We Can Live Without Boys... Can't We?, part 4

LAST TIME: Hooker day came and went in a blaze of scantily clad glory. Maggie was sweatin' new-hottie-in-town Brian, but it turned out that he was IN THE LOVE with her friend and fellow boy-disdaining clubmate Kelly—which was, of course, revealed via an extremely realistic love note. Kelly returned Brian's affections and decided that, in spite of Maggie's feelings and the entire concept of the We Can Live Without Boys club, she had to follow her heart and "go with him." Maggie became sick to her stomach.

My stomach just got worse and worse. At home my dad gave me a quiz on the state capitals. I started barfing. Once I started I couldn't stop. How can love be so cruel? Maybe I'll die of a broken heart. I felt sick.

Broken heart? I'd say dehydration is more likely.

"How's that babe in your class?" Cassie asked.
"Dumb. He likes Kelly."
"I thought Kelly was your friend."
"Was. She's gonna go with Brian."
"Who's Brian?"
"The babe."
"Sorry, Magsums." said Cassie and she left.

I had the 24-hour-flu. Oh, barf. And barf I did. The 24-hour-flu is a dumb name for it. I mean it lasts a lot longer than 24 hours.

Er, probably not the 24-hour flu then. Just sayin'.

"Hi, Maggie." said Sherry, bringing in my homework. "Kelly is feeling really bad, you know."
"I'll bet Brian isn't." I said, sadly.
"Now Maggie, you can't jump to conclusions. Maybe he likes you."

What? Sherry, just stop. Please. For all of us.

"If he liked me he would have written me a note."
"Ok you have a point. Just try to be friends with Kelly."

Sherry left me feeling miserable. Should I be friends with Kelly or not? I was mad at Brian. Even madder at Kelly. She was there when I said he looked better than Kirk Cameron. Then she had to go with him. I thought we could live without boys, anyway.

You guys, she said he looked better than Kirk Cameron! Than KIRK CAMERON! Does this mean nothing to those bitches? Unbelievable! On the other hand, she has had, oh, ZERO interaction with Bri-Bri. She was in love with him and now she's mad at him, and by my count they have yet to exchange a single word.

Thursday was my first day back at school. We were eating blueberry muffins. I didn't eat any, remembering Halloween. Hilda didn't even ask why. She just eyed me suspiciously. Dad probably told her not to give me a hard time. That darn dad.

At the bus stop Sherry told me that Mitzi caught Emmy in the bathroom smoking a cigarette. I smiled and clapped appreciatively.

It's too bad the club wasn't there to serenade her!

Emmy was babbling away at Sherry who was staring into space. Some audience. Marsha was running back and forth from her desk to Daphne's. Daphne was staring at Brian but he was staring at Kelly. Kelly was glancing back and forth between me and Brian. I stared at my desk top.

"Welcome back, Maggie." said Mrs. Melnick "We missed you."
"Right." I mumbled.
"What did you say, Maggie?"
"I said 'Thanks."
"Oh." said Mrs. Melnick doubtfully.

At lunch Sam and Sherry were eating with Kelly still. I hesitated. Sherry spotted me. She pointed to the seat next to her. Darn, Trapped.

"Brian said he loved me yesterday over the phone. It was kind of embarassing because my stepmom was eavesdropping." Kelly blushed as Brian walked over.

Gee, Kelly, why don't you rub a gallon of salt in Maggie's wound? I mean, I know her anger is completely unjustified due to the whole never-having-actually-spoken-to-Brian factor, but still. Is it so difficult to refrain from talking about how much he luuuuurves you? Speaking of which, did anyone ever witness a 10-year-old boy profess his love over the phone? A show of hands, please.

"Hello, beautiful women." said Brian. "Maggie, glad to see you back."
"Brian do you mind. We're having a private discussion." said Sam, making her eyes wide.
"Sorry, ladies. Didn't mean to barge in." he apologized.
"Isn't he sweet?" said Kelly after Brian left.

Sweet? I'd say he's awfully smarmy for a fourth grader.

"Maggie we've decided to change the club name to, WE CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT BOYS. Are you in favor?" Sam told me, happy.
"Sure." I said.
"Maggie, can we still be friends?" Kelly asked me.
"I guess." I said.
"Oh, Maggie, that's great. Thanx a bunch." cried Kelly.

I don't think that "I guess" deserves such an enthusiastic response, Kel.

I was still a bit mad at Kelly. Brian was everything. Smart, sweet, cute, and charming. PERFECT. And Kelly got him. Kelly, who used to be such a tomboy until she met us. Now I wished we'd never met her. I still liked her some, though. A part of me would always like her and a part of me would always hate her.

Fourth grade is frigging rough, guys.

Maybe I should go back to Timmy.

Sherry liking Drake again. Maybe it would end up Me-Timmy, Sherry-Drake, Kelly-Brian, Sam. What about Sam? Oh well.

That was how I summed up page 12, and I remember I had a bit of writer's block after that. What would be the next twist of plot in my exciting tale? I took a break to get the ol' creative juices flowing again, and eventually returned with the following (now double-spaced!).

"I am really fed up." yelled Cassie at the top of her lungs. She stormed out of the room which was fine with me. She'd left her magazine in there anyway and that's what she'd been screaming about.

