Tough-Muffy had threatened me with everything she could think of if I didn't find it: public shame, severe burns, vandalism in my house, and even death. The threats didn't even matter; I was already as scared as I could be from Tough-Muffy. Who wasn't?
Where was that diary? How could Alex hide it so well? Did Alex know I was going to try to take it today?
Around Alex's house I ran, looking for something - anything, that could be the diary. I spotted a little brown box, tucked away in the corner, and dashed over to it. I opened it, and inside was a diary - the diary.
Suddenly the alarm went off. My eyes darted frantically around the room for a place to hide, but found none. I tried to run for it, but I was already handcuffed, and the police were dragging me like a rag doll.