“NO! NO! NO!” he screamed, and stomped. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?! DO IT AGAIN!”
The other kids looked almost as scared as I was.
Chloe covered her eyes. “This is too much for me! I can’t watch!” she whimpered.
Zoey bit her nails. “Be strong! You can do it!” she mouthed to me.
MacKenzie had this smirk on her face and was enjoying every minute of my public humiliation.
I closed my eyes, balled up my fist, and gave myself a pep talk. “Get it together, Maxwell! Throw a good punch or this guy is going to FAIL you! Think claw of the Hawk . . . claw of the Hawk . . .”
“Oh, look! The puny coward is tired!” he heckled me. “Anyone who takes a nappy-wappy in front of the Hawk gets nightmares! You hear that, pip—”
“HIIIIIYAAAAAAAH!” I screamed, and swung my fist as hard as I could.
CRUNCH!!!!!!!!
There was a collective gasp from the class. That’s when I opened my eyes to see what had happened. Sensei Hawkins was lying on the floor, covered in his chocolate shake!!
“OOOOOWWW!” he moaned, rubbing his cheek.
“OMG! SENSEI!” I cried. “I am SO sorry! My eyes were closed when I punched! I didn’t see you!”
I felt terrible! Sure, I wanted him to shut up. But not like that! I tried to help him, but he insisted on getting up by himself.
“No . . . big deal,” he said in a weak voice. “That didn’t hurt at all! Ha-ha! OWW!” He grabbed his jaw.
Poor guy! I think I accidentally bruised his face. And his ego! The saddest part was that I made him spill that yummy chocolate shake he was slurping down. I felt morally obligated to buy him another one.
Although, I had to admit—it WAS a pretty good punch! Strong and powerful! Just like the Hawk!
NOT!! I just hope he gives this “puny little pip-squeak” a passing grade.
!!
SATURDAY, MARCH 22
“Good morning, dear!” Mom chirped as I dragged myself into the kitchen.
It was 7:00 a.m. and she had on a fancy ruffled apron with cupcakes on it and a matching chef hat. Plus, she was wearing jewelry and makeup. It was definitely a huge change from her normal sleepy, disheveled look and ratty bathrobe.
“Good morning,” I muttered, glancing at the clock. The film crew was supposed to arrive in an hour.
“Since you’ll be filming today, I thought I’d make up a batch of my secret recipe—yummy organic cupcakes!” she said, picking up a silver tray filled with cupcakes and flashing me a huge megawatt smile. “They’re the perfect high-energy snack for SUPERbusy moms and kids and ONLY three hundred calories! Preparation time is twenty-eight minutes.”
“Mom, are you feeling okay?” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. She was acting a little strange.
“MY favorite is the delicious garbanzo bean with organic gooseberry icing,” she said in a perky TV-chef voice. “The taste will knock you right off your feet! Why don’t you try one, Nikki?”
ME, A LITTLE AFRAID TO TRY ONE OF MOM’S WEIRD, NASTY-LOOKING ORGANIC CUPCAKES
I just stared at it suspiciously. Garbanzo beans? And what exactly is a gooseberry? Finally I shrugged.
“Um . . . OKAY,” I answered, and took a huge bite.
UGH! ICK! It was NASTY!
It would knock you off your feet, all right. Right onto the floor, writhing in pain with horrible stomach cramps from the yuckylicious taste!
“So, what do you think?” Mom asked anxiously.
I forced my trembling lips into a fake smile and just gave her a thumbs-up instead of the truth.
Why? I was afraid to actually open my mouth due to the high risk of involuntary projectile vomiting.
Sorry, Mom !!
“I knew you would love it!” Mom gushed happily. “Just wait until you try my tuna-eggplant cupcake with oatmeal mustard frosting!”
Just the mention of those foul ingredients made me gag. AGAIN!
“No more, Mom! PLEASE!” I muttered as my stomach churned like a garbage disposal.
Before she could hand me the lump of purple goo covered in slimy oatmeal, my dad suddenly came running into the kitchen like his hair was on fire or something.
He was wearing a tacky-looking brown costume with a long cape and mask. And he had huge plastic bug antennae sticking out of his cap!
OMG! My dad looked like a cross between a slightly deranged superhero and a giant half-human cockroach!
For a moment I thought he was Max the Roach’s long-lost father!!
