I thought I’d better try to get back into Mum and Dad’s good books the old-fashioned way – by sucking up. That meant I had one of the worst Sundays of my life (and I once spent a whole Sunday de-gunking Uncle Rory’s sink, so I know what I’m talking about).
I started by doing the washing-up and drying-up, then I washed Dad’s car – WITHOUT BEING ASKED. To be honest, that’s the best bad job there is. You get to use the hose and if next door’s dog happens to walk past (which it always does) then it turns into target practice. After that I mowed the lawn, raked up leaves and even set the table for dinner – all of this without being asked! I’ve never worked so hard in all my life. Being good is exhausting. No wonder being bad’s all the rage.
By the time we’d finished dinner I was so tired I couldn’t even be bothered to argue with ELLIE over what we watched on TV. And believe me, that’s a big deal because isn’t bad – it’s ABSOLUTELY AWFUL! And it has the most annoying theme tune ever:
It gets stuck in your head and by the time we’d finished watching SIX episodes I decided it was time for bed. Just as I was heading for the stairs, Mum stopped me. She’d noticed how much I’d been trying to make up for my behaviour and said I could have my bike back tomorrow.
I was so happy that as I climbed the stairs I started to sing, but I realised I wasn’t singing anything cool, like X-WING – I was singing the theme tune! As if it wasn’t bad enough that I knew all the words to See what being good does to your brain? I decided to change the words to the song to make it better …
What am I thinking? Nothing could make better.
While I was getting ready for bed I spotted the five-pound note on my dressing table next to this diary. Something’s going on here, but I don’t know what. I decided to write this entry to try and figure out when the diary changes things.
THINGS CHANGED WHEN:
I knew what I wanted to say to BRAD and CLAUDIA
I wished I’d revised for my maths test
I wanted to have written a poem for Gran.
But it DIDN’T change anything when:
I wanted other people to forget I was naughty at school
I wanted to turn my sister into a poodle or turn my dad green.
I’ve spent ages thinking about it, and I MAY have figured it out. I THINK I can only change the things I’ve said and done (or not said and done). I can’t change what other people have said and done, or what they think.
I suppose that makes sense. This is my diary so it can only change the things I do and say.
If this is right, then last time I wished for the wrong things – my wishes were all about other people. Instead I need to write about ME. So here goes …
I, FIN SPENCER, should never have tried to write on the walls.
I, FIN SPENCER, should never have misbehaved in lessons.
I, FIN SPENCER, should never have started a food fight.
I, FIN SPENCER, should never have worn an X-WING T-shirt and trainers to school.
I, FIN SPENCER, should never have been mean to JOSH at school, even though sometimes he deserves it!
In fact, on Friday I, FIN SPENCER, should have been the best-behaved boy any teacher had ever seen.
RIGHT! That’s it. I’m off to bed. Let’s see if this diary works its magic tonight. I can’t really believe I’m trusting a diary to sort out my life. I’ll have to think about punching myself in the face if this still doesn’t work.
Okay, remember what I wrote yesterday about punching myself in the face? I didn’t mean it. Because when I got into the kitchen this morning Mum and Dad still remembered what had happened at school last week. To be honest, that was better than it could have been. At least I wasn’t in any more trouble. I could have come downstairs to find out I was being blamed for something else entirely. That has happened before. Sometimes I think I cause trouble in my sleep.
Anyway, for whatever reason, the diary hadn’t worked. I’m stupider than a fish on roller-skates for thinking that it would.
Maybe it was more complicated than I’d thought. Magic probably is. But it wasn’t all bad news. Mum has freed my bike from the shed and to say I am excited is an understatement.
It was just in the nick of time too, because I remembered JOSH and I were supposed to be practising our big stunt in the playground after school. Hopefully some of my fincredibleness will rub off on him.
As Mum was handing my bike over she arched an eyebrow and said that this didn’t mean everything was forgotten, but if I kept behaving like I had this weekend then I might get to go to the concert on Saturday.
