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Chapter One
I slam the journal shut in disgust. I have no words.
What the actual fuck!?
After Lizzie’s death and the arrival of her final cryptic letter, I had to wait several weeks for her journal to surface. I made myself busy during that time reaching out to this Michael Bloomberg that Lizzie’d mentioned in her final letter. We’d been corresponding during the wait, and he’d been filling me in on what life at Westchester Preparatory Academy was like. At one point I was so impatient to get my hands on her journal that I thought I was going to have to go to the school myself to search for it, convinced she’d hidden it somewhere on the grounds. However, eventually, it came on a Friday in July, around eight weeks after her death.
I should’ve been suspicious when the postman delivered the package late in the evening. Colin, our postie for years, was so reliable you could normally set your watch by him. But apparently, if you pay enough money, someone somewhere will be willing to break the rules. That Friday night, Colin didn’t deliver the parcel, and I don’t remember who did. Certainly, it wasn’t anybody I’d seen before or since. I wish I’d paid more attention at the time. I know there has to be a reason why Lizzie did this, chose this date in particular, but I haven’t figured it out yet. I will, though. By the time I’m done there won’t be any secrets between us.
I wasn’t surprised when I opened the small brown nondescript parcel, and her journal fell out into my hands. It’s not like I was expecting anything else at 8 pm on a Friday night. It was the journal I’d gotten her as a going away to school present: a hardback leather-bound piece with Busy Lizzie flowers embossed on the cover. I skimmed through the pages using my thumb and could immediately see that the journal was full. I thought it was strange because Lizzie’d died partway through the school year, and normally she’d be meticulous enough to ensure it would last the whole time. When I flip the pages fast enough, I can still pick up the faint scent of her sweet perfume. It makes my heart ache with how much I miss her.
When Lizzie sent me the final letter telling me to find her journal, I knew that it would be encoded. As kids, we’d always been interested in codes and cyphers. We loved being twins with a secret language. We’d both read about cryptography in our spare time, and we’d tried a range of different cypher styles. I quickly figured out that I just had to use her five or six-letter keyword. Easy. Except it turns out that she used a different keyword for every entry. With no repeats.
I’ve been working my ass off to decode it. It was torturous in its simplicity. Of course, her initial clue was in the letter: the chapel holds the key. All of Lizzie’s code words were linked to religion. The first codeword was in the message itself: Chapel. After that, each entry indicated with a small number in the top right-hand corner how many letters were in that particular entry’s keyword. At first, I was frustrated with her for using so many keys, but as I worked through cracking each entry one at a time, I soon realised why she’d done it like that.
Lizzie was an observer, and she wrote about the things she saw. She saw a lot, and the information she knew would definitely have put her in danger if it got into the wrong hands. But then her entries had taken a turn. She’d started to write directly to me. She knew I’d read this. In the writings to me, she details the bullying in minute detail. She had no idea why she was being targeted, though. Each entry revealed more of the horrors she experienced, and her emotional reactions speared me. This wasn’t your standard high school bullying, it was brutal. The last entry I just read left me reeling.
Speechless.
Sickened.
With that thought, I jump out of bed and race into the adjoining bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet in time before I’m sick. I’m sick until there’s nothing left and even then, I’m dry heaving. My throat’s raw, and tears are streaming down my face. I’m not even halfway through her journal yet, and I can’t imagine how things could get any worse for her. What those monsters did is beyond brutal. My poor, poor girl. My heart breaks for her and I vow I’ll make them pay.
I finish up in the bathroom, brushing my teeth to freshen up and head back into my bedroom. I place Lizzie’s journal to one side and pull out my own. Taking a pen, I begin to write a list. It’s a list of Lizzie’s bullies.
My hit list.
For vengeance.
Lizzie’s First Letter
Day 1: Wow Charlotte, you won’t believe this place! I can’t believe I’m finally here after waiting for so long. I’m so thankful for Grandma for paying the tuition from my trust fund early so that my dream could become a reality.
It really is a dream come true. The only thing that could top this for me is if you were here too. I still can’t believe you turned her down in favour of the local comprehensive. You’re mental!
Do you know, I had to pinch myself the first time I looked up and saw the school? It looks like something out of a Victorian novel. It’s so gothic, I love it. Don’t let that put you off though. There’s so many towers and turrets, and the stained-glass windows are simply stunning. I feel like Cinderella getting to come here and live in this magnificent palace, only without having to do all the work first. Too good to be true right!?
I’m sorry I had to miss our birthdays for orientation. It felt weird not to spend them together. I hope you liked your gift though. Let’s do something special when you come up to visit in the fall. Ugh, half term seems so far away now but it’s only - what - 8 weeks away? Manageable, but it feels like a lifetime to be away from you!
Do you remember when I was supposed to go for a sleepover weekend with one of the girls from primary school, and I was so homesick for you that her parents had to bring me back in the middle of the night? I can count on one hand how many nights apart we’ve spent since then. This is going to be tough but at least I can write to you.
Can you believe this place doesn’t allow internet and phones? It’s archaic, but I kind of like it. There will be fewer distractions from my studies, although I do wish I could talk to you more frequently instead of waiting for the snail mail to arrive. Still, I’m trying to stay positive: I get to use this beautiful monogrammed stationery set that Grandma got me as a going-away present. I hope you can find time to write back. Knowing you, I’ll get two lines scribbled on a food-stained napkin. You never were the monogrammed stationery type.
Classes start tomorrow and I’m nervous-excited. I’m looking forward to the challenge but scared that I’ll be behind everyone else. I don’t mind hard work though. I can definitely catch up. I’m here to work really hard and get good grades, but I’d like to make friends too, and I’m most nervous about that.
I wish I was more confident and outgoing like you Charlie-Bear. You’d have this whole school eating out of the palm of your hand within a week - probably a day. I’m going to try really hard to be less quiet and shy, I just hope everyone’s nice. Let’s face it, I may be starting at the beginning of a new school year, but these kids know each other. They’ve been schooled together since preschool probably so I’m definitely going to be an outsider. Scary thought. Maybe I can spin that into a positive, like a breath of fresh air? You would.
The one thing you’d love here is the food though. I was expecting Oliver Twist style boarding school food - you know gruel and stale bread - but the dinner I had last night surpassed even Massimo’s cooking, but don’t you dare tell him I said that! It’s like a freaking restaurant - with tablecloths, silverware and candles on the tables! I know, it’s mental. Can you imagine naked flames in the cafeteria back home? Jason Pearce would have a field day and burn the place to the ground! Anyway, we get to choose our food from a menu, and it’s brought to the table by servers. And they clean up afterwards too. I looked a bit silly last night standing with my plate in my hand asking where to take it, but luckily the people at my table were kind about it. I know we had Massimo and a housekeeper back home, but I’m not used to being waited on like this. I’m not comfortable with it really, so I hope I don’t get used to it. Last night I saw a guy snap his fingers at a server - he actually did that - and I was so mad! If you were here, you definitely would’ve marched over and given him an earful.
I’m going to have to go Char - I don’t want to leave you - but I need an early night ready for classes tomorrow. Thank god I don’t have to worry about what to wear to fit in - never thought I’d see the day I was glad to wear a uniform! I’ll write to you at the end of the week, letting you know how it’s all gone, but wish me luck. Oh, and I’ll tell you all about the amazing dorm room I have too - let’s just say the princess fantasy is very real!
I’m so glad there’s no limit on how many stamps we’re allowed because you’re going to be inundated by me! Sorry, not sorry!
I love you. Be good.
Your Busy Lizzie x