I sat down, satisfied, and opened the magazine. 'Modern Screen'. OK. Posters: Kirk Cameron...... oh, who am I kidding, I asked myself. I was just mad.... at Brian mostly. Brian, the Mummy Dummy, I thought.

The MUMMY DUMMY? What does that even mean? That might be up there with "report-on-Maine stealer."

Oh, forget it. I want to run away. Get away from all the confusion. Everyone says running away never helps. I didn't believe them.

It's like I had a Wheel o' Plot Devices, and once again the arrow landed on RUNNING AWAY.

I went upstairs and packed my bags. No one understands me, I thought sadly. They probably won't even notice I'm gone. A tear landed on my nightgown. This is painful.

I poked my head around the kitchen door. Good, no one was in there. I checked the cupboards carefully. My cup from the circus, an apple, some crackers, cookies, and the most important my Halloween candy.

Note to self: Most important survival food: Halloween candy.

I almost forgot. I'll need something to drink. I grabbed 5 Hi-C lemonade drink boxes. That should cover it.

I ran up the stairs with my bulging bag of food. I quickly pulled a blanket off my bed and snatched a pillow. Money. I'll need money. I shook the money out of my piggy bank and stuffed it into my purse. I bunched my food, clothes, sleeping stuff, pocket-sized photo album, cassette player radio, and some tapes into the biggest suitcase I could find. Old, gray with dirt, and ratty of course. It also smelled like my sister's shampoo. SICK. But, everything fit in it ok, so that was that.

I love that she brings a photo album and freaking cassette tapes.

On t.v. kids write their families a letter before they leave telling them why. I wanted to be original. I scribbled a short note to Sherry, though.

It said:

Sherry-
I am leaving because no one understands me, except for you. Life isn't fair and you know why. By the time you read this I hope to be out of the state. -Maggie (your pal)

Out of the state! I love it! Where's she planning on going? Pennsylvania?

I shoved the note into my pocket and picked up the large suitcase. Heavy. Too heavy. Nah. I tried again. Then I realized I forgot my purse. I ran back into my room and slung it over my shoulder. I made it down the stairs. Bump, step, bump, step. Thank god no one heard me.

I ran over to Sherry's and slid the note through the mailbox. Sherry ran out as I was trying to pick up the suitcase. She studied the note and squealed, "Can I come?"

I thought it over. "Yes." I finally answered. Sherry grinned.

"Great." she said. "Wait a second." Sherry dashed into the house and came out with a brown paper bag. "Clothes, food, money, flashlight, blanket, pillow, radio, tapes, batteries. You know."

I nodded. "Got an extra pair of shoes." I asked. I was amazed that Sherry could do that so quickly.

An extra pair of shoes! I had clearly given running away a LOT of thought.

Sherry clapped her hand over her mouth. "No. Wait just one more moment." I didn't have to wait. Sherry was back in a flash. "Where're we goin'?" she asked me.
I shrugged. How should I know, anyway.

Uh, maybe because you're the one running away! And what about the leaving-the-state plan? Get on the ball, Maggie!

"Let's go catch a bus. I know just the place." Sherry's eyes twinkled. She's got ideas, I thought. "On second thought, let's walk. It's not that far and busses cost money. Let me make a call inside. Hold on."

Sherry came out after a minute. She smiled. "Let's go." she cheerfully announced.

After a while we got there. I thought it was just a tree.

This is where the suspension of disbelief comes in. Are you guys ready? Take a few deep breaths. Here we go...

Sherry showed me the small hole. I got in first. Sherry gave me the suitcase and bag. She climbed in and shut a little door. She flipped on a light switch. We were on some stairs.

"Come on" said Sherry as she led me down them. Soon I saw a small door. Sherry fished a key out of her pocket and opened it. Inside I saw Sam and Kelly. They were sitting at a table in the middle of the room. Cards. Fish.

"This is what we've been doing after school when you never wanted to come." said Sam walking away from the table.

Uh, when was that? They rigged up a crazy inside-a-tree/underground hideout while she had the 24-hour flu?

When I first reread this I tried to reason that it could be a bomb shelter or other preexisting structure that they've turned into clubhouse, but the more I read it the more I cannot deny that a) it is somehow or other inside a tree and b) we are led to believe that they MADE IT THEMSELVES.

This is probably the time to tell you that I was a wee bit obsessed with underground homes as an elementary schooler. I used to draw picture upon picture of imagined subterranean dwellings. Generally each room in the house was a separate hole, with ladders leading from room to room. The floors were lined with straw (there was usually a separate room designated for straw storage), and the bathroom contained plumbing that led to a nearby water source. Seriously, I drew that in. I suppose it was only a matter of time before I wrote an underground lair into one of my stories.

"Yep." said Kelly. "Lookit." She pulled up a string from the floor. It was a door. I climbed down a ladder. We were in a bedroom. There were four beds-mattresses. One was bare-mine. One was pink with a Kirk Cameron poster over it and an Apple. Also there was a pamphlet that said California on it-Sam's. One bed was messy. A blue blanket was thrown over it. A paper saying 'I hate my cousin' and a photograph of Brian-Kelly's. Sherry's had a Patrick Swayze poster over it. It was purple with a math packet laying on it. There was an open book on it, too. A stuffed dog lay on the pillow.

These bed descriptions really drive home the fact that each character only has one or two defining interests. (The "I hate my cousin" paper? Priceless!) Although who knew Sherry was crazy for Swayze?

