Grandpa's Notebook

"Hey it's over here!" Amanda shouted from across the attic. "Can you hear me Demi?"

I could, but something I saw in the corner of my eye had caught all my attention. It seemed to be an ancient-looking black notebook, with a leather cover and initials carved into the spine. OV, that was Grandpa’s name. Orso Vecoli. Last summer while me and Amanda had been visiting Italy, before he died, he had told me how his name meant “Bear.” I thought that was cool, but I never did tell him that. I didn’t know him very well, and seeing Amanda so heartbroken over his death made me feel guiltier. I should have at least talked to him more, I thought to myself, before I was awoken from my pondering. “Hey! Earth to Demi!” I couldn’t help but laugh at the robot voice my sister was doing. Even though I knew she was sad to be back in Italy for grandpa’s funeral, she never let me see it. She was determined to make this summer just as fun as the rest. I felt sorry for her but I couldn’t help but be relieved. I wouldn't know what to say if she started talking about Grandpa.

“I found the beach balls, if my little bear isn’t too busy to go swimming.” She laughed. I slipped the notebook into my pocket and gave her a smiling nod, following her down the stairs to the ground level of Grandpa’s bungalow. Despite only being here 3 summers out of my 15, it felt nostalgic. The view from Grandpa’s was just as beautiful as I remembered it, and I could smell the salty sea in the breeze as we made our way outside. Forgetting about the notebook, I changed into my swimming trunks and ran down to the beach, shortly followed by Amanda. Days like these made me remember hanging out with my sister before she became an adult and got so busy, and part of me was glad she had an excuse to come back to Italy, as selfish as that might have been.

“So, what trouble did you guys get yourselves into today?” mom asked, grinning. She looked exhausted, probably from planning Grandpa’s funeral mostly herself.

“Oh not much, definitely not as exciting as your day, Mom.” said Amanda sassily. She got a little help from Amanda, but being an only child as well as a widow, she had a lot on her plate. Despite the workload, she still made time to make us a warm, home cooked meal every night, her smile lighting up the room as always. I admired her for that. Both Amanda and Mom were so strong, I wished I could be like them.

After dinner, as I changed back into my clothes, I felt something in my back pocket. I had forgotten about the notebook. It felt so wrong to look inside, like I was peeking into a room that would be better off untouched, but curiosity and boredom got the better of me. looking at it. The notebook. Grandpa’s room. I opened it, slowly and cautiously. To my surprise, (and albeit disappointment) it was empty. At least I won’t be up all night. I laid down in bed and looked up at the ceiling. I recalled the days I had spent with Grandpa. The precious memories I had made with him. I did not have many, but I cherished the ones I did. I held on to them in the form of his notebook as tears rolled down my cheeks. Slowly, I drowsed away, and fell asleep. Little did I know, the room I just peeked into was far bigger, far scarier, far more overwhelming than I could've expected.

I saw fire, but it wasn’t hot. The flames were short and black, making what looked like a trail. I followed it to the attic, and suddenly, I awoke. It was a dream. “The notebook!” Said a voice in my head, and without thinking I quickly scrambled for it. I opened it up to a random page, page number 74, and there it was. At the top of the page, in large, messy handwriting, sat a simple “HeLLO.” I sat there wondering what my dream meant, and if it had any connection to the notebook and without thinking I scribbled a hello on the same page as if I was talking to the book. My eyes drifted away… and as they drifted back I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! As my eyes adjusted to the yellowed pages, I saw words beginning to appear.

“iTS ME” and “Go TO THe ATTiC”

I was in awe. I didn’t know whether I should follow the book’s orders or not. Who did it mean by “ME,” and who knew what would be waiting for me in the attic? I heard someone’s footsteps echo in the hall, and quickly closed the book shut. It was Amanda. Of course it was, her room is right beside mine. My heart was racing. Times like these were when I wished I could be more like my sister, she would know what to do.

“Aha!” I exclaimed out loud. That’s exactly what I should do, I should ask Amanda!

I started down the hall to the kitchen when I heard Mom and Amanda talking in the kitchen. I stopped right outside the door and listened, so as not to interrupt. My curiosity often got the better of me.

“...he’s still young, he doesn’t need to worry about these things.” I heard my mom say. This got me even more curious.

“Mom, Demi is smarter than you think. I don’t think you realize how much you baby him sometimes. I’m not saying he needs to know everything, but he could definitely help.” Amanda said, and was met with silence from our mother.

I heard footsteps, and I quickly ran back into my room before I was caught. As I shut the door behind me, I heard Mom and Amanda lock the front door. I guess asking them for help with the notebook was out of the question. I flipped back to page 74, and my mouth fell open with realization. The words were gone! Even if I wanted to ask for help now, who would believe me? There was only one choice. I decided to brave the attic on my own.

I slowly made my way down the hall again, picturing the flames leading me up the stairs like in my dream. The more I thought about it, the more details I started to remember. I remembered that right as I had woken up, the flames had caught the cloth in the far right of the room on fire. Yet there it sat, unscathed. I tread towards it carefully, noticing the black bears threaded onto it in a pattern as I got closer. It was around where I first noticed the notebook. I explored the area some more, but found nothing. Maybe the notebook has more clues, I thought. I opened it up, instinctively flipping to page 74. Nothing. But...I had an idea.

I took out my pencil and quickly scribbled, “What now?”

No response. Wait!

I erased some, and changed it to say “What now, Grandpa?”

Despite having the idea myself, I was shocked to see it worked. As the words started to appear, the absurdity of the situation really came to me. Was I talking to my dead grandpa? Through his notebook? Amanda would be so thrilled to know about this!

But just as I had that thought, the words read out:

“THiS IS YoUR TASK, LiTTLE BEAR. OUR BuRNING ANCESToRS SHOW THe WAY” and next to it, a symbol of the same blackbear.

Why would grandpa not want me to tell anyone? Was it something only I could do? Most of all, why pick me, when Amanda and Mom were so much braver? As these thoughts darted through my mind, I put two and two together and realized...maybe I need to set the cloth on fire! Without thinking twice, I ran downstairs to grab the lighter we used for the gas stove, leaving the notebook open on the attic floor. As soon as I came back up, I started the torch towards the cloth. As it burned, I could easily tear it away, and behind it revealed a little box with a 4-digit code lock on it. I tried all the combinations I could think of, grandpa’s birth year, even mom’s and Amanda’s. None of them worked.

Wait! What was the page number again? I looked down to the notebook and let out a scream! I had started a fire with the torn away cloth! I quickly punched in “0074,” but my fingers were shaking. I opened the box, and it was full to the brim with cash! I had to get this out of here! I tried to run, but my head was getting hazy as the room around me filled with smoke. I fell over unable to move my body, and as my eyes closed the last things I could remember was looking at the notebook, and the sound of distant yelling.

“DEMI!”

“DEMI WHERE ARE YOU?”

I saw the yellowy page 74 that I had gotten so used to looking at, and on it in bold letters, “YoU DID iT, DEMI. ORSo IS SO PRoUD”

I awoke to my sister’s face, tears in her eyes. “DEMI! YOU’RE OKAY!”

She threw her arms around me, and before long, I was crying too. Mom was sitting in the corner of the room, asleep in her chair. I was inside grandpa’s bungalow! Was it all a dream? Where was the notebook?

“Demi you had us both so worried!” Amanda said through tears. “But you...you did it! I knew you could, my little bear!”

My head felt hazy still, but as my eyes slowly examined the room, I noticed the box I had discovered sitting on the bedside table. As I drifted back to sleep, all I could think to say was, “It wasn’t me, Amanda. It was Grandpa.”