Also, Trigger keeps gnawing on his leash like it’s a ribeye. I wish you were out here with me.
O—
I’ve been thinking about the LARPing one because anyone who goes there is obviously into acting. It’s an easy casting call. But also it might be cool to dress up and pretend to be someone else, even if we have no idea who the characters are.
Unless I have to dress up as a dog. Or a cat. Any animal, really. We get enough animal action here.
P—
Let’s follow the schedule next week and see if our lives turn around completely. That’s not asking too much of an after-school activity, is it?
We’ll start with Spelling Bee Club!
O—
What kind of people spell fOR FuN? Unless they get all their boring out in spelling club and are really wild at lunchtime? Never mind, as long as they can spell P-A-R-T-Y they are okay with me. Are you going to spell I-L-I-K-E-Y-O-U to Jackson?
I bet spellers are good at reading scripts and enunciating their lines.
You know, some days I don’t notice the smell here. Today is not that day.
P—
I’m looking at the options not on the schedule and I’m guessing we should cross off LEGO Club because of that injury you got when you stepped on your little brother’s Luke Skywalker.
O—
That light saber . . . ow! I just had a phantom foot pain. I can do LEGO Club if I wear very thick boots. Wait, isn’t Jackson in LEGO Club? He wrote a comment on Bethany’s blog.
P—
WHAT? Jackson’s in the LEGO Club?! How did I miss that? Forget your foot injury, let’s go! The schedule says LEGO Club is next Monday at 3:30. We will erase Drama Club. That still gives us time to make it to the shelter. This is the perfect answer. . . . I’ll meet new people this week and get some charming conversational skills in time for LEGO Club! Jackson Whittaker will fall in love with my ability to form complete sentences!
O—
Maybe we want to do a couple of weeks of clubs so you can REALLY get prepared for LEGO Club? But not too many weeks, since Thanksgiving is the last week of November, and I should probably have my guest list before then. I’ll have to get invitations out a couple weeks early since December fifteenth is, seriously, the worst day ever to be born ever besides December sixteenth to twenty-fifth.
Not that this is totally about my birthday. It’s about you! Romance! Jackson Whittaker! I got it.
P—
Is it weird that I am doing all this just so I can learn to . . . talk to a guy?
O—
I’m hoping my life will LITERALLY become a soap opera. You’re asking the wrong person.
I need to check this schedule with my mom because of babysitting. I think half of the reason she works is for the easy access to supplies for her famous gift baskets. But the other half is so she can have a break from the twins, a reason to shower, and to not wear those used-to-be-black yoga pants every day.
P—
As long as they are LONG yoga pants, I think it’s a solid uniform.
So we are good with Spelling Club, LARPing, and LEGO. I was going to add Chess Club, but maybe not. Dad finally sat down with me last night to play a game but he got called away for work. Honestly, the thought of playing without him makes my insides ache.
Okay, gotta go give Trigger a talking to. He started digging a hole and may reach a water pipe soon.
O—
Totally, no thanks on Chess Club. That one time you tried to explain it to me, I almost died from boredom.
My mom is here. Leaving the notebook with you. I’m actually excited! I think this is really going to work for both of us. Good thing, too, since my birthday is only a month and a half away! Tick, tock.
Also, I know we agreed that last year would be the LAST year we dressed up for Halloween, but my mom asked me to take the twins around, so if you want to come trick-or-treating, let me know. You can dress up like Amelia Earhart again and I’ll dress up as Tatiana Vickers—the cruel and sophisticated socialite on Love and Deception who owns her own fashion empire and is secretly dying of a rare disease.
The twins are dressing as Dr. Seuss THING 1 and THING 2. The costume options for twins are endless.
Call me tonight and we’ll plan clubs and Halloween costumes. Or wait—I’ll call you, once I can hide in the bathroom from all the rug rats. What is it like to have your own room?
See you tomorrow at Spelling Bee Club. Let’s hope they’re party people.
Chapter 10
Piper,
This flyer was a bit misleading, right? I pictured the two of us walking into a room full of gleeful people snacking on gourmet pastries as they spelled words like MAGNIFICENT. And REGALEMENT.