Kelly pointed to the empty bed. "You can put your stuff there. Look." She pushed a white sheet out of the way and we walked in. "The bathroom." she said. There was a toilet and a small tub.

They can install a bathtub, but they can't be assed to put up a simple door?

Then we came back up. They showed me the stove, sink, emergency exit [safety first!], phone, refridgerator, cupboards, and food.

"It's on my property." said Sam. She quickly added, "My folks don't know we did this, though."
"She rigged up the thing with the phone, heat, and running water." Kelly told me.
Sam shrugged. "I love electronics." she said.

What, you guys? She loves electronics! It's totally believable now.

"I thought you wanted to be a vet." I said.
"Nah. Just a cover up. I thought you wouldn't like me then."
"Are you kidding. I think it's cool."
"Really? Well, that's great. Welcome." Sam smiled warmly.

I made my bed. Mom and dad would never find me. They were away for the weekend anyway. Hilda wouldn't care, would she?

"Nope." said Kelly. She grinned. I blushed. I was thinking aloud again. Oooops.

No, I'm sure the housekeeper won't mind if one of the kids disappears on her watch. Whatever, there are four more at home.

Sam made coffee and doughnuts for dinner. Mmmmmmmm. Ahhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhh.

Pop 'n Fresh Dough? Or did she just have a doughnut-gasm?

Best dinner I ever had.

I fell asleep easily. The bed was so comfortable.

I had a weird dream. We all lived in this little house. Good.

When I woke up I was still in the little bedroom. It hadn't been a dream. I was the only one in the bedroom, though. Sleepily, I climbed up the ladder and opened the door.

Sherry was sprawled across the rug, obviously into the book she was reading. Kelly was sitting on the couch watching cartoons. Sam was cooking breakfast. Pancakes. Yummy.

"Good morning, sleepy head." Sam grinned at me before turning back to her food. "Want to help?" she asked.

After breakfast was served, Sherry and Kelly complimented us. I decided I loved making breakfast.

"I told Brian I'd call him last night." Kelly said suddenly.
"Well, go ahead. There aren't any rules about using the phone. If there are, please inform me." Sam answered.
"No. You got me. I was just feeling weird about sleeping under a tree." said Kelly, shrugging.
"Me too." Sherry called from the bathroom.
"These walls are like paper." cried Sam, shaking her head.
"Nope. They're like wood." I said.
Sam laughed. "Maggie," she shouted between giggles "You are such a te- so weird." Sam stopped herself just in time.

So are they under a tree or, like, IN a tree? Why do I bother trying to make sense of this?

"Shhh." said Kelly. "I'm on the phone. Hello. Is Brian there? Yes this is.... WHAT? He is.... 1879 Fairmount St. Luke's.... Yes... Ok... uh... tell him I called... if you can. All right. Ok. 'Bye." Kelly hung up and started to cry.

What in God's name happened to Brian? Give the Plot Device Roulette wheel a spin, and you might be able to figure it out!

NEXT TIME: The thrilling (okay, rushed) conclusion.

We Can Live Without Boys... Can't We?, part 2

LAST TIME: Maggie and her BFF, Sherry, decided to give up boys... because their friend Marsha got asked on a date and they didn't. I'm still not sure about that logic. The twosome then talked a load of crap behind Marsha's back, giggled evilly because she didn't know that her crush was moving, and avoided her the entire week before her date. Marsha totally called them on their jealousy, and they tried to turn it around like, "NO, you're a SHOW-OFF!" (Ooooooh!) I, for one, wasn't buying it.

Sherry and I didn't talk to Marsha anymore. Our lives seemed a lot better. When I told Sherry that she started laughing uncontrollably. Then she told me I was such a tease. Why do people think I'm a tease?

In science our teacher handed back our scores on dissecting worms. I got an F. I hope this doesn't go on our record. I slipped Sherry a note. It said: WHAT DID YOU GET? She answered: A. HOW ABOUT YOU? I answered: F. BUT YOU WEREN'T HERE. She answered: HOW DO YOU THINK I GOT AN A. I stifled a giggle. Sherry made a face.

Does that make sense to anyone? No? Moving on then...

Sherry and I were down at Study Hall [in fourth grade???] when Timmy walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. My heart was pounding. I swiveled around in my seat. "Yeah." I said.
"Well," said Timmy "Drake and I were sorry we couldn't show up last week for the movie last week."
I stifled a giggle. "Uh-huh." I said.
"Well," he said. "We were wondering if you'd like to go to a movie on Fri."
"Fri.?" I asked.
"Friday." he answered.

I love this imaginary world where 10-year-old boys ask you out on dates. And use awkward day-of-the-week slang.

"Wel-"
Sherry cut me off. "We're much too busy." she said.
"OK" said Timmy. He shrugged his shoulders as he left. Boy, I thought, he sure is cute. Sherry's voice brought me back to the real world.
"Sorry," she said. "I thought we'd given up boys."
"We have." I lied. "I was gonna dog him out."
"Well, you had that starry look in your eyes."
"Don't you trust me?"
"Yeah. Let's just forget about it."
"OK" And we went to McDonald's.

Did they just cut class? In FOURTH GRADE?

"Class," said Mrs. Melnick. "We have 2 new students. Samantha Trainline." Samantha was beautiful. Her long blonde hair reached almost to her waist. Her big green eyes shone with pure delight. She was tall and slim. "Call me Sam." she said. I liked her.

