by Rachel Vail
I told her if she said that one more time I would take back the truck I gave her, which was what she had wanted for her birthday but nobody got her.
Dad said that was not showing the Hanukkah spirit.
Which is not even a thing, I don’t think.
December 21, Monday
Mr. Calabrio postponed our running-a-mile test until after the holidays so we could practice our dance.
I hope the other grades are better than we are, or nobody will get very holiday cheered, believe me.
Montana C. is coming over tomorrow.
It is not a playdate.
It is to practice our dance for the holiday concert.
I don’t care what Xavier Schwartz and Gianni Schicci say, it is not a playdate.
December 22, Tuesday
It was kind of fun.
The not-playdate with Montana C.
But nobody needs to know that.
We practiced and then we played air hockey in the family room, and then we were allowed to have some screen time. She showed me a shortcut I didn’t know on Atom Blaster and I showed her one she didn’t know, so we both got way further than ever before. Then we had Oreo-eating races.
It was awesome, actually.
Daisy would never shove three Oreos in her mouth at once, no way.
December 23, Wednesday
I didn’t fall off the stage and I didn’t break Montana C.’s foot during the holiday concert. That’s the good news.
Right before we went on, Noah said, “If you get nervous, just imagine all the parents and teachers in their underwear.”
I was nervous already. I yelled at him, “How in the world would it help us if all the parents and teachers were in their underwear?”
Everybody stopped and stood still backstage, and I guess we all tried to picture the parents and teachers in their underwear, and it was horrible and funny at the same time. Daisy started laughing her kind of beeping giggle, which cracked me up and everybody else, too, I guess.
We were laughing straight through our dance, but we got through it. And all the grown-ups kept their clothes on, which, hallelujah, if you know what I mean.
The grand finale was the kindergarten presentation. Elizabeth stood next to Buckey in front. Buckey said, “The grand finale is right ahead!”
Elizabeth took a deep breath.
Nothing came out.
Buckey bumped her with his shoulder.
She took another breath.
Nothing.
Buckey whispered, “And we, the kindergartners, welcome you” to her.
Elizabeth nodded.
She smiled.
She said, “I know, Buckey. Just give me a second to collect myself.”
Everybody laughed.
Elizabeth wiped the hair off her face and said, “Phew.”
Her teacher, my old teacher, the best teacher in the world, Ms. Amara, nodded kindly at Elizabeth from right in front of the stage, and whispered, “You can do it, Elizabeth. I know you can.”
Elizabeth nodded back at Ms. Amara and took another breath.
I slapped myself on the forehead.
Everybody waited.
“And we,” Elizabeth said loud and clear into the microphone, “the kindergartners . . .”
Everybody waited. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daisy smiling her most encouraging smile at my sister. That seemed like a really nice idea so I smiled at Elizabeth, too, and just in time, because her eyes locked onto mine.
“Welcome you!” she finished.
Everybody clapped.
Especially me.
December 24, Thursday
Vacation.
Finally.
My other grandparents, the ones who live in Florida, came today. Ninny and Bop. They are a lot of fun, too, and very, very enthusiastic.
We put up a tree right next to the menorah and Bop played the piano and we all sang Christmas and Hanukkah songs, and some Beatles songs, too, just because Bop likes the Beatles.
Daisy and her family came over for dessert.
Daisy and I put on a show, just for ourselves, with all my stuffties.
We even had marshmallows in our hot chocolates, just like every year.
December 25, Friday
Other than not getting a dog, it was a great Christmas.
So I didn’t mention the dog thing all day, except accidentally twice.
December 26, Saturday
Well, I never expected that.
We do get our biggest Hanukkah presents on the last day, it is true.
But I never expected one this big.
Or this drooly.
December 27, Sunday
I know I begged.
I asked and I begged and I pleaded for a dog.
It will just take me some time to get used to him.
For goodness’ sake, he doesn’t even have a name yet.
And he is so boundy and jumpy and drooly and looking like he wants to gobble me up for dinner-y.
I am no longer so sure it was such a brilliant idea to get a dog.
Maybe Ms. Termini was wrong about my excellent brain and its interesting ideas.
December 28, Monday
Things I Like:
1. Snow, when it falls thick and heavy like today
2. Making a snowman with Noah, even though he gets cold too easily
3. Hot chocolate after making a snowman
Things I Don’t Like:
1. When we have to come inside before we are done making the snowman
2. When a dog jumps up on me and knocks me down when I come inside
3. Drool
December 29, Tuesday
While Elizabeth and Mom went to visit Mom’s cousin Joanie, Dad and I worked at the store together.
Dad called me a malt-ball bagging machine and The Champ.
I even got to work the cash register for an hour, and got three compliments: two about my manners and one about how mature I am.
Dad paid me two crisp dollars, which I put into my cash machine on my top shelf.
