We squealed in excitement and held our breath as she stooped, inserted her key, and opened the large bottom panel of the mailbox. CLICK! I slowly peeked inside and . . .
. . . NEARLY FAINTED IN DESPAIR, RIGHT ON TOP OF THAT EMPTY MAILBOX!!
“I’m sorry, ladies! This mailbox is empty!” the nice lady said. “And even IF your invitations WERE in here, Joe probably has them in his truck by now. He picks up twice a day. Maybe he will feel sorry for you and bend the rules as well if he hears your story. He has a daughter your age!”
Zoey read the pickup schedule on the front of the box and tapped her chin. “It says ‘Last pickup at 4:00 p.m.’ So where is Joe right now?”
The mail lady looked at her watch. “Well, he usually takes a late lunch at Crazy Burger right after he picks up here. It’s 4:45 now, so he might be there another fifteen minutes. Then he drops off mail at the main office. You don’t have much time, so you really should get going!”
Chloe, Zoey, and I squealed happily and thanked the mail lady for all her help.
“I really hope you find those invitations! Good luck, ladies!” She waved.
My BFFs and I practically ran the entire three blocks to Crazy Burger. Once we arrived, we desperately scanned the parking lot for Joe’s mail truck. Until . . .
. . . WE FINALLY SPOTTED THE TRUCK!
“There it is!” I screamed happily. We did a group hug and high-fived each other. But when we turned around just seconds later . . .
. . . THE TRUCK PULLED OUT OF THE PARKING SPACE AND TOOK OFF, WITH US IN HOT PURSUIT!
“STOOOOP!! PLEASE STOP!” we shouted.
In spite of the fact that we chased him across the entire parking lot, screaming like our hair was on fire, apparently Joe didn’t see us.
“WHAT are we going to do NOW?!” I groaned.
“How about we order a triple cheeseburger with extra-large fries and a lemonade from Crazy Burger?” Chloe answered. “I’m STARVING!”
“Chloe, HOW can you be thinking of a BURGER at a time like THIS?” Zoey muttered.
“Sorry! Skip the burger!” Chloe said. “How about we order a CHICKEN or FISH sandwich?”
“Wait a minute! Didn’t the mail lady say something about Joe returning to the main post office? It’s just four blocks west of here. Maybe we still have a chance!” I said as we took off running again.
The post office closes at 5:00 p.m., and it was 4:59 as we dashed up the sidewalk toward the main door. I could not believe we made it! . . .
. . . JUST SECONDS TOO LATE! THE POST OFFICE HAD CLOSED!
Of course I had a complete MELTDOWN right there at the front door.
AAAAAAAAHHH! (That was me SCREAMING!!)
There was nothing else we could do. The invitations were gone! I felt SO helpless!
In the next forty-eight hours, one hundred guests would be getting birthday invitations to a party that had been canceled. And now I didn’t have a choice but to publicly HUMILIATE myself by CANCELING it. . . .
AGAIN !
AAAAAAAAHHH! (That was me SCREAMING a second time!!)
“I’m SO sorry, Nikki!” Chloe apologized again.
“You’re obviously really upset, Nikki. We need to get you home right away!” Zoey said gently.
“So she can calm down and get some rest?” Chloe asked.
“No! Before she SCREAMS again and gets us ARRESTED for disturbing the peace!” Zoey replied. “That security camera is watching us!”
Suddenly Chloe froze and stared at her cell phone in shock. “My mom must have finally gotten my phone message because she just texted me.”
“It doesn’t matter now! It’s too late!” I whined.
Chloe read the text out loud. It said:
Hi, hon! Don’t worry about the party invitations. They’re NOT lost! Your dad dropped them off at the mail room in his office building. Luv you!
Of course that was really great news ! We excitedly rushed two blocks west to the office building where Mr. Garcia worked.
Unfortunately, the building’s mail room had also closed at 5:00 p.m. JUST GREAT !
I was SO exhausted! I wanted to give up and go home! But Chloe insisted on showing us a cool little mail room trick that she had discovered when she was a little girl. . . .
CHLOE, SHOWING US A TRICK?!
I had to admit, sneaking into the mail room through the package chute was a BRILLIANT idea ! . . .
MY BFFS AND ME, SNEAKING INTO THE MAIL ROOM!