But no. Desk work? Silent study? I didn’t actually want to spell words, I wanted to CHAT with people about spelling words. I really don’t mind worksheets, but in my free time? That one exercise where we had to spell out a word three times before the timer went off almost gave me a panic attack. I only got through two spellings of the word platitudinous before my timer buzzed and I jumped. And I noticed you almost fell out of your chair. I wanted to hug you, but the teacher slapped another worksheet on my desk.
Anyhow, while you were in the bathroom, I walked back to the snack table next to Mia Lester—that girl who always wears that Pokémon sweatshirt with the worn-off glitter. She didn’t even wait for me to attempt a charming comment, she just went on about how excited she is that we have snacks this year because apparently last year they didn’t have any money in the budget and there were financial issues and they needed to increase their donations and she said it all in one long sentence and all without taking a breath.
So I nodded in agreement.
ITWASAWESOME.
But those snacks? Goldfish crackers and tap water. What are we . . . toddlers? I gave Mia a donation of five dollars and she said thank you. I don’t think that makes her a “friend” or anything, but it was cool.
How’d you do? I did notice that you asked the teacher four separate times if you could go to the bathroom. Hope you’re okay.
Hugs,
Olivia
Grateful for:
1. Other chances via practice clubs that will (hopefully) help me get ready to be fabulous at LEGO Club!
2. The fact that I actually CAN spell platitudinous
3. The homemade cornbread my mom made me last night (cornbread and sweet potato pie remind her of Sunday dinners in Atlaaaaanta.)
4. That assembly earlier today that got me out of PE
5. My eight-year-old neighbor who let me borrow his LEGOs so I could practice before the club—small, boxy houses with one window . . . Here I come!
Chapter 11
O—
These are the three words I remember from the list: “chivalry,” “facsimile,” “tendetius” (or maybe it was “tetnus”?). I don’t know if I’m spelling them right—I’m sure I’m not. But I don’t care. We both know I was never going to be a spelling bee winner, or a spelling bee participant, or a spelling bee anything. The very idea is perposterous. Preposterous? Silly.
Although, I will say, I didn’t feel like a complete idiot in there. The thing I like about middle school is only a few people remember me as the Girl Who Used to Get Humiliated If She Had to Contribute in Reading Group. Middle school is a fresh start. And I think, I THINK, I’m beginning to understand some more in reading classes now. Maybe it’s all this writing and reading we do in our notebook? I don’t know. Don’t tell anyone. You know how Mom has me going to this tutor now one day a week during lunch? Well, she always puts homemade peanut butter cups in my lunch that day. I don’t want to lose that.
So the reason I went to the bathroom four times was not just to escape silent Ps and weird vowel combinations.
First of all, we had a Medieval Day in English class today. We were combined with a seventh grade class. Lemonade Stand Danny’s seventh grade class. So he cornered me when I was sampling the carbonated app
le juice “ale.”
Here’s the script.
[Interior, daytime]
DANNY: Hey, wench.
ME: I’m not a wrench.
DANNY (guffaws): Wench. Not wrench. Duh.
ME: Oh, that’s right. ’Cuz you’re the tool. (I really said that! I’m not sure what tool means, but I know it’s not good, and he seemed mad, so it worked.)
DANNY (shoves a tart into his mouth): How come you aren’t wearing your glasses?
ME (a little weirded out that he noticed): I have contacts, but sometimes I get allergies and they bother my eyes. And sometimes I just like to accessorize.
DANNY: Cool. So . . . I saw you at lunch today sitting with that girl Tessa.
ME (tries to recover from the shock of Danny noticing me at school, and that he thinks I really hang out with Tessa. I’m not trying to be friends with those girls, Olivia. You KNOW that.): Yeah. So?
DANNY: So I think she’s cute. Can you tell her?
ME: You like Tessa?
DANNY: That’s what I just said. I know you’re just a sixth grader, so you probably don’t understand how this works.