X-WING is back on and Mum and Dad have definitely got tickets. I was so pleased I could have kissed them both. I could have, but I didn’t.
That had put me in such a good mood that I even took an interest in the ‘Kids Say the Sweetest Things’ cartoon that Dad was reading. There was a picture of a reeeeeally long sausage dog walking down the street and that snot-nosed kid was back. This time he was pointing at the dog and saying, ‘Wowzer, Daddy! That dog must have eaten a lot of sausages to look like that!’
I even pretended to find it funny and laughed out loud. Maybe I overdid it a bit. Dad looked at me like I’d gone mad and said, ‘It’s not that funny!’
OH, COME ON! I know it’s not that funny. It’s never that funny. I’ve been trying to tell both my parents that for the past five years but that hasn’t stopped them laughing like hyenas every morning, has it? What do you have to do to please these people? I just don’t get grown-ups.
The X-WING advert was still there, only it was now covered with a huge SOLD OUT banner.
Luckily Mum and Dad have already got tickets so as long as I don’t do anything stupid I’ll be there!
At school, after I’d chained up my bike in the bike sheds, I went into class and checked with JOSH that we were still on for stunt practice later. He gave me a double thumbs-up and pointed to the guitar case propped up against the chair. Then he said that over the weekend his mum had had a great idea – his sister, MEGAN, plays the tuba and he thought it would be great if she could be involved in the talent-show stunt-jumping too.
I COULDN’T BELIEVE MY EARS. There is nothing stuntboy OR rock star about a tuba-trumping girl. Seriously, no matter how well you play the tuba it sounds like you’re doing a fart. Sometimes JOSH gets it sooo wrong! No, scratch that. JOSH ALWAYS gets it sooo wrong. He’s just lucky I’m always here to help him out.
I told him there was no way MEGAN and her tuba were being in my talent show-act. He muttered that it wasn’t MY talent-show act, it was OUR talent-show act. That may be true, but it was my idea. I made him promise to tell MEGAN she wasn’t needed and then the bell rang for lessons.
I could definitely do with a better best mate.
Apart from that, school was fine. It seemed like all the apologies I’d made last week had paid off. In class, Mrs Johnson gave me the old ‘new week, new start’ speech that she usually reserves for BRAD RADLEY, and I promised to work hard and not get into trouble. She nodded and said, ‘We’ll hear no more about it,’ which we all know is teacher-speak for ‘Cross me again and I’ll drag this up to haunt you in an instant!’ As I was taking my seat she said,
The whole class started to laugh and I was so embarrassed that my face went redder than a baboon’s bum.
After school JOSH met me by the bike rack to practise our stunt. MEGAN turned up too. Because JOSH is technically my assistant I made him drag a couple of bricks and some planks of wood out into the middle of the playground so I could get my jumping right.
I had a go at persuading JOSH’s sister to lie down so I could jump over her, but she refused. When I told her she couldn’t play her farty tuba, she just sat next to her massive tuba case and sulked. JOSH unpacked his guitar and slung it over his shoulder. I was psyching myself up when JOSH started to tune the thing. I gave him a look and he stopped. This stunt needed total concentration. I was just starting my run up when JOSH began playing his guitar. It sounded like someone stranglin
g an octopus. I did my best to block it out, but then JOSH started doing all of these weird rock-star poses, jumping in the air, falling to his knees, something he called ‘the windmill’ …
I was so distracted that I missed the jump entirely and crashed into a tree. JOSH asked if that was supposed to happen. NO, IT WAS NOT! He was supposed to be my backing guitarist. Backing guitarists did not do ‘the windmill’. Backing guitarists stood in one place and let the star of the show get on with it.
We were just about to have another go when JOSH asked about the talent-show prize and who was going to keep it. It turns out that he’s broken his phone and would quite like a new one. I told him that as I was doing the dangerous bit of the stunt I should keep it. He could have the trophy. JOSH wasn’t happy. He thought that his part was quite dangerous too – apparently I’d nearly run him over. I tried to explain that I wouldn’t have nearly run him over if he’d stayed in one place like a normal person, but he wasn’t listening. He thought we should split the prize. HOW DO YOU SPLIT A PHONE?