I earned those two dollars.
I think I will keep them forever.
December 30, Wednesday
Mom wants to name the dog Fluffy.
Elizabeth wants to name the dog Buckey.
Dad wants to name the dog Slobber.
I just want the dog to calm the heck down.
December 31, Thursday
The plan I knew about was Noah and his family coming over for New Year’s Eve and Noah sleeping over.
The part I didn’t know about was that Montana C. and her family and Daisy and her family were also coming over, because it turned out we were having a New Year’s Eve party.
We put lots of our best candies out in lots of little bowls, and also real food, but luckily no wheat germ so maybe Mom got over that.
When Daisy came over she fell in love with our dog. The dog is calm and sweet with her, is probably why. Her big brother, Wyatt, sat on the couch and texted on his cell phone and frowned at everybody.
We didn’t want to get too near Wyatt, so me, Noah, Daisy, and Montana C. went upstairs to play a game on the computer. Elizabeth and Buckey followed us up there and pretended to be invisible under the desk. Daisy asked me, “What do you want to name the dog, Justin?”
I didn’t want to say, I don’t care because I am afraid of this big white fluffy crazy dog I begged to get, because that would sound so babyish. I stared at my fingers on my computer keyboard and I said, “I want to name him Qwertyuiop.”
Because qwertyuiop is just the top line of letters on the keyboard.
Noah and Daisy and Montana C. all agreed that was an excellent name, and we stayed up until past midnight making posters and collars and decorations for the dog that all said Qwertyuiop on them.
January 1, Friday
Maybe Mom and Dad had too much champagne.
They thought Qwertyuiop was an excellent name.
So now our crazy dog has a matchingly crazy name.
What a way to start a new year.
January 2, Saturday
Qwertyuiop does not get the idea of fetch.
He thinks it means “run around like a lunatic and then knock Justin down with your big muddy paws.”
Hahahahaha, what fun.
January 3, Sunday
It’s not that I am scared of Qwerty.
I played fetch with him.
It was way more than 10 seconds; I don’t care what Elizabeth says.
I just had to run inside and have a little time to myself.
There is a lot more homework to do in third grade than in kindergarten, and a lot of expectation that somebody in the highest reading group will read a lot over vacation.
People who think the only reason a person would want to stay in his room with the door slammed shut is because they are terrified of a huge, bounding, crazy (possibly psychotic and life-threateningly dangerous) dog don’t know much about life in the top reading group.
January 4, Monday
This is the first time I have ever been happy to get back to school after vacation.
Until I saw Xavier Schwartz, who ran over to say hi and knocked me to the ground and then laughed like a lunatic.
I think he may be related in some weird twist of evolution to my dog.
January 5, Tuesday
We have to write about what we did over vacation.
I have thrown away fourteen mess-ups already.
Can’t we just please, for goodness’ sake, move on already? It is a NEW YEAR, people. Let’s not dwell on the past.
I bet everybody else did great stuff over vacation.
I bagged malt balls and got a hyper sack of slobber.
That’s two paragraphs at best.
And they both stink.
January 6, Wednesday
Xavier Schwartz went to Six Flags. He rode the scariest roller coaster on the planet.
Ms. Termini called him “brave.”
Nobody has ever called me brave.
Because I’m not, probably. I’m the opposite.
I’m not just scared of the roller coaster Xavier Schwartz talked about. I’m even scared of Xavier Schwartz.
January 7, Thursday
Ms. Termini called me “funny.”
I am not sure if she meant funny ha-ha or funny weird.
I have a feeling it is not funny ha-ha because she didn’t laugh when I read my paper of What I Did Over Vacation.
What she did was say, “Speak up, please, Justin,” and “We can’t hear you if you mumble, Justin,” and “I am going to ask you one more time to articulate, Justin.”
I finally, finally finished reading my awful homework out loud. Then I stood there, waiting for something to happen. Ms. Termini squinched up her mouth and said, “Well, we all know Justin is . . . funny.”
If there weren’t a fast-growing monster dog prowling my house, I would definitely fake being sick tomorrow and just stay the heck home.
January 8, Friday
You know what else I hate as much as slobber?
Times tables.
I mean I completely no thank you times tables.
And anyway isn’t what a person is panicking about more important than if he says the word h-a-t-e? It would be so nice to have parents who care more about their son’s feelings than if he keeps messing up 3 × 8.
It also really doesn’t help if a person’s parents keep saying the word concentrate, either.
Or the words go to your room until you can keep a civil tongue in your mouth.
When I didn’t even stick my tongue out at them one single time.
And so guess who messed up the threes times tables in school today, after all that time alone in my room not practicing last night?
January 9, Saturday
I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream that Wingnut had come to life and was breathing his surprisingly stinky breath in my face.
When I opened my eyes it took me a second to figure out that it wasn’t Wingnut breathing his surprisingly stinky breath on my face.
