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My dragon journal

Minerva's Diary

My dragon journal

Stephen H. Provost

This is the first entry I made in my diary.

February 27, 2011

Today’s my 16th birthday, and what does my mother get me? A journal. Thanks a lot, Jessica. I know you got this from that slimeball Derrick who’s been staying overnight here and eating all my Cocoa Puffs in the morning. I’m the oldest, so I’m not supposed to get hand-me-downs, except I guess not, right? I get rejects instead. From my so-called-mother. I remember when she got this from him she made her wincey-smile face, like, “I really like this. Not. But I don’t want you to stop getting me stuff I DO like, so I’ll pretend.” She broke up with him a week after that. Guess why? Because he stopped getting her stuff.

At least it has this cool old-fashioned dragon on the cover. I’ve always liked dragons. They sit in a cave most of the time and just sleep, like me. They breathe fire, which I think would hurt their mouth a lot, but maybe it doesn’t because they’re magic. They’re supposed to be really smart, too. I don’t know if I’m really smart, but I’d like to be. Maybe if I keep writing, I’ll be smart someday. Whatever.

I might as well do something with this journal, because it’s the only present Jessica got me. Even though it’s not really from her. I guess I should be grateful and take what I can get, right? It will give me something to do beside just read all the time.