ME: Sure I do. I tell her you think she’s cute. And then you do something nice for me.
DANNY (crosses arms): Fine. Like what?
ME: I’m not sure yet. Maybe bow down in the cafeteria? Or wash our driveway. Oh, or let me run a truck over your lemonade stand. The fun part is thinking about it for a while. (Olivia, maybe I can borrow some of Danny’s not-as-mean friends for my birthday party? They could be the villains and wear fedoras. Every party should have a fedora.)
DANNY: She’s in after-school orchestra with me. If you can tell her before that, and let me know if she likes me back, then I can ask her out afterward. Deal?
ME (flicks hair. Because aren’t you supposed to do that when you talk to boys? Should we add that to your Jackson ideas?): You know, if you want something from a girl, you shouldn’t call her a wench.
DANNY (swigs his ale and burps. Gross.): Fine. Thanks.
ME: You’re welcome, Village Idiot.
[End Scene]
So then I ate some tarts and meat pie. I also went a little crazy on the ale, which is why I left Spelling Bee Club the first time—I had to go the bathroom.
The second time I left was to pull Tessa out of orchestra with a fake note so I could tell her Danny likes her.
And guess what? She likes him. Lemonade-selling, wears-stupid-shirts-that-say-funny-things-that-aren’t-funny, rude, brown-eyed, messy-haired Danny. She actually likes him. So THEN Danny met up with me on the third bathroom break and I told him the news. I guess they’ll go out now. I still don’t quite know what going out means? Maybe they will hold hands in the hallway or something. La-dee-da.
And fourth break—I truly had to go to the bathroom again.
Anyway, although Spelling Bee Club was absolutely a bust, the kids in there seemed nice. A couple of girls smiled at me while I ate Goldfish. But I’m not sure I should consider them as birthday party people. They can spell “scandal,” but I have to figure out if they can actually create it.
Which reminds me. I’m working on my birthday party ROLES. I’ll add it to the notebook.
<3
Piper
Grateful: that no guys are “asking me out” since I still don’t know what that means, apple ale, knowing how to spell some words, Medieval Day, adventure!
P.S. Oh my gosh, what if we taught Blinkie how to spell just by BLINKING? Now that would be an online video worth watching. . . .
Cast of characters:
ASHLEY DESDEMONA: Our heroine! Strong and spunky! Wears beautiful scarves and fashionable eyewear! Can do a fierce round kick and save a baby from a fire! Sometimes has money problems! Played by me, obviously.
RANDALL MENARD: Super villain. If you took all the villains in the galaxy and added them together, they still would not reach his level of EVIL. Some of Randall’s notorious villainous acts include blackmail, secretly having a family in another country, faking a ghost haunting, and holding BIG glamorous parties where someone is always murdered when the lights go out. Silver hair. Hasn’t aged in fifty years. Played by Danny, if I invited him, which I’m not going to do.
TATIANA VICKERS: The cruel and sophisticated socialite who owns her own fashion empire and is secretly dying of a rare disease. Evil, but sympathetic. Wears a lot of rings. Her skin looks frozen. Talin? Her face doesn’t look frozen, but she’s très (French!) fashionable.
MCKAY DAVIS: This guy has a jaw so cut, he can sell razors without even doing a commercial. Even though he’s done loads of commercials. Classically handsome, incredibly kind. He had Inconsistent Blindness for two seasons, a condition where people just become blind every once in a while for no reason. Very tragic. Luke, my ridiculously athletic brother? Or maybe I won’t need to cast relatives at all with all the people I’m meeting at the clubs!
CECIL HARMOND: Has had more boyfriends than anyone can count. She is always trying to get back at an ex. She also has a lovely garden and makes grilled cheese whenever there is a cozy scene with lots of explaining. Played by Olivia, to get her used to the idea of having a boyfriend?
Just the first names of common characters who would need to be replicated in the birthday party:
JOSEPH—a twin (the good one who can cry on a dime)
JOSEF—the other twin (evil) (has been married A LOT) (never cries). The twins? Except either one could start crying over anything at any moment. And they’re three.