It was Qwerty.
I screamed.
What kind of lunatic dog thinks the best thing to do to a kid screaming in terror and yelling “get away, get away” is to jump on top of him and pin him down with your big heavy paws and lick his face like it’s a doggy lollipop?
I am sleeping in the top bunk from now on, I don’t care about the risk of falling off and smashing into bits anymore.
I have a sneaking suspicion Noah made that up, anyway.
January 10, Sunday
Every time I fell asleep, I jolted awake, because it felt like I was falling off the bed. I ended up building a stuffties barrier, just in case the wooden fence thing and wedging myself against the wall wasn’t enough protection. Some of the stuffties (I don’t want to mention any names) were insulted at being used as a barrier, and had a bajillion snide comments they felt they had to make about the situation all night long.
This morning Dad said I looked like I needed a cup of coffee.
Mom said she signed me up for basketball.
Also, violin lessons.
As if I didn’t already have enough to worry about with the mile test tomorrow.
January 11, Monday
A mile is very, very far.
Especially when it is, like, a bajillion laps around the gym.
And you only have 23 minutes and you aren’t sure if you already did lap 17 or if 17 is next and also you get a cramp and your sneakers are suddenly squishing your feet. Which means a blister. A biggie, right on the big toe.
But there is good news:
I did it.
I ran the mile, or maybe a mile plus one lap.
Now I never have to do it again.
And then, at lunch, there was even more good news:
I’m in a club! I was one of the first ones asked into it!
January 12, Tuesday
Terrible news.
The club I am in is not really a club. It is more of a “we don’t care that you won’t let us in your club, we have our own club” club.
The other club has a no boys allowed policy.
Which I actually think is illegal. “Yeah, you tell ’em, Justin Case,” all the boys behind me said, or stuff like that, and a lot of “Yeah!” words.
Montana C. disagreed. And, she said, her mom is a lawyer and her dad is a police officer. She had her hands in fists on her hips.
I thought of saying, So what, my parents own a candy store, so now only the boys can have candy. But maybe her dad could get me arrested and her mom could get me locked up in jail, and anyway anybody who wants can buy candy at our store. I got in trouble one time last year for telling Noah he could never have any more candy in his life if he didn’t let me play with his LEGO car. And no boys were saying, “So what?” or even “Yeah!” anymore. They were shrugging and walking away to the far side of the playground.
Anyway it didn’t matter because we don’t want to be in their dumb club. We would rather do cool boy things instead of dumb girl things.
Mostly the cool boy thing we did after that was hang around grumbling about how much we don’t care about not being in their loser club.
January 13, Wednesday
Dad lost his running shoes. Not shoes, actually, just the left one.
And he thought I made a big deal when I lost Wingnut.
He made it seem like maybe Elizabeth and I stole it to use as a club house or something.
We got out of his way and hung around together in my top bunk for a while. I think kindergarten is good for Elizabeth. She’s less annoying than she used to be.
January 14, Thursday
Snow day! Finally! And the best part is, it happened on a student council day!
Also a times tables test day!
The snow was pretty much melted by lunch, but still, a snow day is a snow day, and Elizabeth and I and then Noah made a snow, well, not man exactly. More like a snow pyramid, with a carrot and some r
ocks and sticks in it.
But Noah didn’t get too cold, and Mom let us have as many marshmallows as we wanted in our hot chocolates and then sled down Noah’s hill until all the snow was gone and we were basically sledding on grass.
I love snow days.
Also, marshmallows.
January 15, Friday
What I Do Not Love:
1. 3 × 8 = 24
2. Being in the lowest math group, when math is my best thing
3. Sitting down when I don’t say that 3 × 8 = 24 fast enough
4. Looking around and seeing only Xavier Schwartz and Gianni Schicci are also sitting
5. Dogs
6. Drool
7. The Way-Back of the basement
8. Violins
9. Basketball
January 16, Saturday
10. (new addition to my list) My basketball coach whose name is:
Mr. Calabrio
January 17, Sunday
Tomorrow is Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, the day when we are supposed to be celebrating freedom for everybody—not getting pounded. But too bad for me, because Xavier Schwartz wants me to come over tomorrow.
Or at least his mother does.
And my mother is making me go. She said she is out of excuses and to stop running away from the dog because it “riles him up.”
As if that devil dog ever got riled down.
Supposedly me and Xavier are going to work on our times tables together. I tried to point out that since we both stink at our times tables it probably will not help us any. Mom said moaning gives her a headache and she needed to go take Qwerty for a run. Usually Dad takes Qwerty for his run, but it turned out Qwerty had enjoyed Dad’s left running shoe as a snack, so he can’t go for a run until tomorrow, when he buys a new pair. The old one was covered with dog slime and hidden behind the couch. Elizabeth found it. It was totally disgusting.
