We all know I loved the Dear America series, books where nothing good ever happened. So in 2006, I decided to write my own. About a war, of course.

This was written in the summer of 2006 as I was watching coverage of the Lebanon War on the news, which is what inspired this.

This is set in the weird fantasy world that existed inside of the real world.

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The Diary of Samantha Karth: Apple Brook War, 1990

September 17, 1990

I'm Samantha Krath (yes, the last name is different than the one on the title page) and my parents gave me this diary for my 10th birthday. It came with a purple ribbon for a bookmark. Dad took me to Car City for ice cream. Max's chin turned white from his vanilla. He's so crazy. A man from Apple Brook was arguing with a man from Roseland. Roseland wants our land, but we won't let him. (Him?)

Ah, the classic war over land rights. In 1990, no less.

September 18, 1990

I helped Mama bake cookies today. Das took the wagen to town for flour. I wish we could have an electric stove, running water, and a car like Car City people do! But Apple Brook and Walnut Grove live old-fashiond.

September 23, 1990

I have no news. I wish I do.

This is the cliche "be careful what you wish for" moment, young Samantha.

September 27, 1990

I have news today. Bad news. (Gasp!) The Roselands are at war with Apple Brook. All the men, even Dad, have gone to fight. (Because this is what men do in war. All of them. No exceptions.) Everyone 18 & up is fighting. Mr. Lerwin, the storekeeper, built an underground shelter. 300 women and children will live in that or in the Peterson's basement.

Pause: So in one day, this dude build an underground shelter equipped for a couple hundred people? Or was he a doomsdayer and already had this just in case?

I helped Mama bury flour and her jewelry. (The essentials, am I right.) We packed food, clothes, toothbrushes, a hairbrush, a mirror, shoes, my dolls, and Max's favorite toys. The Fishers barn is keeping our animals. The shelter was already full, so we had to go to the basement. It has a stove, a tiny bathroom, chairs and a table, mattresses, and piles of blankets.

September 28, 1990

(At this point my own writing went from pencil to pen.)

I am using ink and a pen now. My pencil was "accidently" stepped on by Max. More than 60 kids are staying here. (In a basement?! I HAD a basement. I should have realized how unfathomable sixty kids in a basement would be.) I share a mattress with 5 other kids. There's hardley any walking space in here. (You don't say.) I guess there is 150 people in here.

October 1, 1990

I am so bored! It's impossible to play games, it's so crowded in here! I wish we could have t.v. We have scrabble, candy land, and monopoly, but those get boring. Some kids brought toys of boats, dolls, stuffed animals, a tiny dollhouse, and wooden animals.

October 2, 1990

Last night soilders broke into the barn and took the animals, fruits, and vegetables. We had bread, water, and coffee for breakfast.

Another pause: I don't think this war has a single bomb in it. However, I had all the women and children bunkering underground because that is what I saw on TV.

October 3, 1990

Here's what happened today—Mama sent me down to the soilder's camp to give a bundle of bread, cheese, and doughnuts to Dad.

What??? the actual??? crap??! Why is she sending a CHILD?! HER OWN CHILD no less??

Max, Jack Peterson, and Laurel Peterson came along. (Because if we're going to have one dead child, let's make it four.) We were walking when five soilders stepped in our path. I could tell they were Roseland soilders from there jackets. "Where are you going?" one demanded in a rough voice.

"I'm bringing food to my father," I said.

"Who are these children?" a second one asked.

"My sister and our friends," Max said simply.

Than the first one spoke again. "You say you bring this food to your father. What's his name?!?" (Original punctuation.)

"James Karth." I could hardly here my own voice.

All five of the soilders laughed. "James Karth has been taken captive!" The second one sputterd.

Oreo, my dog, growled. (Where the heck did Oreo come from)

I couldn't belive my ears. "T-Tak-ken c-captive?" I asked, shakiely.

"And Luke Peterson, too?" Laurel asked. A third soilder nodded carelessly.