"Laurie Terd." The class went WILD. James snorted, Daphne honked, Robby fell out of his chair, and Tiffanie got the hiccups. The only ones who weren't laughing were Laurie, Mrs. Melnick, and Jon. I hope he likes her now instead.

Mrs. Melnick went through a lot of garbage over Laurie's name. Laurie looked as if she were on the verge of tears. Serves the fat hog right, I thought.

Wait just a goddamn minute. She deserves to be ridiculed to the point of tears—on her first day at a new school, no less—because she's chubby and has the misfortune of having a last name that sounds just like a word for poo? I don't know what to say, you guys. Clearly the point of Blubber was lost on me. Instead of thinking, "Bullying is really horrible; I will never treat anyone that way," my reaction appears to have been, "BLUBBER! What a hilarious nickname!"

Jon explained, "It's a perfectly normal name for-"
"A turd." exclaimed Mitzi, a broad smile on her face.
Laurie stood up. She sure looks hefty, I thought. [Um, screw you, Maggie.]
Laurie said, "I come from a long line of-"
"Turds." proclaimed Drake.
Mrs. Melnick gave the whole class detention, except for Jon and Laurie.

Serves those tall and slim bitches right!

I would like to make it clear that the character of Laurie Terd is entirely fictional. I did not actually harass any unfortunately named girls in the fourth grade. Apparently I just had a secret desire to IN MY MIND. (Is that better or worse? Good God.)

Sam, Sherry, and I are good friends. Sam can live without boys, too. Laurie's name is now, The Turd. At lunch, Sam came up to us and said, "There's a rumor going around that, embrace yourself, The Turd digs up her rear and eats it." Sherry gagged herself with her spoon. I pretended to barf.

First of all, no way is that rumor true. Who would do that? Second, I remember my mom's friend Linda read this book back in the day and said she thought it was "mean." At the time I was all, "Mean? Please, woman, it's LIFE." Now I'm thinking that mean doesn't even begin to describe it...

Sam, Sherry, and I formed a club called, WE CAN LIVE WITHOUT BOYS. One day we wore white tank tops and tight black shorts. Timmy, Drake, and James whistled at us. We giggled. I felt so evil.

Remember how Maggie kept wondering why everyone was calling her a tease? That could be why. Oh, or this:

Sam, Sherry, and I are going to be hookers for Halloween. We have some really great costumes. The boys' eyes will pop out their heads. We can't wait for Halloween. We are all going trick-or-treating together. That's how I build up my candy stash.

That's right, HOOKERS. Apparently "living without boys" translates to "taunting boys with your sexy fourth grade whore-wear."

Sam says I'm a tease, too. So, I have come to believe that I, Maggie Kertz, am a genuine tease. I told Sherry. She said, "It's not bad." Mitch said, "You sure are." Cassie said, "It's one of your better qualities." Sam said, "I was only kidding."

The club has meetings 3 times a week. Monday, 3:30, Sam. Wednesday, 4:00, Sherry. Friday [don't you mean Fri.?], 3:45, Me.

"Yo." said Daphne. She walked up to the club with Mitzi close behind. I wondered what they wanted.

"Yo." said Sherry, her mouth full of food. Daphne turned up her nose. I gave her a look that meant, WE ARE EATING. CAN'T YOU SEE? Mitzi had a blank look on her face. Daphne shot me a dirty one.

"So," Daphne propped herself up on her elbow. "I hear you gals started up a club. Can I join? Mitz and I were so TERRIBLY bored. Weren't we?"

Daphne wisped her hand through the air. "There's a draft in here." she announced. When she realized no one was listening, she went on. "So I went to get advice on all the newest clubs and which to choose. Down at Jenni's place. Mitz, remember you came, too."

Jenni is some sort of gossip-mongering goddess. She's like the fourth grade equivalent of Perez Hilton.

Mitzi nodded her head furiously, while Daphne sat proudly in her seat. I wish I could've video taped it.

I said, "Can you li-"
"No way can join, man." Sam broke in.
There was a look of pure displeasure on Mitzi's face. Daphne looked as if in a state of shock.
"That's right." Sherry agreed "Ya have to be... uh... qualified."
"And I'm NOT?" asked Daphne, shaking her bottom in the process. On purpose, too.
"Sorry." I said in a small voice, shaking my head.
Daphne trudged off, her skirt swaying side to side. Mitzi followed, a limp sack of potatoes.

Sam told all of us the lasted 'Turd' rumors. One day she came up to us and said, "The latest. [As opposed to the lasted.] Jenni says, 'Do ya gotta boyfriend.' Turd says, 'Yes, ma'am.' MA'AM? Can you believe it? Jenni gives her 'the look' and says, 'Who, what, when, where, and why?' All of the 5 W's. Didn't forget even 1. Turd says, "Who; you don't know him-John horowitz. What: a male human being. When; last year. Where: Snow White, the movie. Why: I gave him my popcorn."

Poor Laurie Terd cannot catch a break. But I really wish she would "dog them out" instead of calling them "ma'am."

Robby's last day. Marsha was in tears. He walked up to the front of the room to The Turd's desk. "You" he said pointing at The Turd "Are the only one for me."

The whole entire class stared up in disbelief at the front of the room as Jon made his way up there.

