A Teenage Memoir

[Evan Brackett]

A simple, black spiral notebook, cheap and unremarkable. The name Evan Brackett—smeared but still legible—was written in silver sharpie by an unsteady hand in the top left corner of the inside cover. The penmanship of the initial entries was equally sloppy, but improved as the dates progressed.

[Evan Brackett]

Entry Date: December 18th, 2011

They’re starting me on writing today. I’m supposed to practice whenever I feel up to it so I get used to being lefty. They gave me this book. I don’t like it.

[Evan Brackett]

A few pages before this one are torn out of the book. Bits of perforation are stuck in the binding, the only remaining evidence of the pages’ existence.


Entry Date: December 19th, 2011

Wrote Levi a note. Looked like crap, didn’t like it, threw it out. He’d think it was stupid anyway.

[Evan Brackett]

Entry Date: December 23rd, 2011

My handwriting’s getting better. I still hate this place.

Entry Date: December 25th, 2011

It’s Christmas. I wish I was dead.

Entry Date: December 26th, 2011

They put me in therapy.

[Evan Brackett]

Entry Date: December 30th, 2011

It’s so boring here. I’ve already read through the books Levi brought for me. I even read some of them twice. He’s trying really hard to help me, but…I don’t know. I just want to get out of here.

Levi hid a disk in one of my books. I don’t know when he thinks I’ll be able to watch it. The nurses check in on me regularly, and I don’t have a computer.

I tried drawing yesterday. It was pathetic.

I don’t know what else to do. I can only take so much TV. They’re already showing re-runs of the same episodes they played last week.

I really hate this place.

Therapists are annoying.

[Evan Brackett]

Entry Date: January 1st, 2012

Happy freaking New Year.

Entry Date: January 4th, 2012

My arm’s healed, and they fitted me for a prosthetic last week. They made me a physical therapy schedule based on my progress, so it’s kinda like training. I hate it just as much. But they’re starting to talk about when I can go home. I have to prove I’m competent enough in using my prosthetic first, but then I get to go home and I won’t have to go to school for a while after that.

I can’t wait to get out of here—I mean, I can’t even express how badly I want to get out—but the more I think about going back home, the more…afraid I get? If that makes any sense…I don’t know. It’s just, that’s where it happened, you know? So I don’t want to go back there and see it. I don’t want to remember, even though I think about it all the time. This place makes me think about it. And I dream about it. Is it stupid to be afraid of your own home? It’s not like the house did it.

Oh, God, I can’t imagine what it’s like for my parents. They have to renovate, but there isn’t much they can do while it’s still wintery out. They removed the part of the deck where it happened, but still…

This is all my fault.

[Evan Brackett]

Entry Date: January 5th, 2012

I’m missing Levi’s birthday too. This sucks.

I’m going to call him later, and maybe he’ll stop by after school. I didn’t get him anything. I’m terrible. He shouldn’t have to visit me on his birthday.