The Sleepover

The Sleepover

The Diary of Aubrey Lane

Entry #1

August 2

Mia came over again last night.

She showed up just after eleven, like always a quiet knock, two taps, pause, two more. I’ve gotten good at opening the window without making noise. It’s almost like muscle memory now. She doesn’t like using the front door. She says it feels too final..

She brought the sour gummy worms I like, even though I never told her they were my favorite. She just… knows. Of course she does.

We curled up in my room and watched Child’s Play again. She still laughs at the parts that make me flinch. I used to think it was mean, but now I know it’s her way of making me braver. She said I looked cute when I was scared. I didn’t know what to say to that.

She stayed over, though she didn’t sleep. She never really does. I think she likes listening to me breathe.

When she left, I could still smell her shampoo on my pillow. It’s still there now. I haven’t washed it.

Entry #2

August 5

Something’s different about her lately.

She cut her hair, said it was getting in her way but she won’t tell me why. There’s a new scar near her collarbone. Small, thin, like she tried to hide it but wanted me to see anyway. I didn’t ask.

She didn’t eat much. Just kept picking at the ramen I made, staring out the window like she was waiting for something. Or someone. I told her she didn’t have to talk about it. She gave me a look I didn’t understand, then changed the subject.

She asked me if I ever felt like I was disappearing in plain sight. I said no. I said I feel more real when she’s here. That was probably too much, but I didn’t take it back.

I told her she could stay as long as she needed. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

She slept in my bed last night. I didn’t mind. She was cold, though. I held her wrist for a while just to feel her heartbeat.

Entry #3

August 8

Mom says I’ve been acting distant. She doesn’t get it. No one does.

It’s exhausting pretending to be normal during the day, keeping quiet about the one thing that actually makes me feel alive. I almost told her Mia was here, but I don’t want them ruining it.

I moved some of Dad’s old boxes in the attic around to make space. Mia’s been hiding up there during the day, just until things blow over. It’s cramped and hot, but she says it’s fine. I’ve been sneaking her books and bottled water. She likes the quiet. She says it’s peaceful being above everything, like she’s watching the world from the outside.

She told me I’m the only one she trusts. She said I make her feel safe.

She doesn’t know, but sometimes I record our conversations and play it back when she’s not here.

Entry #4

August 11

Mia didn’t come down at all today.

I brought her lunch peanut butter and honey, no crusts, and left it on the attic step like usual, but she didn’t touch it. I waited. I even pretended to grab something from a storage box so she’d know I was there.

Still nothing.

Later, I opened the hatch and called her name. She told me to leave her alone, her voice all cracked and flat. Said the light hurt her eyes. Said she didn’t want to be seen right now.

I didn’t ask questions. I just left the sandwich and closed the door.

People always say love is this warm, bright thing. But it’s not. Love is waiting outside a door that never opens. It’s knowing someone’s on the other side and not needing them to say anything at all, just that they’re still there.

Entry #5

August 14

Mia finally spoke to me again.

I came home from school and she was in my room, sitting cross-legged on the floor like nothing had happened. She looked pale, even for her, and there was dust on her shoulders from the attic. I didn’t say anything about it. I just sat next to her.

She asked if I’d ever lied to protect someone. I said yes. Then she asked if I’d ever hurt someone to keep them close.

I didn’t answer that one.

Later, she asked if I remembered the night at the lake. I said of course I did. We promised never to talk about it. That’s what makes a secret real.

She made me pinky swear again.

She’s scared. I can feel it in the way she holds her breath when the floor creaks, or how she watches the front window when the mail truck passes.

I told her she doesn’t have to be afraid. Not as long as I’m here.

She smiled, just barely. I think she believes me.

Entry #6

August 16

I wore Mia’s bracelet to school today.

It’s the one with the little silver charms, moon, dagger, sunflower. She left it on my desk and didn’t say anything about it. It was like permission.

Nobody noticed, but I kept touching it in class. Like it meant something. Like it was proof.

Mr. Jenkins asked why I was so distracted today. I wanted to say: Because the girl I love is hiding in my attic and she might not be real anymore but she’s all I have.

Instead, I said I wasn’t feeling well. .

I don’t care if no one understands. They don’t see her the way I do. Even when she’s quiet, even when she disappears for days at a time, I know she’s thinking of me. I can feel it.

We were meant to find each other. I don’t care what anyone says.

Entry #7

August 18

Mia asked me to write something for her.