"You leave h-h-h-her a-a-alone." said Jon, stuttering as he claimed his thank-god-it-wasn't-me woman. Jon can't take a joke.

"You like Maggie. You always look at her." said Marsha. "Why aren't I the one for you. All I did." (At the last part she was speaking to Robby.)

"I like Maggie." said Steph coming in the door. "Hilda had me bring your lunch. You forgot it. Marsha, you're stuck-up. Robby? 'Bye." I love my little sister.

She's a chip off the old block of obnoxiousness, all right.

"Jenni," Sam called "Wait up."
"Huh?" asked Jenni, looking very impatient.
"Hi." Sherry and I said in turn, as if rehearsed.

"Cut the phony act. I gotta run." Jenni glanced nervously at her watch. "I ain't go all day you know." she reminded us. "What do you want?"

These shy, overweight girls are not going to slander themselves, you know!

"Data." said Sam.
Data, I thought, what kind of data?
"On clubs."
"On competition." sighed Sherry, agreeing fully.
"Yep." I said "Uh-huh."

Competition? What the... ?

Lunch break, bathroom break. Sam, Sherry, and I walked into the bathroom. There at the sink sat Kelly Ann Marie, smoking a cigarette. In my mind I changed "Smokin' in the Boys' Room" to "Smokin' in the Girls' Room".

I sang, "Smokin' in the girls' room."
"Boom bop boom." sang Sam and Sherry.
"Yeaaaaah. Smokin' in the girls' room."
"Whoaaaaa yeaaaaah."

Holy crap! They just broke into song!

"Ugh." said Kelly.

Kelly is the newest member of the club. She respects boys but, can live without them. Kelly has problems at home, that's why she smoked. Her cousin, Emmy, said smoking could cure your worst problems. Emmy, it just so happens, is the family troublemaker. Kelly's parents are divorced and, her dad's new wife is a pain. What's new?

Wait, wait, smoking CAN'T cure your problems?

"Get this." called Kelly, her red hair in a tight knot on the top of her head. "Emmy's switched schools and she'll be coming here. Oh god, I swear the school will have a false fire alarm some kid set the first day she comes here. I'll bet the kid who set it's initials are E.M. I hate Emmy."

That might be the most awkwardly phrased paragraph ever written.

"This is Emmy Martinson, class." said Mrs. Melnick. Emmy was gorgeous. Her curly red hair bounced around on her shoulders, glistening in the morning sun. Her sharp green eyes twinkled like shiny glass marbles. Everyone stared.

"Omigod." muttered Kelly.
"Whatcha mean? THAT is a priceless piece of art." said James. "HOT STUFF."

Wow, it's like I had never heard a boy speak. EVER.

"THAT, Lizard-breath, is my cousin."
"You're related? I see no resemblance."
"Color blind. Look, we both have red hair."
"Ya do? Oh, yeah, right."
"Look," said Kelly, yanking the rubber band out of her hair. "See?" she said as her red curls tumbled onto her shoulders.

"Kelly. James. Stop. Emmy, sit there." said Mrs. Melnick, pointing to a panic-stricken....... oh no.... SHERRY.

"Kirk Cameron is the most gorgeous person I have ever seen in my entire life." said Sam handing us a picture.

"Really," said Kelly "How about George Michael? I want your sex."

"Well," said Sam, ignoring Kelly's remark "This summer I'm going to Los Angeles, California to get Kirk's autograph."
"Neat" said Sherry.

"Did you know that George Michael comes from Austrailia Europe? Accent and all." said Kelly, changing the subject.

Ah yes, the distinctive "European" accent.

"Neat" said Sherry.

That was a section of Monday's meeting.

Way to live without boys, club! Well done! Oh, wait a second...

"I can't believe that Emmy." Sherry stomped angrily over to the table. "Ya know what she did? She took my report on Maine out of my desk while I was at my flute lesson. Then, she threw it in the garbage. She makes me sick."

"I hate Ms. Amano. Na, na. Hol ze fingas like dis. I really don't care how the heck I hold my fingers. Paying ze fute is vewy deficoat. And I don't care how I play 'ze fute'. I swear. God, I hate her." Sam walked over carelessly.

Apparently all Sam heard was "flute lesson." Either that or "Give us your worst French accent starting... NOW!"

From behind us there was a loud, clear giggle. Kelly rolled her eyes and covered her face with her hands. Sherry gagged herself. She knew that laugh, too. Sam just stood there with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. It could only be....... EMMY. Ooooops.

"God," said Emmy "You look like an earthquake hit. I, myself, would prefer to be where the earthquake is hitting. California is a dream. Mom and dad said they'd take me. I hear it's like murder in the summertime. Like heat wave city. I have a major crush on Chad Allen. Ever seen his sister, or should I say twin, Charity? Big nose alert. She's real good at gymnastics, though? Gimme a break. Well, what about you?" At least Emmy was being herself.

Does Emmy have ADHD, or has she switched from nicotine to speed? Also, this story spares no one—not even Chad Allen's not-famous twin sister, who I'm sure was quite good at gymnastics.

By the way, is anyone else amused that of the three "hot" celebrities mentioned so far, two are gay and the third is a freaky televangelist?

On Thursday I found myself at Kelly's house for a club meeting. Sherry was saying, "Kirk Cameron is not a boy. He's a man. I CAN'T live without HIM. [Well, at least we cleared that up. Boys, off-limits. MEN, however, fair game.] Kelly, you should have told us what a showoff Emmy is. Big mouth, too. I thought she would never stop. Sam, you must feel terrible. Talking so mean about California in the summer when that's when you're going. I hate her."

