Syltje's Diary

My dearest diary, my faithful friend, keeper of my secrets,

there's only one name I want to sing: Adriana Skal.

Oh, my dearest friend, she is wonderful! I could rave about her forever. So much that I already sound like an old grandma! Ugh! Nevertheless! What can I tell you about her? She is very smart and friendly. We share the same silly humor that Mom always rants about. She is very hardworking and conscientious. The servants are satisfied with her work. I hear them all say nothing but good things.

Adriana has dark skin, like chocolate. She has pale gray, almost light blue eyes, and curly hair. I'm not exaggerating when I say that she hardly resembles her mother. Only the eye color and the nose is the same.

I'm sure Adriana will be a good friend to me.

I sound like a grandma again. Dreadful!

Yesterday, we met secretly in the garden and played catch behind the tall bushes like two little girls. Mother would be beside herself if she found out about it. This morning she informed me that the von Rosenberg family will soon be coming for tea. Of course, I am expected to behave in the best way. Especially since my fiancé, ha!, more like my best friend, will be present. When we play cards, he always cheats. I will therefore propose charades.

Mother and father have been nervous for days. But they don't tell us children, what it's all about.

Soldiers were there yesterday and asked my parents, especially father, a lot of questions. I tried to listen, but a servant (Adriana's mother) caught me and sent me away. You don't listen in, she said.

Alma bumped her head on the edge of the table after breakfast. She now has a horrible bump. Mom suspects a concussion. Alma is supposed to be in bed... When she's not sleeping, she screams incessantly. She hates having to stay in bed. Her screaming causes me a headache. Her room is next to mine. Iker and Gitte argued. Nowhere do I find any peace and quiet. The two were so loud that Mom personally took care of them. She sent them to the garden to argue... "If you have to be loud, be outside!" This did improve my situation somewhat, but Alma can be heard throughout the house. And Camila broke one of my old stuffed animals before dinner.

She stole my favorite old bear, mind you!, from my room and cut it apart. She said she wanted to play doctor. And since my bear was very sick and needed her help, she took him out of my room to operate on him.

The bear sat on the bookshelf above my desk. She climbed onto my desk, ran over my pencils, and the finished school essay, she trampled my new fountain pen (her feet are fine), and knocked over the inkwell. Only to then get my bear and destroy it.

Mom wanted me to help her pick out a dress for a party. She didn't like any of my suggestions. Then, why does she ask me? When I returned, it was too late. Not just for my bear. The inkwell caused another tragedy. The ink ran over the essay I was working on for a week. And the ink soaked Camila's socks... I was able to follow her tracks all the way to the crime scene 'Destroyed Bear'. And the essay is to be handed in tomorrow. My class teacher will grade it. The essay that no longer exists!

Not handing in one's homework, especially the graded one, brings not only a six but also a proper punishment. Dad wrote me a letter to the teacher, but I don't think it's going to do much good. I tried to write the essay again, but now it's only ten pages. Not thirty, as before. And thirty pages is the minimum. I can't rewrite thirty pages! It's already almost midnight! And I'm tired.

My old bear is so broken that it could hardly be repaired. And before I could try to save him, Mom disposed of him. I don't know who I'm more angry with. Camila or mother.

Dad says Camila is still small, so I shouldn't be angry with her. She had to apologize and clean my desk as best she could. Now I'm supposed to forgive and forget everything. Being an adult. It was my bear. And at the age of five, you should understand that you don't take other people's toys without permission. Or destroy them! Iker never took my stuff. Camila is never so small that you could excuse it. She knew what she was doing. It was my favorite bear.

This hurts more than the destroyed essay.

Dad promised to buy me a new stuffed bear. The most beautiful one he finds.

At least.

But that won't bring my old bear back.

Camila is now angry with me for forbidding her to enter my room. Forever! I told her before that she should not go into my room without my permission. Of course, she didn't stick to that. I have now asked Dad for the key to my room door. He thought it was silly at first, but then he handed it to me. Now I can lock my door.

If only Alma would stop shouting... I want to sleep.

And Camila was constantly drumming on my door... No matter how many times Dad or one of the nannies brought her away. We are actually forbidden to lock our doors. So Camilla demanded that I lock up again. She thinks it's unfair that I'm allowed to do that now. And she doesn't want to accept it either. It doesn't help that Mom is against it too. She and Dad argued about it. But I got the key in the end. Mom doesn't agree with this. And Camilla, of course, has noticed this and is on Mom's side. Now she's sleeping. Probably. Alma is too angry to allow us to sleep. Why isn't she tired? Did she sleep too much during the day?

Of course, I'm worried about Alma. She's only two and a concussion is no small thing. Mother is a healer, but she doesn't know anything about concussions. She called for a healer. He'll probably come tomorrow morning.

Alma should also have been asleep for a long time, but apparently, she doesn't want to. She never wants to go to bed. Alma is a high-spirited whirlwind. She is always on the move.

Birger wanted to distract her with a story, but Alma doesn't want stories. She wants to play and romp. Cause chaos. Even if it's making her feel sick at the moment. She doesn't understand it yet. She's too small.

And way too loud.

I'm afraid I'll get a new migraine soon... I feel weird already.

At least we don't have to pack any packages in the next few days. With migraines and quarreling siblings, this is always an ordeal. Dad says I don't have to help when I have a headache, but Mom?

She still thinks I'm just being dramatic. Although a doctor has attested to my migraine.

Now I can't concentrate anymore. Alma is yelling at one of the nannies and asking for Mom. As I know Mother, she will not come... She likes to leave everything to the nannies. Especially the strenuous things, like a sick, unhappy, and exceedingly stubborn toddler. My agony will probably continue and slowly it stings unpleasantly in my head. I should try to sleep.

I'm a little afraid of tomorrow. Hopefully, my teacher will accept the short essay. It wasn't my fault.