LASHELLE—constantly gets stranded in snowstorms with no access to a phone, only a cute guy and a fireplace
DAMIAN—has multiple personalities; embarrasses the family at Christmas
BERNARD—was deaf but has been miraculously cured!
HEATHER—returns from the dead ALL THE TIME
Stock roles that can be played by anyone:
A BUTLER—a twin?
A BARTENDER—twin? But potential spills.
A nanny
A doctor with bad news
A person who answers the phone at the police station and is always annoyed
Also, my mom said the other day she’s worried I watch too much Love and Deception and should maybe go kick a soccer ball sometime. Hahahaha, right?
Chapter 12
Piper,
No, my dad does not hoard first-aid supplies. Let me explain:
I decided to go check out Badminton Club, even though you ended up not being able to go. Aren’t you proud of me? By myself! It required LOTS of deep, cleansing breaths.
But truthfully, I wish your mom could find a babysitter for the twins from an outside source. They can’t play every role in your DRAMATIC party, no matter how cute they are. We need guests! (Thanks for giving me the part of someone with an embarrassment of boyfriends!)
So, club time. There was a poster on the gym wall that said: “Badminton is more than just a birdie and a racket! It’s a place to build friendships!”
“Building friendships” is fairly close to “getting charming conversational skills to use on a guy.”
Perfection, right?
Let me start off by saying that I’m writing this in bed with my knee elevated while I’m balancing an ice pack on it. I’m on my third ice pack, so don’t hold me accountable for the words I’m about to say.
The Badminton Club’s idea of “building friendships” is to pair us off and hit the birdie back and forth with a partner. The pair next to us talked and giggled the whole way through. But MY partner happened to be this girl from my history class, Jessica Belfort. She talks incessantly during class. She talks to her friends. To strangers. To her textbook. The girl is A TALKER, is what I’m saying. So I was feeling good that she was my partner—someone to talk to!
However.
It just so happened that Jessica had two teeth pulled earlier that day and her mouth was full of cotton balls. She couldn’t say a word. All she did was moan.
Jessica moaned out all the lyrics to a sad Taylor Swift song
It wasn’t all that bad, since we communicated through eyebrow raises. I now have specific eyebrow positions for “it’s my serve,” “good hit,” and “I like your boots.” Pretty cool, actually. Hopefully Jackson will fall for my eyebrow gestures?
But truthfully, I was hoping we’d rotate partners so I could attempt to hold a conversation with someone—a person with a voice—but that’s when the exercise portion of the club kicked in. . . .
Mrs. Rodriguez blew her whistle. “Four laps. No stopping. You can’t play competitive badminton if you’re out of shape.”
As you know, lap running is not something I do—or have ever done, actually. I’m certain that if I started doing it I would instantly get woozy and possibly die. I know this because the simple act of jogging up my street to catch the school bus has caused me to see a white light on more than one occasion. So running laps—four of them—was bound to be the death of me. But I couldn’t let this be the end because of the following reasons:
1. I didn’t have time to clean up my room this morning and I’m fairly certain there are undies on my floor. Totally embarrassing if an FBI agent had to come search my room due to my suspicious death. Very soap opera-y, right? (Wait. Does the FBI come by if you die playing badminton? Hold on . . . okay, I’m back. Google says probably not.)
2. I still have LEGO Club to look forward to next week. I’ll never become the future Mrs. Whittaker if I never get a chance to talk to Jackson and/or I’m super dead.
So anyway, I tried to negotiate with Mrs. Rodriguez. “How about two really good laps?”
She squinted at me and tried to stare down into my soul. “This is competitive badminton. Four laps, no less.”
I bit at my lip, scared to correct her. “But I’m fairly sure this is a ‘club.’” (I even used the air quotes when I said it.) “Can’t we just play for ‘fun’?” (I air-quoted ‘fun’ too. What is wrong with me?)
By the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t just staring at my soul . . . she was being all judgy with it. “We take this seriously. It’s fun in a serious, competitive way. Now run!”
The Pages Between Us Page 5