In Emmy's defense, I don't think she was aware of Sam's vacation plans when she made the infamous "heat wave city" comments. And anyway, it was obviously the caffeine pills talking. I hear they can cure your worst problems. Even PROBLEMS AT HOME.

"Let's talk about Halloween. It's tomorrow. I want to see what Emmy is." contributed Sam.

NEXT TIME: Embrace yourselves, because Halloween arrives in all its prostitute-tastic glory, and the outfits are described right down to the hot pink leather boots!

Guest authors: On crafty horses and smelly brothers

As promised, more guest authors! First up is obie119, whose all-consuming horse obsession led her to turn a school assignment about Valentine's Day into horse-tastic historical fiction about a pair of globe-trotting animals.

Says obie119: This story of mine from second grade is very, very odd. And yes, I did indeed write “copyright Feb 1984” at the top. I was obsessed with horses so the subject of the story is not a surprise. In fact, 1984 was the year that my art teacher declared a moratorium on my drawing/painting/sculpting horses (no joke!). I will note that after the word “tornado,” I drew a little tornado right on the page. Allendale is where I grew up. I am assuming that our assignment was to write a story about Valentine’s Day.

Copyright Feb 1984 / My Valentine Horse / Creative Writing

My Valentine Horse's name was Hardy. And he always ate Valentine's Day candy. You know, I didn't own him. It's like this. In 1817, a man named Mr. Mean owned him except his name was It. And Mr. Mean lived in England.

Anyway, a jaguar named Jaggy was in a circus. He was trained, but he hated the climate. But a year later, in 1818, something happened. A small tornado came onto the circus, but Jaggy got away. Now Hardy made a can that could float. So Jaggy and Hardy went to South America. Jaggy held a sign that said: From Allendale, New Jersey. So they went to New Jersey. There were 18 storms! At Allendale, they found Jaggy's owner, and she liked Hardy. That was February 14, 1823, and with all the loving, it was Valentine's Day. The End.

I kind of feel like I need the CliffsNotes version of this! Let's attempt to review, shall we? It's like this: In 1817, Hardy, a horse with a penchant for Valentine's Day candy, is residing in England with Mr. Mean, but as Mr. Mean refers to him as "It" (MEAN!), that's clearly a crap living situation. So Hardy (somehow) hooks up with a rain-hating, circus-performing jaguar who—in the midst of the great tornado of 1818!—is able to escape from the circus.

Luckily for Jaggy, Hardy is like the Thomas fucking Jefferson of horses and invents a "floating can" in which the two set sail from Britain to South America. But Jaggy is so goddamn picky (what, he doesn't like the climate in South America either?), he will be satisfied with no location short of Allendale, NJ.

Getting there, however, takes five years—I'm assuming in part because of the 18 storms they encounter along the way. How exactly do they travel from South America to the Jerse, though? Jaggy's sign evokes visions of hitchhiking, but was it even possible to hitchhike in 1818? On a wagon? If you're a HORSE? I'm guessing that wouldn't really fly with the settlers, so maybe they walk (which would certainly explain the five-year timeline) or even bust out the ol' floating can again. Can you imagine being stuck out at sea in a can with a jaguar for five years, eating nothing but conversation hearts? Harrowing!

In any case, they eventually arrive in Allendale on February 14, 1823, and promptly find Jaggy's long-lost owner, and everyone is so freaking psyched that President Monroe (yeah, I just looked that up) has no choice but to create a national holiday of luuuuuv. (And candy, 'cause Hardy likes that shit.)

At some point Hardy comes to be owned by obie119 in 1984. That part I'm not so sure about unless Hardy is immortal. Which would be awesome!

Next up is BadKat, who has sent us an array of elementary school goodies. First, some school writing assignments from third grade:

About Me

I have blond hair and green eyes. My favorite friend is Rachael and Jennifer. I like Ryan C. to. We ride our bikes together to the park some times. I have one sister, Alea. We are good sisters. I have two brothers, Jett and Bradley. They are O.K. I have one dad, Tom one mom, Rachel one step-mom, Brenna. I'm 8½.

(Teacher's comment: Write more about you)

What Makes Me happy

Our class created a Chienese play called "The Shirt of Happyness"!! I learned that you don't have to have a shirt to be happy. The play was fun, exciteing to!

(Teacher's comment: I'd liked to have read more about this!)

I don't know about you guys, but I'd be pretty bummed if I didn't have a shirt. I'd also be cold.

I am a cigarette

When you smoke me you can get very bad breth. I am made with nicotene and tar. Tar can hurt your lungs and nicotine speeds up the heart and that is not good for you! I can cause tooth decay and when you start smoking me you just cant stop. I am very bad for you health.

(Teacher's comment: Very good! You made some great statements!)

Wow, I really feet like I AM that cigarette. Stay away! When you start smoking me—much like when you pop the top off a can of Pringles—YOU JUST CAN'T STOP! And I'll give you bad breth! BE FOREWARNED!

We also have some of BadKat's school journal entries from fourth grade.

