My Best Friend Brother

Chapter Four: Dev journal

Dev’s Journal

First Reluctant Entry

Mrs. Hamon, that wretched water buffalo, has assigned the summer English

class the weekly task of writing in a journal. She says it will sharpen our writing skills while giving us an outlet for

self-examination, but how can she discount the. reality that a private journal almost always ends up in the wrong hands and can be

used as damning evidence to incriminate you in a court of law? I want to go into banking and finance one day, so this is critically

short-sighted, but what can I expect from an English teacher who reads steamy romance novels while inhaling cheap, Whitman

chocolates in between classes—and doesn’t even have the dignity try to hide it properly?

That’s right, lady, nothing escapes my notice, including that foul hair growing out of your

chin! Mrs. Hamon has just proven herself

a lazy moron. I find it beyond brilliant that she will not be reading said journal or inspecting the assignment in any way as to determine if we have executed on her request, yet we will be

graded. How will I achieve the highest score and wickedly sabotage the class curve? Damn her That’s standard public schooling in the United States, as I was forewarned. Thankfully, most of my primary education was received in the UK or I might have to protest and demand they bring in someone qualified to teach twelfth grade English. Regardless, since she is asking us

to give her our word that we have written in a journal, I will maintain my integrity and resist the temptation to deceive…although

I would bet any amount of money two thirds of the class is doing just that. Dishonorable bastards.

Until next time.

-Dev

P.S. On a personal note, it appears Annika’s friend and constant shadow, Scarlett, will be

swimming in my pool all summer—again. I’m not sure what I’ve ever done to her, but she seems to despise me. She’s pretty, so I assume

she’s used to boys falling over themselves in her presence and

therefore cannot endure my lack of enthusiasm for her white bikini (which did look great on her, if I must be honest). But coming from her background, pretty won’t get her far in life but perhaps a bit further than Hamburger Flipper at the local Dairy Queen. Maybe she could become a secretary “for a cars salesman, or if she’s really ambitious, a realtor with her face on a park bench sign… Of note, she threatened to never speak to me again yesterday and treated me like I was some monstrously mean-spirited thug (which I am not, but I don’t have to

tell you that). I’m going to try and not cry about the sudden and shocking loss of the stimulating and enlightening conversation…which we never had with one another.

Good riddance, Scarlett.

You are invisible to me

now.