“Quick! Grab one of those orange vests and put it on!” Chloe whisper-shouted. “That way we can try to blend in!”
We each put on a vest and then just stared at the place in AWE with our mouths hanging open!
Chloe explained that this was the mail room for fifty businesses that had offices located in the ten-floor building complex, including her dad’s.
OMG! There had to be thousands of pieces of mail in that room. How were we ever going to find my party invitations?!
Thank goodness, most of the mail room workers had already gone home for the day.
We managed to completely avoid the people still there by HIDING behind big stacks of boxes, DIVING into carts piled with packages, and DUCKING between shelves lined with letters.
We’d been searching for almost an hour when . . .
CHLOE, STUMBLING UPON THE INVITES!
OMG! We were SO happy and relieved that this HORRIBLE ordeal was finally over that we almost burst into TEARS!!
We grabbed the invites and headed straight for the exit door, running as fast as we could! . . .
MY BFFS AND ME, RUNNING FOR THE DOOR!
“I can’t believe we actually found the party invitations!” I huffed.
“It took teamwork and brains to track them down!” Zoey puffed. “We were AWESOME!”
“It would have been a DISASTER if they had actually gotten mailed out!” Chloe added. “Like, WHO makes a stupid mistake like that?! Not US!”
“Only complete IDIOTS!” we laughed.
Unfortunately, we were so busy running, talking, and laughing, we didn’t see a mail room worker. At the very last second, we tried to stop!
But Chloe accidentally crashed into Zoey.
Zoey accidentally crashed into me.
And I accidentally crashed into the mail room guy.
Then all FOUR of us accidentally crashed into . . .
THE MAIL CART!! . . .
MY BFFS AND ME, RUNNING INTO TROUBLE ON OUR WAY OUT OF THE BUILDING!
It was SURREAL!
Everyone lay sprawled out on the floor as business letters, postcards, and party invitations seemed to rain down from the ceiling.
“OMG! WH-WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” Zoey sputtered as she struggled to her feet.
She reached down and pulled up a slightly disoriented Chloe. Then Zoey grabbed my arm and helped me stand up on my wobbly legs.
“I think we accidentally collided with the mail room worker!” I muttered.
“WHAT mail room worker?!” Zoey asked.
“THAT ONE!” Chloe said, pointing at the poor guy.
We gasped! He lay motionless, buried beneath a huge pile of letters AND the mail cart. . . .
WE FINALLY NOTICE THE MAIL ROOM GUY!
That’s when the three of us started to panic.
“OMG! WE JUST KILLED THE MAIL ROOM GUY!!” Chloe shrieked. “Now we’re thieves and MURDERERS!”
“Guys! This is really BAD! I feel like I’ve seen something exactly like this before!” I said.
“On one of those CSI crime shows?!” Zoey asked.
“NO! In THE WIZARD OF OZ!” I answered. “It looks like a tornado hit the mail room and clobbered this poor guy with a HOUSE! Just like that WITCH!”
“Except WE’RE the tornado!” Zoey said. “What should we do now?”
“Um . . . steal his shoes and WISH ourselves home like Dorothy did?” Chloe shrugged.
Thank goodness, the mail room guy wasn’t DEAD. How did I know?
Because he moved his leg and gr
oaned, “Hey! Who turned out the lights?!”
I felt kind of sorry for the guy.
One minute he was happily whistling show tunes as he worked, and the next he was knocked into tomorrow by a pack of psychotic birthday-party-obsessed girls.
We lifted the mail cart off him and quickly bolted out of the room.
However, before we left, we took one last peek through the mail room window to see if there was any chance WHATSOEVER of us getting our hands on those invitations again.
But they were loose, scattered, and completely mixed in with the mail in that humongous cart. Our situation was HOPELESS! . . .
CHLOE, ZOEY, AND ME, LOOKING FOR MY INVITATIONS!
In spite of all our valiant efforts, my invitations got mailed out.
AAAAAAAAHHH! (That was me SCREAMING again!)
Thanks to Chloe, my birthday party was ACCIDENTALLY back on again !
I didn’t think things could get any worse!
But on the way home Chloe, Zoey, and I got into a big argument about WHO was going to break the bad news to our one hundred closest friends that the party was NOT happening.