Says BadKat: My creative writing booklet from the fourth grade contained daily journal entries where I was forced to record my thoughts or short creative stories. From March until June of 1992, I chose to bitch about the weather every day. I even have a barometer scale scribbled on the inside of the back cover. Because then, like now, I was obsessed with the weather. I have always enjoyed observing the weather and then bitching and complaining about said weather, while living in one of the most meteorologically volatile states in the country [that'd be Minnesota]. You can also tell how impatient I am and how I wished I could be doing anything but writing in this damn booklet.

March 30, 1992: The weather is sunny. I'm excited that the weather is sunny and I'm going to my uncle's house to dinner. I'm going bye myself and with my sister and not my brothers. My brothers smell bad.

I'll bet that's why they weren't invited to dinner.

March 31, 1992: The weather is partly sunny. The high and low are '35 and '20. I'm not happy it is Tuesday and I'm in school. I'm happy I do not have girl scouts becuase me and Rachael hate Heather.

April 2, 1992: The weather is sunny and warm. I'm happy the rollar skateing party is tonight. The birds, like Robbens, are coming back.

Remember how great roller-skating parties were? We used to go to United Skates of America, which had maybe the best roller-rink name ever!

April 3 1992: The weather is sunny and warm. I'm sad that my step-mom cut her thumb with my dad's razor blade (it was a utility knife) and I'm happy that the carnival is tonight.

April 7, 1992: The weather is couldy and mild I'm happy we are doing the book badge in girl scouts tonight. ("me and Rachael" must have made up with Heather by this point)

April 21, 1992: It is cloudy and rainey. I'm releved that my glass were fond because, I didn't zip my bag up at home and my glasses fell out and someone fond them for me! I'm happy that my sister is going to kindergarden conection tonight and grandma is comeing.

After this entry, my 4^th grade teacher, Mrs. Bitchface, wrote to "watch my sentences - add more detail - watch the writing." So the attempts to increase material begin:

April 23, 1992: The weaher is rainy and cold. I'm happy that it is Thursday and that tomorrow is the end of the week.

9:55am (only entry that is marked with a time): wemen wear komotos for spicel accations. Keiko lives in a huge house with a huge garden and the schools in Japan are very different then ours. (huh?)

April 24, 1992: I glad that today is Friday and it is almost saturday and I get to sleep in tomorrow. Keiko is very fun! (again, huh?)

April 27, 1992: The weather is sunny and warm. I'm happy that my Grandama is bringing me some new Christopher Pike books tomorrow. I liked fall in to darkness but Mrs. Ringlien says we can't read those books for quiet read time or for a book report. Emelia said that her mom would call our school.

BadKat, I love that your grandma bought you Christopher Pike. But look out, because it sounds like Emelia's mom wants to have a Christopher Pike book bonfire!

April 29, 1992: The weather is partly sunny and warm and I'm happy that it will be so nice today. We are beaginning about Japan (well that explains the Japan crap). Both men and wemen in Japan ware kimono and I hope my step-mom likes her birthday present.

May 6, 1992: It's cloudy and warm I'm happy that I don't have reading, or math, or anything today and that we go to the zoo. I'm happy that it is Twins Day (the baseball team) tommorrow and that we get to have a parad.

May 12, 1992: The weather is sunny and warm. If you went to Japan you would see mountony land and be spending time outdoors. I'm happy today is grandparents day. Rachael and I think that we want to read the Matchlock Gun for our book reports.

May 14, 1992: I'm in truble and I hope that my mom will let me go camping and I hope that the camping trip is not put off. I hope I don't get stuck with a coupl of people on the trip. (I wonder who I was avoiding at the Girl Scout Camp Out? And what, no weather today?)

Oooooooooooh, BadKat's in troooooooouble. Hope she didn't get stuck with Heather on the camping trip. Hate her!

May 18, 1992: The weather is sunny and warm. I'm going to tryouts for the disric cyor. I hope I get in to cyhor. Part one of the tryouts is today and part two of the tryouts are tomorrow. My aunt told me my voice was beutiful and that it made her cry.

I love the creative spelling of choir. LOVE it!

May 22, 1992: The weather is cloudy and very humed. I'm happy that there is only one week and a half of school left. I'm happy that I get to go up to the cabin in Grad Rapeds (Grand Rapids) for this weekend. Rachael and I like to play with my dog, Teako. Did you hear the Mount Pleasant fre departmant's siren? (I live nowhere near Mt. Pleasant).

May 29, 1992: It is sunny and pretty warm. I'm going to the beautician and I wish she would set my hair (this is not true because my mom was a cosmetologist. So, what? And setting my hair? WHAT?). I hope that every one this summer will Pledge Alleagiance on Saturday July 4, 1992. Rachael and I took Gary's apple and then hidden it in the tire swing. "Where did you put that apple, asked Gary. He was mad and he is going to put our rain coats under Rona's front pottch.

Stealing Gary's apple? You girls were OUT OF CONTROL! I'm taking away your Christopher Pike books!!! Actually, this might be my favorite entry because of the seemingly unrelated topics of BadKat's desire for old-lady hair; her earnest patriotism; and the wholesome pranks involving a tire swing and raincoats.

June 1, 1992: I'm happy it's warm and almost summer vacation. We set our books on Wes's desk and he siad it was all right. In July, Rachael is moving to Summer Green road. That is closer to me and makes me happy. Yesterday Teako, my dog, ran relly quickly after my cat Jezebel and she quickly climbed a tree. My dad got her down with his ladder but it took a long time. Clair, my other cat does not run away from Teako and once she scrached her on the nose.