Then Dad sprayed me with his bug sprayer thingy and hollered . . .
“Hey, it’s ME! Like my new costume?” he chuckled.
“OMG! Dad, what’s that HORRID smell?! A dead walrus?!” I shrieked.
And what lamebrained, immature IDIOT would be recklessly spraying it on people? I’m just sayin’.
“I should ask you, Nikki,” Dad said. “I found a bottle of it under the kitchen sink. YOU said it was a homemade insect repellent/vinaigrette salad dressing/air freshener called Sardine Summer Splash! Remember your extra-credit gym project?”
Okay! So it was MY leftover fairy repellent spray that I’d made back in October! NEVER MIND!!
“This stuff works great!” Dad said. “It’s totally safe. Kills bugs dead. And tastes good too!” He squirted some into his mouth. “So, when is the TV crew supposed to be here?”
Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. “Mom! Dad! Why are you guys dressed up like this and acting like characters from some weird 1980s TV show?!” I yelled at them.
“Honey, haven’t you heard the great news? Your show is doing so well that your producer wants to audition US for our own SPIN-OFF shows!” Mom said excitedly.
JUST GREAT!! My life is already a HORROR show. And now my parents are joining the cast?!
What’s NEXT . . . ?!!
That’s when Brianna and Miss Penelope came dancing into the room.
Brianna was wearing a tutu, a feather boa, Mom’s heels, jewelry, sunglasses, and way too much makeup.
OMG! She looked like a five-year-old Katy Perry!
She was blasting an obnoxious song from Princess Sugar Plum’s greatest hits collection and singing along, very off-key. . . .
“ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT, BABY! GOTTA ROW TO THAT FUNKY BEAT, BABY!” she howled. “DANCING DOWN THE STREEEEEEEAM!”
“Brianna! WHAT are you doing? And WHY are you dressed for a clown beauty pageant?” I asked, covering my ears so they wouldn’t bleed.
“Wait a minute! You CAN’T call your show Brianna’s Got Talent!” I protested. “What if someone comes along more talented than you and wins?”
“Me and Miss Penelope are the judges. And we’ll always pick ME to be the WINNER! That’s why it’s called BRIANNA’S Got Talent!! Not OTHER PEOPLE Got Talent!” Brianna said smugly, and then very rudely stuck her tongue out at me.
When she started singing again, I covered my ears. But I wanted to cover my eyes when she actually started doing the CHICKEN DANCE! I couldn’t believe it when Mom and Dad started dancing and singing along.
“OMG! STOP IT! PLEASE!!” I screamed over the racket. “You’re ALL driving me KA-RAY-ZEE!”
I snatched Brianna’s music player and shut it off.
“When the TV crew gets here, they’re going to think they walked into an insane asylum!” I yelled. “What is WRONG with you people?!”
That’s when Mom, Dad, Brianna, and Miss Penelope glared at me in silence like I had totally lost it. . . .
MY ENTIRE FAMILY, EYEBALLING ME ALL EVIL-LIKE!!
Okay! So maybe I WAS overreacting a little bit.
“Nikki, I’m really worried about you,” Mom fretted. “I think your hectic schedule is really stressing you out. You’ve not been yourself lately. Would you like this liver-’n’-onions cupcake with pickle relish frosting? It’ll help you relax, dear.”
That’s when I threw up in my mouth a little.
“Someone needs her beauty sleep!” Dad teased. “Just go back to bed a
nd sleep it off, sport! We’ll let you know when the TV crew gets here.”
“Yeah! You’re no fun at all when you’re GRUMPY!” Brianna said, and stuck her tongue out at me. Again.
JUST GREAT! All of a sudden, everything was MY fault! Like I was the CRAZY one! I stormed upstairs to my room and slammed my door. I’d had enough of that stupid reality show invading my privacy and ruining my life! I stared at my piggy bank. I could bust it open and scrounge up enough loose change for a mustache disguise and a one-way bus ticket to somewhere far, far away. Like . . . um, SIBERIA!
That’s when the craziest idea popped into my head. And no! My crazy idea WASN’T trying to take a BUS across the ocean to Siberia wearing a mustache disguise.
It was a DIABOLICAL plan that would:
1. SCARE that TV crew so badly that they’d NEVER, EVER want to set foot in this house again
AND
2. KILL all of those silly ideas about spin-off TV shows.
I’m such an EVIL GENIUS that sometimes I scare MYSELF!! MWA-HA-HA-HAA!