This lasts for five more pages and I want to type this whole story so I have to skip it. Basically, the kids anger the soldiers with their questions and they have to dramatically run for their lives. No one, not even the dog, is shot. Because what is realism.

When we burst through the door of the basment, Mama and Mrs. Peterson rushed twords us. Jack told them the whole story. When he was done, Mrs. Peterson knelt down and hugged him. (I'm sorry for sending you to your near-death, son. But I would probably do it again.) Mama sighed and went to fix our dinner. (Meanwhile there's no remorse on her front.) We sat down for dried fish, bread, and milk. That's all we have since the soilders stole the rest.

It makes me sick to think of those soilders staying in our houses, eating our food, and sleeping in our beds, while the people of Apple Brook are suffering in shelters and camps or...the battlefield!

That's not dramatic at all.

October 4, 1990

The days are getting shorter and colder. I'm worried for our soilders. And I'm sick of fish, water, and stale bread. When I complained Mama said, "Think of your father in the prison camp. He probably hasn't had food for days." Suddenly the fish didn't seem so dry, the water wasn't as tasteless, and the bread wasn't near as hard as before.

October 8, 1990

Today was warmer. I was glad to step out and stretch my legs after days of being cramped inside. I wish I could see Dad more and more every second of the day.

October 9, 1990

Laurel and I sat by the stove and played monopoly today. I've made up my mind. I'm going to see Dad tonight.

Because this couldn't possibly be a bad idea.

12:18 AM

I did see Dad. I hid my lunch and dinner in a bag to take to him. I pretended to be asleep, and when the last grown-up had gone to bed, I slipped out and went silently out the door.

I feel like with the minor danger of a civil war and all one person should stay awake at all times to guard but maybe that's just me.

I've always loved open space, which is what I don't have in the Peterson's basement. But I never knew how big the night is intill just a few hours ago. The camp was a long way from us, I'm guessing five miles. When I saw the long metal gates of camp, I started running, stumbiling really, in the dark. I pressed my face against the cold gates and searched for dad.

SPEAKING OF NOT BEING GUARDED.

Than I saw him. He was sleeping on some blankets by a shed. I stuck my hand through the bars and tapped his shoulder. (How convenient that he was so near the fence.) Dad sat up, surprised, and looked even more surprised when he saw me.

"Samantha!" he whispered. "What are you doing here?" ("Being an idiot.")

I didn't answer for a long time. I leaned against the bars, out of breath. Finally, I said, "I brought food." I threw it over the tall railing. (This entire time it was like the word "fence" escaped me.) Dad caught it. "Dad," I said breathle-ssly. (I ran out of space on the line and separated the word like this.) "Please let me help you escape!"

Okay. Show me how you'll manage this. I'll wait.

"No!" Dad said, Feircely. "You could get killed!"

Suddenly, I noticed the guard. He was sleeping.

*insert every facepalm emoji in existence*

I put my finger to my lips. As I tiptoed over to the guard, I saw the key poking out of his pocket. I grabbed it, stuffed it in my left boot, and ran back to the grove of trees where the gate was. I ratteld the chains, which immeadently (?) woke the guard.

Did she do it on purpose?? Because it sounds that way.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly.

Not performing the most cliche jail bust ever, that's for sure.

"I-I uh, left my doll outside by mistake," I lied. (You lied? You don't say?) "See, I live over there." I pointed to a cabin across the field." I paused, thinking.

I swallod, than said, "While I was over in the woods, I thought I heard a noise. When I walked over here, a soilder had climbed over the gate and started running down the path!"

The guard jumped to his feet. "Which way?!?" he shouted.

"That way!"I said, pointing.

The guard took off running into the woods.

Oh good lord.

I flew to the gate, unlocked it, and just ran, ran back in the direction of the Petersons. I heard bootsteps as the captured soilders, including Dad, ran to a safe place intill morning.

I truged back to the house, tired and hungry. When I opened the door, planning to slip back in bed, I saw that everyone, even all the kids, were awake. Mama ran to me.

"Dad's all right," I said. "He's alright!"

I told Mama the whole story while she heated up some fish for me. She said, "Don't you relize you could of been killed!"

