Seven Wonders Journals Read Online Free Page A

foul-smelling medicines that only seemed to make her worse. He fell asleep in the tent I’d pitched before the rest of us were even done setting up camp. He slept, snoring, with Safi in his beefy arms.
    As Father shook us awake, I knew that was what he was thinking, too.
    I could see Father’s breath as well as smell it. He’d obviously stayed up most (or all) of the night, drinking with Gencer. I opened my mouth to speak, but Father put a finger to his lips. His eyes were red and watery, and kept flitting to the opening of our raggedy tent. “Let’s go, children. Lots to do today,” he said, trying to sound cheery.
    Osman groaned. “What time is it?”
    â€œShhh!” Father said. “Uncle Feyyaz is still sleeping. He’s had a rough night. Let’s leave him in peace.”
    Uncle Feyyaz? Yes, Diary, that is what he said. Does Father think I don’t know who Feyyaz is? Honestly, I’ve learned to let Father think he’s fooling me. Sometimes it makes it easier to get what I want. But it was time for him to stop treating us like babies. “ Baba , come on, you don’t really think—” I began.
    Osman slid out of his sleeping bag, yawning.
    â€œEnough. Follow me now, before the Cyclops wakes.” Father scooped up my sleeping bag with a shushing noise and hurried out to his old Jeep, leaving me sitting alone, on the ground, my mouth hanging open. It was the first time I’d ever heard him use that nickname.
    And that is how I ended up here.
    And why my handwriting is so shaky.
    I must stop now. I shouldn’t have written so much. More tomorrow. I am getting Jeepsick . . .
    Thursday, 11:41 P.M.
    C AN ’ T SLEEP AGAIN , Diary. Maybe it was the lingering effects of that horrible Jeep trip. I never want to ride in that godforsaken vehicle again. Gencer and Father sat in front, in the only seats, while Osman and I bundled with the bedrolls and equipment in the back. The roads seemedlike they hadn’t been paved since Harpagus’s empire. When we got out, Osman rubbed his back and groaned like an old man. “That really is a rattrap,” he grumbled.
    Father still looked pale, glancing backward as if Feyyaz might mysteriously fly toward us.
    â€œDon’t worry, Khalid, that one-eyed fool will forget the whole thing the moment he wakes up,” Gencer said, flicking another cigar impatiently to the ground. “Now, let me borrow this rust bucket for a few hours. I’ve got something I have to do.”
    â€œBorrow the Jeep?” Father said wearily. “Why?”
    â€œIt’s called sharing—or am I supposed to buy a Cadillac from what we made yesterday?” Gencer replied, holding out his hand. “And, oh yes, I will need to buy gas, Khalid, unless you plan to push.”
    I glared at the old moocher, but Father just nodded, digging into his pocket.
    As Gencer drove off, he grinned and stuck his tongue out at me, the creep. “Why do you let him boss you around like that?” I said. “Some bravery.”
    Osman glared at me, then put his arm around Father’s shoulder and walked with him into our shack.
    Diary, I felt terrible. What are you doing, Aliyah? I scolded myself. Father was tired. Defeated. I was not helping him by asking embarrassing questions! Feeling guilty, I went inside and fixed some lentil soup and bread. I served themto Father, but he merely nibbled on the bread quietly and left his soup untouched. Finally he stood up and headed for the door, wiping his mouth. “Thank you, but I must go out. For . . . a meeting.”
    â€œYou’ll be back soon, right, Baba ?” Osman asked, eyeing him warily.
    â€œOf course. Take care of your sister,” Father said as he pulled on his coat. Then his eyes briefly met mine. “You take care of your brother, too.”
    We watched him go. Again. To yet another mysterious “meeting.” We were so used to this that it didn’t