Dear Diary,
Amanda came in last night crying again, I guess about 2 am, but I could be wrong.
I just know it was very late, I had been asleep for a very long time, and she
was throwing things very hard into my room.
Justin, her boyfriend, had again done or said something that upset her. I'm
not sure what the situation was, but can you blame me for not asking? He does
something like this at least once a week, so one kind of runs into another.
I could see her lying on her bed, face down, wailing like a cat whose tail was
closed in a door. Mom came in quietly and kneeled by her bed, stroking her brown
hair softly, wiping the rivers of tears and black mascara from her cheeks. Her
sobs ebbed and flowed, while Mom tried her best to quiet them.
Something had to be done. I crawled out of bed and stepped gingerly over the
shoes and clothes thrown onto my pink carpet by my angry sister. I pulled a
poster of our favorite singer off the wall, put it over my face and walked into
the bright light flowing from her room.
"Hi Amanda! Don't cry, I'm here to cheer you up," I exclaimed from
behind the poster, in my best faux boyband-member voice.
She smiled for the first time since she stepped into the house. Mom laughed.
I laughed. Amanda laughed. She gave me a big hug, a thank you without words.
An hour later, she and I were both sound asleep in our respective beds. The
crisis was over, at least for tonight. Little sister saves the day!