Don't you realize you almost sent her to be killed a few chapters back?

October 14, 1990

Today Max and I found an abandoned fruit stockpile. It had apples, cherrys, grapes, and berries. We made a whole lunch of it. We baked pies and had some for dinner.

October 14, 1990 (Yes I had the same day twice in a row)

Today we were surprised and scared to here knocking on the basement door. Mrs. Woodrow asked, "Who-who is it?" I could hear a man's voice say he was a reporter from Car City news. Mrs. Woodrow opened the door. (Because there's certainly no chance he's lying.) A man asked all the grown-ups if they could film us. Mama said yes. We ventured out of our hiding spots and went back to the games we were playing. The man with the camera filmed us cooking, reading, playing, and filmed the younger kids asleep on the mattresses. Then the reporter talked to the camera about the bombs that had been falling.

Never mind then. There actually are bombs. Which only makes everyone in this story THAT MUCH MORE STUPID.

As I was eating lunch, I thought, "If
Car City can film us, why can't they help us?"

October 16, 1990

We were up all night because of bombs. The sky was pitch black with smoke. This morning while we were having fruit and bread and a boy named Cameron was reading the paper, he shouted, "Look here! Car City wants to help in the war!" I read out loud that soilders were being trained. In a week they could start fighting.

Because nothing like waiting to train your "soilders" until a war actually starts.

Next is a really long entry about Roseland "soilders" searching the basement and stealing more food and we'll skip it.

October 23, 1990

Today, Car City went to war. It's now being fought in Car City, Roseland, Apple Brook, and our new allies, Walnut Grove.

October 24, 1990

The war is also being fought in England, Roseland's allies. There other allies are France and United Kingdom.

I mean, okay.

Keep in mind this war started over land.

Also I apparently didn't know that England is part of the United Kingdom.

October 29, 1990

I haven't written in awhile because we were moved to a refugee shelter in Chicago, a far away place where there is no fighting. It is actually an indoor stadium. (I got this idea from the Super Dome shelter following Hurricane Katrina.) I was glad to get a shower and have a real meal. We rode on a big bus to get here, with each of us holding a suitcase.

Everything in Chicago is big! Our bus pulled up at the huge stadium. It was crowded inside. A news reporter was filming, inside. Blankets and air mattress were on the ground to sleep on.

A lady who worked for Red Cross made sure we weren't sick before we got our places to sleep. Lights out is at 9:00. Breakfast is served at 7:30.

I have to go now, lights are turning off.

You can tell I watched a lot of news because for once I have no unrealism to complain about.

In this next segment, Samantha is interviewed by a reporter and answers lots of boring questions. We shall skip it.

October 31, 1990

It hardly seems like Halloween. It's the first one where Dad doesn't sit on the front steps with us to carve a jack-o-lantern. It's the first one where Max and I don't jump around Mama as she puts the finishing touches on our costumes. It's the first one where we don't knock on neighbor's doors to get candy and stickers. It's the first one—

WE GET IT.

This goes on for a page and a half.

We did celebrate, though. The Red Cross gave us candy. We all made hats. I made a princess crown. There's even a jack-o-lantern, even if it is plastic.

November 1, 1990

Today I found Laurel! We were all lined up for breakfast when I saw her sitting on bleachers. I broke out of line and ran to her. We were together all day. The Red Cross brought a box someone had donated of play-dough, balls, crayons, board games, card games, and a letter. This is what it said—

"We are the Boy Scouts of Bosten, Massachusets. We hope you all like the things we sent you. We thought you would be bored.
Love,
The boy scouts of Bosten, Massachussets."

Then Samantha writes a page-long letter of thanks.

I wasn't sure what to do, so I gave it to a Red Cross worker. He said that he'll try to mail it as soon as he can.

November 3, 1990

it's cold today! The red cross gave us boxes of jackets, gloves, hats, and socks that were donated by people.

Max and I have been making a list of what to be thankful for. Today I put the red cross on the list. Max put ice cream sundeas.

