GG the Diary of a Space Case
Confessions of an Eighth Grade Drama Queen
Molly Shaffer
GG the Diary of a Space Case:
Confessions of an Eighth Grade Drama Queen
Published by Malyndi Shaffer at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 by Malyndi Shaffer
All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, photographic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher. No patent liability is assumed with respect to the use of the information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible had it not have been for the incredible support of my attentive husband Brian. He made me believe in myself when I felt that being a writer was an impossible dream. Thanks my love! I would also like to thank my step-daughter Hannah for reading and reviewing the book. Her suggestions helped make me become a better writer. Thanks to my step-son Caleb for being so loving and supportive. Thanks to my son Sean for constantly asking “Are you real Mommy?”
My father made it possible for me to dream through adversity, and many of my dreams have come true because of his courageousness. Thank you Dad! Thank you, Melinda, for making my dad so happy. I am grateful to call you Mom!
This thank you is a long time coming! Thanks Nai and Sanjae for everything that you both have sacrificed in order for me to see my dreams become realities. I love you Bella!
Thank you especially to the honest criticism of my best friends (especially Donia, Jenn, and Mindy), my family, my Godchildren and their powerful Moms, and my fellow educators. Thanks, Christa and Woodside, for all of your help in making this book polished.
This is a special thank you to all of my students (both old and new). I want you to know that I may only be your teacher for a year, but I am your supporter for life!
Finally to my mother, and the many moms that she sent my way, thank you for making me shine. I hope I make you proud! You’re in my heart, in my laugh, and in the love that I am not afraid to share with people.
To anyone else that may feel a crack within their faith…DARE TO DREAM!
This book is dedicated to my mother. I love and miss you.
October 6th
Dear Diary,
Today I’m 13 years old. Whoop-dee-do, like I actually feel great about a dumb old birthday where the number is so unlucky that they have a whole series of horror movies dedicated to it. Whatever! I feel like such a dork-head right now, because Dad totally doesn’t get what it’s like to be in junior high. I mean, especially since I’m the only girl at the school that can’t wear makeup or go out on dates. It sucks so badly!
Oh yeah, I’m not supposed to say that word because it supposedly means something absolutely heinous. Like I know what the heck he means by that. Well, Dad, here’s what I think about my thirteenth birthday: it SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, by the way diary, you were the only thing that was semi-cool about this totally crud-filled day. Hey, I just realized that I started writing in you and complaining about problems before I properly introduced myself.
My name is Gracie Garcia, but everyone calls me GG. My mom named me Gracie after the Spanish word gracías. She said that she wanted to name me “Thank you” because I was a gift from God. I guess she wasn’t supposed to have any more kids, and that supposedly made her all depressed. Then one day she found out that miracles can happen, because she was pregnant with me.
So here I am, the one-in-a-million baby. I think that’s like the only spectacular thing that I’ve ever done. I’m totally not spectacular. I have ugly poop brown hair, dirt brown eyes, big lips, an even bigger butt, nonexistent boobs, and, oh yeah, I’m like thirty thousand million jillion feet taller than all of the boys at my school! (Is that even a number?)
Okay, as you can already tell, I’m a little dramatic. At least that’s what everyone tells me, but they don’t get it. Everything awful always happens to me. Okay, for example, tonight was the first dance at Streeter Junior High, and I was totally shocked that my dad was even going to let me go. He’s a little protective, being that my mom’s not around anymore. (I’ll get to that later). Anyway, the dance was something that I was utterly crazy about, because I just knew that Derrick Dean would ask me to dance. I had fantasized that while we were dancing, he’d look into my eyes and be my first ever--real life--kiss!
Derrick is the cutest, most popular guy at my school, and I’m not taller than him either! So I got new jeans and a new white tank top with jewels around the neck for my birthday, and my sister, Gabrielle (we call her Gabby), actually did my hair. She never does anything remotely nice for me, being that she’s in the 11th grade. I even got to use her new lip gloss that’s strawberry flavored, although I don’t think she knows that she lent it to me yet.
I was so happy! I felt beautiful. Well, at least as beautiful as a flat-chested, bubble-butted, wonder-lipped freak can look. I was standing outside of the gym, casually waiting to see if my best friend, Melanie, would come soon. Okay, so I was really standing around because Derrick was talking to his other hot guy friends. I noticed that they were looking at me, so I pretended that my shoe was untied and I bent down to tie it. I tried to do this in a way to show off my curves, because I had overheard, okay eavesdropped, on Gabby and her best friend, Reese, (she’s really annoying) talking about how guys like girls with “junk in the trunk.” I think that means a big butt.
