Star Wars 1. Chapter 1

_Date: 11/13/51_

_Today Olivia gave me this journal. She is my teacher, my guide. She told me to keep this book to record new things I learn every day, like big words and math._

_Mum is helping a lot. She is helping me write neatly and spell correctly 'cuz when I do it without Mum's help Owen calls it 'scribble-scrabble.' He's one to talk. He's ten and I'm six, and I write better than he does!_

_What is it that Mum always says when she's acting impalight? (I don't know how to spell the word, but I'm pretty sure it means 'rude.' Mum isn't much of a help. She said to spell it like it sounds.) Oh yeah. Where are my manners? I'm Ben, Ben Kenobi. 'Least, that's what they call me. Mum says that when I was very small I couldn't say my real name, Obi-Wan, only Ben, so that's what they called me._

_My dad, Eoin, is a pilot. He flies for the Republic fleece, I think. No, not the fleece, the fleet. Sorry. Dad has dark hair like Owen and eyes same as mine and Olivia's. His hands are ginormous and super rough, like hard leather, from working with tools and hot metal from day to day. At first glance, one might describe Eoin Kenobi as 'brusque,' 'gruff,' or 'brisk,' but once you got to know him you'd know he's the bestest dad ever._

_My mum, Arwena, is an ambassador. People are constantly calling her a politician, but she always corrects them. Apparently, she's something called an active diplomat, the kind of person who is on neither side of a fight and tries to solve it in the simplest, most beneficial way possible. Mum has long hair, the same color as mine and Olivia's, and green eyes like Owen. _

_I want to be like both Mum and Dad when I grow up._

_I have a brother and a sister, Owen and Olivia. Owen is ten, but acts half that age most of the time, so in maturity I'm about a year ahead of him. Olivia is sixteen, and the bestest older sister ever. As in, bestest EVER. The other children grumble sometimes about how their elder siblings coddle them or shun them; but not Olivia. If it weren't for Olivia, I wouldn't have this journal in the first place._

_Anyway, I gotta dash. Dad's bringing out the new engine for the modifications on his latest ship. Mum probably won't approve, but who cares?_

_-OW'B'K_

Anakin stared apprehensively and disbelievingly at the leaf of flimsy folded betwixt his fingers. Surely coming into Obi-Wan's room didn't guarantee finding some extremely personal sheet of flimsiplast.

No, this couldn't be a note from a six-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi... it would have to be at least thirty years old for that. This was well cared for, not the slightest hint of yellowing at the edges. A sheet of flimsy would not last that long...

...unless that journal spoken of in the note was real and this was a collection of notes over time.

If so, he absolutely _had _to find the other sheets.

He thrust a hand under the bed, groping around for anything resembling a sheet of thirty-year-old flimsy. His hand landed on a sock, a ribbon, a variety of things that shall not be named here, and another sock.

And then he felt the small booklet with the parchment cover.

He slowly drew it out, flipping the pages experimentally. The smell of parchment treated his nose.

Huh. He thought a thirty-year-old notebook would have more of a 'Walking Dead Word Corpse' smell. Not that he'd ever smelled a Walking Dead Word Corpse.

He ran back to his small room, taking the notebook with him. Obi-Wan wouldn't notice that this notebook was gone, would he...

...unless, of course, he wrote in it regularly.

Anakin shrugged, deciding quickly to read some of the notebook today then return it. His curiosity had been piqued, and when the Force's Chosen One was curious, there was no stopping him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Date: 11/14/51_

_Yesterday I learned how to fix a hyperdrive. It was actually kwite (Mum? Help?) easy, cuz Dad was helping._

_Mum still doesn't approve of us using 'her shed' as a workplace. Owen protested, saying that that was the whole reason we had that old shed in the first place. Olivia, the piece-keeper (hopefully I used the right one there) as usual, said that one third of the shed could be a workplace, another third could be her gardening area, and the remaining third could be a place where we could eat Nimya's bread._

_I guess I should explain Nimya. She's just a few months older than me- meaning she's seven now, while I'm just six. She's the local baker's dotter (Mum...), but in my opinion she makes better bread than her mum and dad combined, and I should know, because she brings us a loaf of the baker's bageta bread for the family every day, and always gives me the bread she baked specially for me. She's extremely pretty- no, scratch that- she's beautiful. Long, black hair that turns reddish-brown in the sunlight. Bright, smart eyes._

_Yesterday she visited, giving me her bread. I love her bread. Crisp and crackly on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. They have some kind of animal in their farm as well, which gives a kind of milk which they use for a spread. Nimya introdused (Mum, please...) me to this spread, which they call 'butter,' apparently. Her mum is from a far off planet where they have these animals which give the delishis spread._

_We spoke for a while, whlie Owen was preoccupied with flirting with Nimya's ten-year-old cousin from the planet at the commercial (thanks Mum) center of the Galaxy, Coruscant, who is apparently visiting. I don't know what flirting means. Mum says it's basically the start of what happens when a guy and a girl get together and do mushy stuff. Ew._

_So, I learned to build a hyperdrive. I got bread. Pretty much an uneventful two days. I'll write more tomorrow._

_-OW'B'K_

Anakin gazed at the paper before him, astonished. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi who seemed soulless and boring at times, had had a childhood of hyperdrives, misspellings, and bakers' daughters.

Or, in particular, a baker's daughter named Nimya. Who, quite frankly, reminded Anakin of someone...

He smiled fondly as he reread the frequent language errors his Master had infused into his notes. The Obi-Wan- or rather, Ben- was not the same stoic Jedi he was now.

Said stoic Jedi poked his head into Anakin's room. Anakin hurriedly snapped the notebook shut and thrust it under his bed.

_So much for reading a little then putting it back._

"Come on, Anakin," said Obi-Wan. "We have a meeting with a Nabooian Senator to attend."

**I wonder if anyone caught the irony of the flirting tidbit? And YES, I just paired Obi-Wan up with an OC...**

**BTDubs, my NANOWRIMO COLLAB novel, Daebreak, will be published in March or before if all goes well. For a summary and excerpt, visit my profile page.**

**Bye! This will be my last update on any of our stories before Thanksgiving, so happy T-Day to everyone! I am thankful for all your lovely reviews!**


End file.

Star Wars, Angst, Drama