June 3, 1992: It is very hot. I'm happy that we got our pass for the pool and that it is the last day of school. I'm not going to miss my teachers and I'm not sort of sad. I hope I get Mr. T. next year. Me and Rachael go to camp in 3 weeks! I am very happy and I wish this year she would do the Polar Bear swimming with me!

"I'm not going to miss my teachers and I'm not sort of sad" is hilarious. Way to stick it to Mrs. Bitchface!

That's it for this round of guest writing, but if you're soooooooooooo, etc., jealous and have some cringe-worthy works of your own that you'd like to share, for God's sake, e-mail me!: 30isthenew13@gmail.com.

NEXT TIME: A discussion of one of the key components of elementary school social life: the club.

Too cool for cigarettes: "Cynthia's Friend"

Hello, and welcome to our third story with the word "friend" in the title! In this gem, new-kid-in-town Cynthia is faced with the age-old question: unpopularity or lung cancer?

On a side note, this is also the first of my stories to be written on a typewriter. Yes, I was in third grade, but I was serious, people. Conveniently, my grandfather owned a store that sold used office furniture, so my sister and I were soon outfitted with not only typewriters, but metal typewriter stands and wheeled desk chairs as well. Wheeee! But back to the ethical dilemmas . . .

Cynthia's Friend

"Nancy, can my friend, Sara Blakes, come for dinner?" Cynthia asked.

I believe Nancy is the housekeeper. There are actually several upcoming stories that feature housekeepers. (Thanks, Harriet the Spy and/or any number of television shows from the '70s and '80s.) I never at any point in time had a housekeeper myself, but they seemed cool.

"Does Jhonny have a friend?" Nancy asked. "He's not done a thing since we been moved. I think he misses all his friends."

"Since we been moved?" Sweet Jesus, tell me that is not Ebonics! I'm really, really hoping not, as I grew up in a neighborhood that was about 50% black (and, oddly enough, about 25% ultra-Orthodox Jew), and—especially in elementary school—I had a ton of black and biracial friends. It hadn't really occurred to me at this point that someone's race would be a factor in, well, ANYTHING. Plus, a large number of the TV housekeepers were white (or those housekeepers with starring roles, anyway—thanks, media). And when they were black, I was always sensing sexual tension between them and the white characters. Like when I would watch Gimme a Break, I was always waiting for Nell Carter and the dad to hook up. Tony and Angela were making out, so clearly Nell and her employer were next. (Mr. Belvedere, on the other hand, definitely did not have genitalia. You cannot convince me otherwise.) However, it's hard to argue with "since we been moved." Yikes.

"He'll get over it" Was the answer "Besides . . . he has Spot."
"I know." Nancy admitted. "Just go along and get your friend. Can't stop it anyhow."
"Oh, Nancy, thanks! So much!" And she ran outside.
"Sara, you can! You can come to dinner! Thanks for waiting! Oh, thanks!"
"No problem." Sara was just too cool, thought Cynthia. Too cool!
"Hey," continued Sara "you got a cigarette?" Cynthia was stunned.

As am I, since they are, after all, nine.

"A cigarette?" asked Cynthia.
"Yeah. You got one?"
"You smoke?"
"Yeah." she said. "So?"
"Well," Be strong, she told herself. "I--don't."
"Well, you aren't good enough to be my friend."

Because smoking makes you eeeeeeeeevil.

And, [in a puff of cigarette smoke!] Sara Blakes was gone forever.

I also like to picture her riding off into the sunset with the Marlboro Man. Possibly atop Joe Camel.

"Oh, Nancy, forget Sara. She smoked." Cynthia told her.
"Check next door. There's a girl-Elizabeth."

I appreciate that Nancy doesn't take advantage of this obvious opportunity for an anti-smoking sermon. She's pretty much like, "Whatevs, you crazy (possible smoker) third graders! Can't stop it anyhow."

"Okay." And she went next door.
"Hello." a tall, thin, girl asked when she knocked.
"Are you Elizabeth?"
"Yeah. You can call me Liz." she said. "You move in next door?"
"Yeah-Liz."
"Great! Hey, don't look so sad. I know what moving's like. Leavin' friends. Findin' new ones. It's hard. It is. I moved in last year."
"Really? Hey, you want to come to dinner?"

Shouldn't she, like, check Liz's fingers for nicotine stains first or something?

"Sure." Liz said. "What's your name?"
"Cynthia. I'll be right back."

Oh man! She invites her over before she even introduces herself? I fear for Cynthia when she starts dating.

She ran into the kitchen.
"Nancy, can Liz come to dinner?"
"Sure."
"Oh, Nancy, thanks! Thanks-so much."

THE END

Ahhh . . . third grade really was a simpler time, wasn't it? Do you remember how much anti-smoking, -drinking, and -drugging propaganda they used to throw at us? I have a hilarious anti-drug poster I drew (in crayon, thank you) of me and my siblings sticking our tongues out at drugs. Nyah nyah, drugs! Unfortunately, I just moved and I have no freaking clue which box it's in. Or if it would fit in my scanner anyway. I have to admit, though, I have never—to this day!—taken even a drag on a cigarette. So some of that crap must have sunk in.

NEXT TIME: Fourth grade in the hizzy! Although I'm not quite sure where to start . . .