Anyway, I was bending over so that Derrick could see my junky trunk, when, all of a sudden, a dumb, dork-headed dweeb named David Lara swung the gym door open. The door ended up slamming right into my “junk” and tossing me a million feet into the air only to make me land in the smelliest, dirtiest, most disgusting mud puddle ever to live on the face of the Earth. Let’s just say this was not the impression that I wanted Derrick to have burned into his memory. I wanted him to notice me, but not because I reeked of raw sewage.
Everyone started howling with laughter, and all I could do was get up and run as fast as I could to the nearest, darkest corner. I am thoroughly sure that on Monday I will have to relocate to an entirely new school because I will never ever in a million years be able to live this nightmare down.
Now the only guy that will ever want to kiss my poop-smelling, strawberry-flavored monster lips is the dweeby nerd-faced David Lara. I just know that one of his nasty, white, pus-filled pimples is going to pop in my face, and that his dandruffy eyebrows are going to infect mine. GOD, why can’t Mom be here to make everything better?
She’d have made me popcorn and ice cream because I like to mix them together, and we would have stayed up watching her old 80’s movies. She really loved the classic movie Sixteen Candles. We would have laughed so hard when the foreign exchange student said, “What’s happening, hot stuff?” It bites that she had to get stupid breast cancer. I mean, why the heck did God do that to her? She was the only one who would have made me realize that it’s okay to be thirteen and flat-chested, because the cancer made her thirty and flat-chested.
Okay, now this birthday really reeks because I’m crying and ruining your pretty pink pages. Well, at least at the end of that movie the girl got kissed on her cruddy birthday. Tonight, the only thing I kissed was wet, disgusting, smelly mud! Good night, and let’s pray that tomorrow Dad agrees to let me leave the country as a foreign exchange student to Asia because I think that I may be safe from the rumor mill over there.
Always Awkward,
GG
October 7th
Dear Diary,
So Dad’s not up for the Asia trip. Instead, he said that I needed to make a trip to the laundry room to wash my brand new muddy clothes. He said something else about responsibility, blah, blah, respect, blah, blah, pride, blah, blah. I swear, sometimes he can be so annoying. He dwells on the most ridiculous things like chores, homework, money, etc. I mean, doesn’t he get it that life, as I know it, is officially over? Maybe I can talk to Father Mitchell, the Priest at my church, and see if it isn’t too early to consider a career as a nun.
Another weird thing happened yesterday. Usually on holidays Dad’s really depressed. I mean, like sleep in the bedroom and not eat solid food depressed, but yesterday he seemed fine. Then at breakfast, I overheard my sister ask how his date went last night. I completely froze. So that’s why he let me go to the dance. What a snake! I thought that he finally trusted me like an adult, when all that he really wanted to do was take some gross lady out for a night on the town. Not that I’d know anything about that because, in case you forgot, I’m not allowed to date! All of this was going through my head when Dad said, “Hey, Space Case, close your mouth so you don’t swallow a fly!”
What an absolute joke! I could not believe how insensitive he was being. I mean, Mom just died two years ago, and he’s already trying to replace her! Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he calls me a space case and accuses me of eating insects! I am outright disgusted! I can’t believe how low and putrid my dad is. I bet that my mom is crying in heaven right this second because Dad took some grimy dog-faced female to dinner. Who does he think he is…Casanova or something? Man, I hate being thirteen!
Always Angry,
GG
P.S. I am thinking about running away to Mazatlan in Mexico, because I hear that you can ride horses on the beach!
October 9th
Dear Diary,
Well, today started out just like I thought it would. Everyone was whispering and pointing at me in the halls. I was mortified, but then a miracle happened. It was during first period PE. We were all dressing in the locker room, when Rebecca Stine (the coolest girl in the eighth grade) bent over to tie her shoe, and she let out the loudest, nastiest fart that I’ve ever heard. The room went silent, and then the laughter erupted!
I guess you would think that I’d have understood what Rebecca was going through, being that I was on her end of the stick on Friday, but I couldn’t help but join in with the laughter. Her fart was loud, and nobody would’ve suspected Rebecca Stine could fart! I mean she’s just too perfect. It was like the clouds had parted at that particular moment, and angels put the gas in her stomach so that people would forget about my misfortune. Okay, so maybe that’s a little farfetched, but so is Rebecca Stine farting.
By the way, Derrick walked by me at lunch today, and I think he smiled at me. I could be mistaken, though, because I was standing by the cafeteria, and today was curly fry day. Everyone adores curly fry day. So maybe he was smiling about that. All that I know is that he smiled in the direction I was standing. It might not be lip-smacking fun, but it’s a start.