November 6, 1990

Today the red cross workers helped me and all the other kids make paper turkeys. We also filled a cornacopia with squash, gourds, and tiny pumpkins.

November 30, 1990

I'm going to get Max! He hid my diary and forgot where! Finally I told Mama and she made him find it.

For Thanksgiving, the volunteers who cook for the shelter gave us a meal of turkey, dressing, and mashed potatoes. I added this diary to the list of things I'm thankful for.

December 2, 1990

It seems strange to be out of school for so long! I haven't been since September. It doesn't seem strange to Max. He loves a school vacation.

I don't know what I'm going to do for Christmas gifts for my family. All I have in my suitcase besides clothes is a toothbrush, hairbrush, and three dolls.

December 6, 1990

Today we got a Christmas tree! It's small, and only has paper chains and a star on top. But it's a tree.

December 15, 1990

Today something bad happened. We heard on the news that bomb planes are headed our way. We had to pack our things and rush onto the bus. Max kept asking, "Will we be all right?" Mama was worried because she didn't know where we were going.

We got to the Memphis shelter by noon. (Because the drive from Illinois to Tennessee is that short.) The bomb planes don't know this one exists. I feel safe because of that. Plus, the bomber guys are being put in jail.

I wasn't even trying anymore at this point.

December 20, 1990

Today, Red Cross volunteers handed out Christmas cookies and apple cider. One volunteer who looked no older than college age read Christmas stories to me and all the kids. It feels like Christmas, except Dad isn't here.

December 21, 1990

Max found some play-dough from the old shelter in his suitcase. He tried to play with it, but it was hardend. My favorite volunteer here helped us make paper chain and ornaments for the tree.

December 24, 1990

It's Christmas Eve! After dinner, we sang Christmas carols and drank hot chocolate. I didn't think about getting presents intill we were lying on our cots. Mama was already asleep. "Samantha!" Max whispered. I sat up. "What?" I asked.

Through the dark I could see the outline of his face. "What about presents?" he whispered.

"Huh?" I said.

"Santa doesn't know we're here, does he?"

I nodded. "Yes he does. Right now Santa's waiting for you to fall asleep."

Max nodded too. He lay down, but a few seconds later he sat up again. "But Santa get in here. We don't have a chimney."

I looked up at the dome ceiling, than at Max. I didn't know what to tell him. "I guess you're right," I said finally, rubbing my foot on the fake grass.

I've got to go now. It must be almost eleven.

Christmas Day!

I woke up even before the lights came on. I pulled out my gift for Mama—a drawing of our whole family. For
Max, I had made a clay horse at one of the red cross kid's activities.

Everyone woke up when the lights came on. "Deck the halls with boughs of holly!" burst out of the radio speakers, so the lights weren't the only thing waking everyone up. I sat up as the music turned down. "Merry Christmas!" I told Mama, handing her the drawing. I handed Max the clay horse. "Thank you!" They both said.

Mama gave me the necklace she always wears. It's a locket. Inside is a picture of Dad.

December 30, 1990

Today, an annoying thing happend. Car City soilders helped evacuate us out of the shelter. It's for safety, because Roseland bomb planes are coming to Memphis. We loaded the buses, but they filled so quickly we had to ride in a van.

Apple Brook was thick with smoke, but Car City had built real bomb shelters there. I opened the door of the one we will share with the Jackson's. It was solid concrete but has bunk beds, a table, a couch, a gas stove, and a bathroom.

January 3, 1991

Today it was sielent. No bombs. No guns. No sirens.

The radio broadcasters said the war was over. We walked to our house. At least, what was left of our house. Half
of it had burned. Everything inside it was burned or stolen. Windows were broken, the roof had caved in, and the air around it smelled bad.

There was nothing to do but turn and walk back to our bomb shelter. So that is what we did.

January 5, 1991

I wrote this date but nothing followed it. The story died here. Maybe because I knew a decent amount about wars and refugees from the news, but knew nothing about war recovery.

The second half of this notebook contains a story, also unfinished, about Hope Leida's childhood.