She said, “If something happens… I want you to remember me the way I was.” Then she laughed, like she didn’t mean it. But I think she did.

So I wrote a poem. Just a short one. I tucked it into the notebook I keep under my mattress, right next to the drawings I did of her. She doesn’t like when I draw her face too clearly. Says it makes her feel “trapped on paper.” I think she’s just shy.

Sometimes I wonder what she sees when she looks at me. She never says it, but I think I’m her safe place. Her hiding spot.

Everyone needs one of those.

Entry #8

August 21

There was a cop outside our house this morning.

I watched from the upstairs window while he talked to Mom on the porch. I couldn’t hear everything, but I caught the name. Mia Callahan.

My heart stopped.

Mom kept shaking her head. She looked confused, but not worried. Like she couldn’t figure out why a police officer would ask her about a girl like Mia. She never liked her. Said she was a “bad influence.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run downstairs and tell him she was safe, that I had her, that she didn’t need anyone else. But Mia told me not to say anything. She was firm. Her face went blank, and her voice went low, and she said, “If you care about me, you won’t say a word.”

So I didn’t.

I just watched the cop walk away, and then I closed my curtain and locked my door.

Entry #9

August 23

Mia’s been cold again. Not physically, I mean the way she talks to me.

She’s distant. Restless. She keeps saying weird things like, “They’ll find out soon,” and “Everything catches up eventually.” I tried to hold her hand last night and she pulled away. I pretended it didn’t hurt.

I don’t know what she wants from me anymore.

I keep thinking about that night at the lake. The full moon, the hush of the trees, the way the water swallowed sound. I remember her eyes, how wide they were. How bright. How scared.

We promised not to talk about it, but I think about it all the time.

I wonder if she does too.

Entry #10

August 25

Mom found the bracelet.

She held it up this morning and asked where I got it. I said I didn’t remember. She stared at me too long. Then she went quiet. That kind of quiet that makes your chest feel tight.

I went upstairs and opened the attic door.

Mia wasn’t there.

The books were stacked neatly. The blanket folded. The space empty, like she’d never been there at all.

I sat there for hours waiting for her to come back. She didn’t.

Entry #11

August 27

I haven’t seen her in two days.

She always comes back. She always knocks, always waits for me. But this time... nothing.

I’m trying not to panic. I’m trying not to go back to the lake. But something inside me feels heavy, like I already know the ending and I’m just pretending I don’t.

Maybe she left because I wasn’t enough. Maybe I scared her off.

But no. That’s not true.

Final Entry

August 29

I think I’m being followed.

Not by Mia.

By people.

The same black SUV was parked across from the school again today. And Mom and Dad are acting weird. They keep whispering when they think I can’t hear, and Dad’s been coming home early. He never does that.

I know they went through my room. My desk drawer was off by half an inch. The corner of my diary was sticking out from under the bed. I always keep it tucked in perfectly.

I think they know.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s gone. Wherever she is, whatever she’s running from, I just hope she thinks of me.

That’s all I want now.

To be remembered.

Like I remember her.

September 1

Aubrey dropped her backpack at the door.

She could tell something was off the moment she stepped inside. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Her parents were seated at the dining table, stiff, pale, eyes darting between each other and a man in a dark jacket standing between them.

The man turned around.

He was holding her diary.

“Aubrey Lane?”

She froze. Her throat tightened.

“I’m Detective Wells. We executed a search warrant on your room this morning. This was found beneath your bed.” The Detective says while holding up her diary.

Aubrey doesn’t say anything. Her eyes flick to her mother, who’s silently crying, then to her father, jaw clenched, fists resting on the table like he’s holding himself down.

“Mia Callahan has been missing for six months. She was last seen at the party by the lake… the night of March 2nd.”

Aubrey’s expression doesn’t change. Still frozen.

“Yet you’ve been writing about her almost every day. As if she’s been here. In your room. In your attic. Eating gummy worms and watching movies.”

Aubrey still doesn’t respond.

Detective Wells continues, “This morning, we found Mia’s body. Her remains were discovered buried near the north side of the lake hidden beneath a pile of brush and decaying leaves. By the decomposition, it appears she died the night of the party… 6 months ago.

Aubrey didn’t cry. She didn’t look surprised.

She blinked once. Then slowly, softly, she said:

“But she was here. Last night. She brought the gummy worms.”

The room went silent.

Detective Wells finally says, “Aubrey Lane, you are under arrest for the murder of Mia Callahan.”