Always Awesome,
GG
P.S. Do you think it’s weird to practice kissing on your hand? I heard that you need to know how to do it before it actually happens, or else you’ll bump your noses together, and this one time at school these kids actually had to go to the hospital because their noses broke! Knowing my luck these days, that would end up being me!
October 10th
Dear Diary,
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Derrick Dean asked for my phone number today! I still can’t remember if I gave him the right one. I just remember my mouth moving, and sounds coming out. I hope I wasn’t grunting like a cave man. All I need is to have sounded like, “Me GG, me have phone!”
Anyway, I remember being in the library waiting for my dad to pick me up, when I decided to check out the latest punk rock downloads on the web. Then all of a sudden, Derrick walked up and said my name. He said, “Hey, Gracie.” I turned around thinking that I was in trouble or something because usually that’s the only time someone calls me by my first name. That was when I realized that Derrick Dean, the Derrick Dean of my dreams, was actually talking to me. No, not just talking to me, he totally knew my real name! I think I mumbled something like, “Hi, ya. Hi, hee! Hee!” What a total fruit loop!
Then he started telling me about how awesome my folder was, and he asked if I really liked punk or was I just another poser? I couldn’t believe it! He was finally having an adult conversation with me! I was trying to think of something relevant to say like, “The image of punk music is stereotyped by the media as being a reflection of the misled youth and their tumbling dive into the dangerous lifestyle of drugs and addiction,” except I think I said, “Yeah, punk rocks!” What a total loser! Then he asked if I wanted to talk about it sometime, and he proceeded to ask for my number. I gave it to him, or at least I think I did, and he smiled in the most gorgeous way and walked away.
I stood there for another minute with my mouth wide open. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. While thinking of my recent good luck, my dad walked through the library door, but I didn’t hear him because I was still relishing my fabulous fortune. He took one look at me, and said, “Hey, Space Case, you want to close your mouth? You’re sucking all of the oxygen out of the room!” I didn’t even care about how humiliating that would’ve normally made me feel because today Derrick Dean asked me for my number!
Fantastically Fortunate,
GG
P.S. I think I might have to start practicing on my pillow instead of my hand, because I’m starting to get a weird red mark!
October 11th
Dear Diary,
I think that my unlucky days have finally been replaced with incredible, happy, joyous ones. Now I know why love songs are written. I fully understand every word of every love song because I feel like they’re being sung for me personally. I have so many incredible feelings going on inside of my heart right now because Derrick walked me to all of my classes, and he carried my folder for me. We actually ate lunch together in front of the entire school, and Rebecca Stine was FURIOUS! Derrick used to be her boyfriend until her not so quiet gascapade.
When I got home, he even called, and we talked for over an hour. I can’t believe it! I feel like a character in one of Mom’s 80’s movies, except I still haven’t been kissed. Maybe, just maybe, Derrick will try tomorrow. Oh man, I better start practicing! Watch out, goose down, GG’s coming to town.
Incredibly Irresistible,
GG
P.S. Dad went out again last night with the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I wonder who this home-wrecker is?!?
October 12th
Dear Diary,
I had a horrifying dream last night. I dreamt that Rebecca Stine and Derrick were back together again! In my dream, I rushed up to Derrick, and I saw them kissing! I kept saying…“Watch out! She’s going to blow!” but he just kept on kissing her. It was ghastly, and when I woke up I was sweating and screaming. Man, I’m glad it was only a dream and not reality. Oh, crud! Dad’s yelling for me to come downstairs. We have to go pick up Melanie for school, and I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, typical me.
The Constant Procrastinator,
GG
October 12th (after school)
Dear Diary,
The most hilarious thing happened at school today! I am so completely amazed by what Melanie did, because it’s so not like her. We were walking into the girl’s bathroom because I wanted to put on some mascara, blush, and strawberry flavored lip gloss (Gabby’s frantically searching her room for the missing gloss, by the way), when we started talking about the typical teenage issues: how in love she is with Bobby Bryce (Derrick’s best friend) and how cool it would be if we both got married to these guys. We were busily naming our future children when Rebecca Stine walked in.
Rebecca wasted no time making sure that I knew how much she despised me.
“Hey, loser! Who are you trying to make yourself cute for? God! It would take you centuries to be halfway decent, not to mention a hundred years before you actually grew some boobs. Derrick must really be desperate to waste his time with a girl as flat as the bathroom wall!”
