This Journal Belongs to Ratchet by Nancy J. Cavanaugh

love Dad anymore. She was tired of living in broken-down houses. She was tired of him working all the time and not making enough money. She was tired of him talking about the Good Lord all the time and spending every minute of every day thinking about “saving the world.”
    It was funny because those were all the things I was tired of. But I hadn’t ever once thought of leaving Dad.

WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
    The question without an answer just got answered.
    Why would Dad not want me to see what was in the box?
    Turns out Dad had a really good reason — one I never could’ve imagined.
    Now I have another question without an answer:
    If I couldn’t even imagine the truth, I wonder if that means what I thought was the truth was really only imagined?

WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
    How does a mom
    Leave?
    How does she
    Live
    After she’s
    Left?
    How does her
    Heart
    Not break?
    How does she
    Write
    A letter
    Instead of
    Staying
    To be
    A mom?

WRITING EXERCISE: Respond personally to a famous quote.
    Whitney Houston:
    â€œShe’s (my mother) my teacher, my advisor, my greatest inspiration.”
    Ratchet’s Response:
    What could a mom who left
    Teach me to think
    Except that
    I wasn’t worth sticking around for.
    What could a mom who left
    Advise me to do
    Except to
    Quit when things don’t go my way.
    What could a mom who left
    Inspire me to become
    Except
    A girl who’s so empty of good things
    She knows she won’t
    Ever be able to become
    Anything.

WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
    Hunter came over today. Dad just let him in the house without me even knowing it. I was in my room listening to his CD and singing at the top of my lungs when he showed up at my bedroom door. I finally have a real friend and then he sees me doing something embarrassing like singing into a hairbrush. Good thing Hunter thought it was funny.
    Hunter had never been inside my house before. Thankfully Dad had finished a lot of work on the inside already. Even so, Hunter’s house was a lot nicer than ours. But after all, he did have a real mom to make it a home. I not only had a dead mother, I had one who had left us.
    Hunter and I talked about the plans for his go-cart for a while. He said his dad would probably never get around to rebuilding a car with him, so he wanted to make his go-cart look like a ’57 Chevy.
    Later I went to the kitchen to get us a snack. When I came back to my room, Hunter was reading the rough draft of my persuasive essay. I wished he’d at least picked up the final copy. I wasn’t used to people reading my stuff. I wanted to grab it away from him, but before I could do anything, Hunter said, “This is really good, Ratchet! You should send it in for the newspaper’s essay contest.”
    I was supposed to read the newspaper every day as part of my social studies work, but I hadn’t picked up a newspaper in weeks. I didn’t know anything about an essay contest.
    â€œThe winner gets their essay published in the paper. They also get fifty dollars,” Hunter explained.
    I told him I didn’t know. “It’s just an assignment I have to turn in. It’s not really good enough to win anything.”
    â€œI think it is!” said Hunter. “Besides, how do you know if it’s good enough unless you send it in?”
    I told him I’d think about it, but I knew I’d never send it in. A persuasive essay about a park that was going to be history didn’t seem like a winner to me, so what would be the point?

WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
    Ever since I’d read the letter from Mom, the guilt about being mad at Dad weighed more than the car that was on top of the jack that slipped and crushed his thumb.
    He didn’t want to talk about the mystery box. And now I knew why. He didn’t want me to know about Mom leaving. Better if I just think she’s dead.
    Maybe he didn’t want me to feel bad about her not