Dork Diaries — Miss Penelope

“I’m not writing in that old thing,” she said, kicking a stuffed bunny across the floor. “It’s boomer cringe.”

Not mine. The diary.

And then, as they were leaving for Bali again (this time for “sound bath immersion”), she tugged my sleeve. miss penelope dork diaries

“Miss Fart Cloud it is,” I said. I grabbed a wet wipe. “Now, give me the cat.” “I’m not writing in that old thing,” she

She handed me a folded piece of paper. It was a single page torn from the pink diary. On it, in purple gel pen, she had drawn two stick figures. One small, with mismatched eyes. One tall, with a coffee cup and noise-canceling headphones. Underneath, she had written: And then, as they were leaving for Bali

The night before her birthday, I found her in the attic. She had a flashlight and a purple gel pen. She was scribbling furiously. When she finished, she locked the useless lock, shoved the diary behind a loose brick, and came downstairs.