Sorry, but that sounded like the responsibility of my social director (Chloe) and my activities director (Zoey).
NOT the birthday girl (ME)!
There was only one thing worse than having to CANCEL my birthday party due to financial issues!
And that was having to CANCEL it TWICE because my invites ACCIDENTALLY got mailed out!
!!
NOTE TO SELF: Instead of completely humiliating myself and canceling my party, I should search the attic for Dad’s old CLOWN SUIT that he wore to my birthday party when I was a little kid.
Even though the backside is probably badly burned, I could always put on the costume and run away to JOIN the CIRCUS!
I’m totally qualified for a job as a CLOWN because my LIFE is LAUGHABLE and everything I do is a TOTAL JOKE !!
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18
Okay, this is probably going to be the LONGEST diary entry EVER!
A lot happened today, and I want to include all the details.
But I’ll probably get a cramp in my hand if I try to write down everything at once.
This morning I woke up to the wonderful aroma of something baking.
It smelled like Mom’s yummy, hot, buttered cinnamon rolls drizzled with frosting.
Only . . . three times BETTER!!
Since I was really hungry, I jumped out of bed, got dressed, and rushed downstairs to the kitchen.
But I stopped in my tracks when I saw a sign in the hall sloppily scribbled in crayon. It said . . .
JUST GREAT ! I guess I WON’T be having any warm, tasty, freshly baked cinnamon rolls.
Unfortunately, whenever Miss Bri-Bri shows up, the ONLY thing I get a TASTE of is doom, gloom, and destruction !
As much as I hated the thought, I didn’t have a choice but to take control of the situation and confront her. BEFORE the COPS got involved!
Since Dad had to repaint the entire kitchen ceiling last week due to the damage from Brianna’s sardine sandwich, we’ve made an extra effort to make sure she’s ALWAYS supervised during her little cooking projects.
She’s also not supposed to touch the appliances and other potentially dangerous items in the kitchen, including the spoons.
You’d be SHOCKED by how much damage my bratty little sister can do with a single spoon.
I’ve told Brianna a MILLION times never to put metal in a microwave!
But did she listen?
Repairing the charred black hole in the wall and replacing the microwave cost Mom and Dad a FORTUNE!
It was quite obvious to me that the sneaky little wannabe chef was trying to COOK UP trouble while we were all still asleep.
Brianna had decorated the kitchen with drawings of cookies and cupcakes and placed her kiddie-sized Princess Sugar Plum Teatime table and chairs in a corner.
She had also added her doll-sized table and chairs for extra seating.
Her dolls and stuffed animals sat at both tables, which were set with Mom’s expensive china and fresh flowers from the backyard.
I was actually quite impressed. Her little pretend café almost looked like a miniature version of the CupCakery.
Brianna—I mean, Miss Bri-Bri—wore a cute pink apron with ruffles and bows, and a snarly frown on her face just like that mean British chef guy on TV who LOVES to yell at everyone.
However, as soon as she saw me, she quickly switched into “happy hostess” mode and plastered a huge smile across her face. . . .
“Welcome to Miss Bri-Bri’s French Bakery and Café,” she said, “home of Miss Bri-Bri, famous pastry chef to zee stars!”
“Brianna! WHAT are you doing?” I said, with my hands on my hips. “You know you’re not allowed to cook in here ALONE. Especially after you blew up our second microwave and plastered your sardine sandwich on the ceiling!”
“I do not know zis Brianna that you speak of, dah-ling,” she said, all snottylike. “And WHO might you be? Do you have a reservation?”
“I don’t need a reservation!” I shot back. “I live here, and I’m your sister! DUH!”
“I believe you are confused, Miss Duh. I am an only child, and YOU are a CRANKY stranger! We have a strict no-cranky-strangers-allowed policy here in my café. I cannot have you scaring away zee customers. I will, however, check zee reservation list for you, Miss Duh.”
Miss Bri-Bri flipped through her notepad.
“I see Barbie, Ken, Princess Sugar Plum, Doc McStuffins, Sparkle zee Poodle, Princess Shuri, and My Pretty Polly doll. But no Miss Duh,” she said. “I am very sorry, dah-ling, but zee restaurant is completely booked today. So I must ask you to leave. Did you not see zee sign? It says ‘RESERVATIONS ONLY!’ ”
She pointed at one of her signs taped on the wall behind me. . . .