JOSH can be so stupid sometimes. I told him that we’d think of something (which he doesn’t seem to know is Fin-speak for ‘I’ll keep it!’) and had another go at the jump.
I was about to ride over the planks when this massive
came out of nowhere. I was so startled I crashed into the tree again. As I was picking myself up I saw JOSH’s sister laughing at me. She was holding her tuba. It turns out MEGAN is just as annoying as JOSH. I called our practice to a halt and headed home.
JOSH was lucky I was even letting him be in my talent-show act and now he wants to keep the prize too! I was the one risking life and limb! I should have told JOSH that I didn’t want him in my act, and have been done with it. I should have told him that he’s nothing but the guitar-playing assistant. ANYBODY could do that job, and if he thinks he’s going to get his fingers on that phone then he’s got another think coming! JOSH needs to pay more attention and do things my way. I’m the star here!
Let’s hope I can knock him into shape tomorrow, before I knock myself into another tree.
So today did not go exactly to plan. When I got to school this morning I saw JOSH by the lockers, obviously trying to avoid me. From the look on his face I could tell that he was upset. It’s harder to upset JOSH than you might think, by the way, as JOSH doesn’t really show his emotions. When you’ve been best buddies for as long as we have, though, you get to notice little things. His nostrils were twitching like a bunny in a carrot factory. That meant he was upset.
I soon found out why. It seemed like this diary had decided to work again! Everything I wrote down last night about what I should have told JOSH was exactly what he thought I had told him. So he remembers me telling him that I was the star, that he should do as I say and that I was keeping the phone when we won. Which is all true, of course. I suppose the diary just saved me the effort of having to tell him to his face – which I would never have done …
Apparently, JOSH thinks that I’ve turned into a real bossy boots and I’m far too demanding. Well, excuse me for wanting to get something right for once! JOSH has decided to enter the talent show on his own and win the phone by himself … and we’re not best friends any more. Which, quite frankly, is a relief. He’s been dragging me down for far too long. And as for winning the talent show? DON’T MAKE ME LAUGH! What’s he going to do – a Dweeb Dance? He doesn’t stand a chance against a stuntboy like me!
As I went into registration BRAD RADLEY appeared. He’d seen everything that had just happened and thought JOSH was throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime. BRAD knew my talent-show stunt was going to be so fincredible there was no point in anyone else even entering. BRAD RADLEY was right. Then it struck me – BRAD RADLEY usually is right, it’s just that in the past I was being too much of a loser to listen. Kids like me could learn a lot from kids like BRAD. They show us our faults so we can do better next time. BRAD doesn’t deserve a detention, he deserves a medal. Besides, since I gave him that talking to, he’s been much nicer. At least some people can take criticism, unlike others I could mention – JOSH DOYLE.
BRAD offered to take JOSH’s place in my talent-show stunt. He said it would be an honour and a privilege to be a part of something so fincredible and he promised he would stand at the side and play the guitar. What’s more, he said I could keep the phone for myself when we won because he’d already got one. THINGS CAN’T GET ANY BETTER. With BRAD on my side I can’t lose! We agreed to practise after school.
All through lessons JOSH gave me the cold shoulder. So childish. I gave him the cold shoulder right back.
After lunch we had art class. We’d been making vases out of clay for the past six weeks. We’d designed them, moulded them and then put them in the kiln. Today it was finally time to decorate them. CLAUDIA RONSON’s vase was amazing. Mine was less good, but at least it was better than JOSH’s, which looked like a poo from a very ill dog.
Anyway, art is one of those really cool classes where the teacher, Mrs Skiffington, lets you talk while you’re working. My workbench was right in front of CLAUDIA’s and everybody was busy decorating their vases (or dog poos if your name is JOSH DOYLE). BRAD and I started talking about how great the talent show was going to be. BRAD asked me what JOSH was going to do now that he wasn’t in my act. I laughed and said he’d probably do a Dweeb Dance. BRAD didn’t know what a Dweeb Dance was. Nor did I really but I decided to show him anyway! I started to wiggle my bum and wave my arms about like a street-dancing scarecrow.
