately. I’m so curious about Miranda. Is she or isn’t she? I wonder if Chloe thinks about her, or worse, if she’s ever gone looking for her. It’d be funny if we met in the Dobson Road Milk Bar, opposite Mrs Aston’s.
    But with all this thinking, I’ve come to a decision. I’m not going to go there any more, to Dobson Road. That’s it now. I want to know the truth about Miranda, but I want it straight. In fact I want it from Dad. I want him to tell me, and I’ll wait until he does, and if necessary, one day I’ll ask him myself. It may not be for a year or two, but I’ll wait. I’d rather do that and have it open. Everyone’s been too sneaky about it, operating in the shade, in the shadows. Me included.
    It’s strange to think I could have a little half-sister. I don’t know if I’d ever want to meet her. I’m not very good with those really young kids. I think Miranda’s going to have to be shoved into the back of my mind for a while.
    It was good tonight though. Chloe and I had a good goss. No-one else wanted the phone for once. But Chloe did say that Lynette’s practically moved in to Dad’s. She’s there all the time. She’s got a lot of her clothes there, and she’s bought some new furniture for the flat. Sounds like now she’s spending Dad’s money for