Gotta go now! I’ll finish writing about this later. . . .
!!
SUNDAY, MARCH 23
OMG! You will never believe what happened here yesterday! It was UNREAL!!
I had less than fifteen minutes to come up with a plan to get rid of the TV crew. I crept downstairs and snuck up on Brianna, who was watching cartoons in the living room.
“Pssst!” I whispered. “Pssst! Brianna!”
“Miss Penelope, would you PLEASE stop bugging me!” she said, rolling her eyes at her hand. “You can watch the news after this cartoon is over!”
“No! It’s ME!” I snapped. “Look behind you, dummy! I mean . . . dear!”
“Oh! Hi, Nikki! Why are you whispering?” Brianna asked. “Are you playing a game? CAN I PLAY?!”
“Shhhhh!” I covered her mouth. “Yes! But you have to be superquiet. It’s a secret game, okay?”
She nodded.
“Let’s sneak upstairs and I’ll explain,” I whispered. “I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear. Okay?”
She nodded again, and I slowly removed my hand from her mouth.
“NIKKI, I CAN’T WAIT TO SNEAK UPSTAIRS TO PLAY OUR SECRET GAME!” she screamed excitedly. “I PROMISE I WON’T TELL MOM AND DAD A THING! AND, MUH, MUH, MUH, MUH . . .”
I didn’t have a choice but to slap my hand back over her mouth to shut her up. The last thing I needed was for Brianna to ruin my plan by blabbing everything to Mom and Dad. With my hand still over her mouth, I picked her up like a human football and ran up the stairs like I was trying to score a touchdown or something! After we’d made it safely to my room, I sat her on my bed and scolded her.
“Brianna! The first rule about the secret game is, WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THE SECRET GAME!”
“My bad!” she giggled. “Sugar makes me chatty.”
“Anyway, I have fab news! I’ve got a plan for how YOU and Miss Penelope can get your own TV show!”
“REALLY?!!!” she shouted. “I’M SOOO HAPPY!”
I shushed her and continued. “Talent shows are so . . . yesterday. You need to impress the director with something she’s never seen before.”
“Okay!” Brianna said excitedly. “So, um . . . what exactly has she never seen before?”
“Well, you could wear your cute red heart pj’s! And paint cute red polka dots on your face. We’ll call your style . . . um . . . cute clown couture!”
“What?! Pj’s and polka dots?!” she said, scrunching up her nose. “Hmm! I think that’s . . . AWESOME! I love clowns! Well, except for the creepy, sad ones. Those guys are scary! I’m not going to be a creepy, sad, scary clown, am I, Nikki?!”
“Of course not!” I assured her. “I have a strict no-creepy-sad-scary-clowns-allowed policy.”
Brianna changed into her pj’s and I got busy with the polka dots. . . .
ME, HELPING BRIANNA GET HER VERY OWN TV SHOW (KIND OF)
“There! All done! See how cute you look?!”
“Hey! Wait a second!” Brianna said, examining her face in the mirror and frowning. “Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to get a TV show looking like this?!”
Oh, crud! She wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid! Brianna pointed at her cheek. “Nikki, you missed a spot! Right there! See?”
“Oh. Sorry about that!” I replied sarcastically. I added one last red polka dot to her cheek.
“There! Now it’s perfect!” She smiled. “I’m going to be a famous reality TV star. Just like Honey Boo Boo!”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh! I almost forgot! I need a funny name, too,” Brianna said.
I had the PERFECT name for her!
I whispered it into her ear and she couldn’t stop giggling.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Yikes! The TV crew had finally arrived.
I said a prayer that my plan would work.
“Okay, let’s go! And remember, Brianna, you’re a STAR! Now sparkle . . . !”
I rushed downstairs and opened the door.
“Good morning, everyone! Come right in!” I said, and plastered a fake smile on my face.
That’s when my director noticed Brianna. “Hello, sweetheart! What’s your name?”
“It’s CHICKEN POX!” Brianna yelled. “Isn’t CHICKEN POX a silly name?! I got these cute red polka dots this morning. Aren’t they booty-ful?”
That’s when the entire TV crew gasped. . . .
As my director slowly backed away from Brianna, she accidentally tripped over the camera guy. He lost his balance, fell down the steps, and knocked over the lights guy.