I was really getting into it and took a step back to make more room when I accidentally bumped into CLAUDIA’s workbench. Her vase started to wobble. Everything seemed to go into slow motion, like in one of those late-night horror movies I’m not supposed to watch.
At first I thought it was going to be all right. But it wasn’t. CLAUDIA’s vase toppled off the bench. I jumped to catch it but missed and knocked the workbench again. This sent all of CLAUDIA’s friends’ vases flying too.
Before I knew it, the floor was covered in broken pottery and CLAUDIA was staring at me like I’d just kicked a puppy. I tried to make things better by saying she could have my vase instead, but for some reason she didn’t want it.
Mrs Skiffington gave me a dustpan and brush and made me clear up the mess. As I was putting CLAUDIA’s and her friends’ broken vases in the bin, Mrs Skiffington announced that from now on there would be no talking in class so that we could concentrate and avoid any more accidents. GREAT. Now everybody else in the class was angry with me too.
One thing is for certain, CLAUDIA definitely doesn’t think I’m FINCREDIBLE FIN now.
At least things got better after school. BRAD is soooo much better than JOSH at playing the guitar. I didn’t crash into a tree once and BRAD stood exactly where I told him, playing exciting bits during the run-up and shouting ‘FIN THE FINCREDIBLE’ whenever I did something cool – which was ALL THE TIME! He even filmed it on his phone so we could see where I was going wrong – which was NOWHERE!
By the time practice was over I was clearing the jump every time. This is going to be brilliant. I don’t know why BRAD and I weren’t friends ages ago! He’s coming over to my house tomorrow night to practise some more.
The only bad thing about the day was smashing the vases. I wish I hadn’t broken them. If I knew for certain how this diary worked then I might be able to fix them, but I don’t. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. I know it only changes things I’ve said or done, but then when I said I wished I hadn’t done all those things last week, nothing changed … I’m going to have another read back through what I’ve written and see if I can figure it out. My future marriage to CLAUDIA RONSON depends on it.
Well, maybe not. But it’d be nice to be able to ask her to the school disco or something.
It’s now two hours later and I think I may have worked out the diary! Every time it has changed things it’s been when I’ve written what I wished I’d said or done ON THE DAY that I’ve done it! It d
oesn’t seem to work when I’ve left it for a while. So it didn’t work with all the school stuff because I tried to fix it three days later.
If I’m right, these are
The diary only changes the things I say and do or wished I’d said and done
It only changes things if I write about what I wish I’d done ON THE DAY they happen
Diaries are still for losers. It’s only this one that’s cool.
So if I’m right, I can still try to change what happened with the vases today. Here goes.
Diary, I shouldn’t have demonstrated the Dweeb Dance in art class. If I hadn’t done that then I wouldn’t have knocked over CLAUDIA’s vase and she might still be talking to me. Well, not talking to me exactly, but at least she wouldn’t think I was a vase murderer.
Come on, diary. I’M COUNTING ON YOU.
This morning I was so excited to see if the Fincredible Diary Rules were right that I skipped breakfast and went to school early. I was so early I even managed to arrive before the nerds. To be honest I didn’t really fancy breakfast anyway. It’s hard to get excited about a cereal that tastes of hedges.
Besides, I had to find out if CLAUDIA’s vase was miraculously back in one piece or not. If it wasn’t she’d always think of me as a pesky pottery pulveriser – and try saying that three times fast!
When I got into the art room – guess what?!! The vase was back on the shelf looking better than ever, and so were all her friends’ vases. The diary had worked its magic again! I took CLAUDIA’s vase down to check for cracks – it was perfect! I gave it a little kiss before I put it back on the shelf.
The Fincredible Diary of Fin Spencer Page 4