“Really?! In what LANGUAGE?! I can’t read your SLOPPY handwriting!” I complained. “And your spelling is terrible!”
“Well, excuse moi ! Miss Bri-Bri eez a pastry chef, NOT a spelling bee champion,” she huffed. “Anyway, zee rules are zee rules. If you’d like, I can put your name on zee waiting list. We might have an open table in about, um . . .” Miss Bri-Bri squinted and tapped her chin in thought.
“Well? How long?” I asked, slightly annoyed. “Ten minutes? Twenty minutes?”
“No! Longer than that. Can’t you see I’m VERY, VERY busy?!” she exclaimed.
“Okay, then. ONE hour?!” I asked impatiently.
She sighed deeply and rolled her eyes at me.
Then she quickly scribbled something on her notepad, tore off the sheet of paper, and handed it to me. “HERE is your reservation time! Your table will be ready and waiting for you. Until then, GOOD-BYE, Miss Duh!” She smirked.
What LOUSY service! It took FOREVER just to get a reservation at this place!
And the café wasn’t even that busy.
But when I realized how LONG I had to wait for a table, I was totally DISGUSTED! . . .
“WHAT?! Are you kidding me?!” I grumbled.
“Can’t you read zee reservation card?! It says I’ll have a table for you in THREE MONTHS! You will come back then, yes? Now GOOD-BYE!” Miss Bri-Bri said, shooing me out of my OWN kitchen like I was an annoying FLY or something.
There was NO WAY I was leaving her a TIP!
Okay, my hand is starting to cramp. And I need a snack. I’ll try to finish this story tomorrow. !!
THURSDAY, JUNE 19
When I left off, Miss Bri-Bri had just informed me that I had to wait a ridiculous THREE MONTHS for a table at her café.
Obviously, this was very upsetting news to me.
“THREE MONTHS?!” I shouted. “What kind of a shoddy café is this?! NO WAY! I’m staying right here to keep an eye on you!” I yelled. “Don’t make me wake up MOM and DAD!”
“Calm down, PLEASE! No need to get THEM involved, dah-ling! Let me see what I can do!” Miss Bri-Bri said nervously.
&n
bsp; She flipped through her notepad again and looked at the guests seated at her tables.
“Ah! You are in luck, Miss Duh! A reservation has just been canceled! Please follow me to your table!”
I glared at her. I didn’t trust that lady at all.
Miss Bri-Bri snatched her doll out of a seat and carelessly tossed it over her shoulder. . . .
A TABLE SUDDENLY BECOMES AVAILABLE!
Yeah, right! HOW was I supposed to sit in such a teeny-tiny chair?!
“Thanks, but I’d rather sit on the floor,” I said.
“Suit yourself, dah-ling!” she answered, obviously annoyed with me. “Now, here is your delicious appetizer. Bon appétit!”
Miss Bri-Bri plopped a plate of rubbery, burnt toast in my lap. THAT was NOT an appetizer!
If I just peeled off the crust, it would have made a perfect HOCKEY PUCK!
“Would you like to hear today’s specials? Zee chef (that’s me!) has prepared a PB and J sandwich, made with the world’s finest, chunkiest peanut butter imported from a faraway place called . . . um . . . the grocery store. I also added crushed peanut shells for extra crunchiness!”
I gagged. “No thanks. Is anything on your menu actually edible?”
“I highly recommend Miss Bri-Bri’s famous cupcakes. They’re delicious, dah-ling! But it will be at least an hour before I can make one for you. My oven can only cook small batches at a time with its itty-bitty lightbulb. And right now I’ve got a very special delicacy baking.”
“What is it?” I asked. “Is that what I smell?”
“Just eat your burnt toast—er, I mean appetizer—dah-ling! Then you must leave because I have VIP guests arriving very soon. Now please excuse me while I finish my pastries.”
I watched in amazement as Miss Bri-Bri ran from one counter to the other, rolling out dough, cutting pastries, putting them into her oven, and piping frosting.
She actually looked like a real, fancy French pastry chef.
The incredible thing was that she did it ALL with her new Princess Sugar Plum Lil’ Chef oven that I’d convinced Mom to buy for her. . . .
Dork Diaries 13 Page 5