“OMG! She’s contagious!” my director shrieked. “Filming is canceled! Everybody back to the van!”
“Hey, do you guys wanna hear me sing?! I’m a pretty good dancer, too!” Brianna chirped.
“Um, is something wrong?” I asked innocently.
“Sorry! But we can’t film here today. This child is obviously very sick! Good-bye!”
“Wait a minute!” Brianna yelled, grabbing her mic. She turned her music on and screeched, “ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT, BABY! GOTTA ROW TO THAT FUNKY BEAT, BABY!”
The entire TV crew took off running down the sidewalk, back to their van, dropping equipment along the way. Brianna ran after them, singing, “DANCING DOWN THE STREEEEEEEAM!”
OMG! It was a scene straight out of a comedy movie. If only I’d had a camera to film it all.
If I hadn’t intervened, I’m sure each of my family members would have gotten their own TV show, including Miss Penelope.
My life has been a wreck these past few weeks due to my superbusy schedule. And I’m not about to stand by and let this happen to my family. Sure, they’re a little cray-cray! But they’re mine! And I LOVE them!
I’m really sorry to disappoint my director and all of those TV viewers. BUT . . .
What HAPPENS in the Maxwell residence STAYS in the Maxwell residence!!! !!
Anyway, thank goodness my fake Chicken Pox Apocalypse worked like a charm! That TV crew won’t be coming back to my house anytime soon.
NIKKI MAXWELL: THE MAKING OF A POP PRINCESS! EPISODE #6
MONDAY, MARCH 24
I feel really bad about not being more supportive of Brandon and his scholarship project.
I know what it feels like to be SUPERworried about how your tuition is going to get paid. Been there, done that! Got the T-shirt!!
I just hope he’s not at risk for having to transfer schools !! I need to talk to Brandon today to find out when we can meet again so I can help him.
Anyway, I was a little nervous about showing my face in my martial arts class today. Hey! You’d feel a little AWKWARD too if you’d almost knocked out your teacher!
And it didn’t help matters when I saw MacKenzie and Jessica whispering about me and giggling.
OMG! I CRINGED when I actually saw Sensei Hawkins. It looked like someone had toilet-papered his face or something!
Come on! The punch wasn’t that hard. Were the te
n rolls of bandages really necessary?! Or the three pints of assorted Ben & Jerry’s ice cream flavors he’d piled on a waffle cone?!
“Listen up, pip-squeaks! Being a karate master isn’t just about kicks and . . . um, PUNCHES,” the Hawk said, glaring at me. “It’s about a killer instinct!”
In spite of his tough talk, I could have sworn he flinched when I suddenly leaned forward and sneezed. He almost dropped his ice-cream cone.
“You have to be wise and clever to outsmart your enemy. For instance, take these bandages!” He pointed at his head. “They’re FAKE! I’m just using them to make a point. Got it? In real life, you’ll never see bruises on the Hawk, because they’re too SCARED to show up!”
He did a three-punch combo and yelled, “HIIIIIIIII-OOOUUCH!!” Then he grabbed his jaw and whimpered in pain like a small puppy. Next he made a very shocking announcement. . . .
ME, IN SHOCK OVER THE FACT THAT WE’RE HAVING A POP QUIZ IN GYM!!
“And don’t you DARE think it’s because I’m sore or injured. Or that I’m PUNISHING the class for my, um . . . FAKE fractured jaw. I just wanna see if you have the knowledge required for a true martial arts warrior.”
“What? No punching?” a boy in front of me grumbled sarcastically. “Why don’t you spar with Knuckles Nikki today? That’ll be fun!”
“Nah! He’s probably afraid Muscles Maxwell will knock his lights out again!” the boy next to him snickered.
Knuckles Nikki?! Muscles Maxwell?!
I groaned and buried my face in my hands.
Hey, call me a DORK! But NEVER, EVER call me those names! It makes me sound like a heartless THUG or BULLY!!
“It’s okay, Nikki,” Chloe said, patting my shoulder sympathetically. “Look on the bright side. With your new rep, you won’t be the first person eliminated in dodgeball anymore! Everyone will be scared to death to hit you!”
“Hmm. Actually, that would be nice . . . ,” I mused.
Wait a minute, WHAT was I saying?!!!
Dork Diaries Book 7: Tales From a Not-So-Glam TV Star Page 6