Then, out of nowhere, Melanie’s voice squealed, “Well you may think he’s desperate for dating GG, but you’re the moron who doesn’t even know that a century is a hundred years! GG is cuter than you’ll ever be, and she can control her bodily functions, unlike someone we know. I hear that he left you because there isn’t enough Beano in the entire world that can stop your gas leak!”
Wow! It was downright incredible. My mouth fell open, because Melanie has never, ever stood up to anyone, and here she was standing up to the most popular girl in our school! You should’ve seen Rebecca’s face. She looked as though she had swallowed some of David Lara’s pimple pus or something. She was searching so hard for a comeback, but all she could come up with was, “Whatever, losers! Just watch your backs!”
Then while Rebecca was leaving, Melanie had another moment of verbal genius. She said, “Well, we would, but we’ll be too busy watching yours because we don’t want to die from gas poisoning!”
It was classic! I couldn’t stop laughing. My mascara started to smear, and I almost peed in my pants. Melanie is so marvelous, and she’s really adorable too. I just hope that Bobby Bryce realizes what an awesome girl she is because it would be a blast to have a double wedding.
The Lunatic Laugher,
GG
P.S. Derrick walked me to all of my classes again today, and this time we held hands. My hand still smells like the cologne that he uses. I think it’s that new stuff on TV, because it smells so good. No wonder all those girls chase after that nerdy guy in the commercial. Oh no! Maybe I should get him some different cologne.
October 13th
Dear Diary,
So it actually happened today! Derrick came to pick me up from my sixth period math class.
Oh yeah, by the way, I have the coolest math teacher. Her name is Mrs. Bronia, and she teaches Geometry. She’s cool, because she teaches us through games, art, and music. I totally understand the Pythagorean Theorem, and all the kids in the other math classes are freaking out about it. Mrs. Bronia has kind eyes, and a magnetic smile. She has long brown hair and she cut bangs into it this year, but she doesn’t like them. I think they look ultra-hip. Mrs. Bronia works with her two best friends, Ms. Smith and Ms. Peterson.
Ms. Smith is the school’s assistant principal. She’s really organized and super smart. She has like thirty college degrees on her office walls. She is ultra pretty, but she says that she doesn’t think so. She looks a lot like a famous comic book character, because she’s really sporty. She’s actually incredibly fit, and she never works out! It’s totally unfair! She’s really cool because, even though she can be tough, we know she has our backs. She’s fair and super funny, although she’s a different kind of funny. When she makes a joke, the other person thinks that she’s being serious. It’s called sarcasm.
Ms. Peterson is Mrs. Bronia’s other best friend. She is really tall, with long blondish brown hair. She is tremendously buff because she works out like every single day. She can do more push-ups than the boys’ baseball coach! She’s hilarious because she doesn’t have an inner voice (kind of like me), and she teaches Creative Writing and theater. She’s really dramatic, once again like me, and she’s going to be my second semester teacher. I still have to finish the Writing Mechanics class with Mrs. Luna before I can enroll in Creative Writing. I hate Mrs. Luna, because all she ever does is scream. We all call her Mrs. Lunatic.
Mrs. Bronia and Ms. Peterson hardly ever scream. Well, Ms. Peterson screams sometimes, but that’s because she’s almost completely deaf in both of her ears. She’s supposed to wear two behind-the-ear hearing aids, but she says that they give her a headache. We all think it’s really her way of ignoring when Mrs. Lunatic talks, or should I say screams, without seeming rude.
Mrs. Bronia, her husband, Joe, Ms. Smith, her boyfriend, Mike (who is Ms. Peterson’s cousin), and Ms. Peterson go to the movies every Friday night. Mrs. Bronia always tells us how funny it is to try to get Ms. Peterson to understand what’s going on in the movie. She says that the other people in the theatre get so frustrated with them, but either Mrs. Bronia or Ms. Smith turn around and tell them where to shove their popcorn!
Oh, my goodness! I got so caught up in telling you about the coolest teachers at our school that I totally forgot to tell you the amazing thing that happened. So, Derrick was waiting for me outside of Mrs. Bronia’s class (I was helping her change the calendar), when Ms. Peterson walked in.
She said, “Hey, chica, there’s like this thoroughly cute boy waiting for you.”
Then Mrs. Bronia said, “Well, I don’t think my husband, Joe, would approve!”
“Well, you wicked lady, what makes you think that all of the cutie booties are for you? Haven’t you seen the precious little calendar helper in front of your ego-filled eyes?” Ms. Peterson threw right back at her.
“Well, I would, except you’re blocking the view with your big old head!” They both started laughing and dancing around like salsa dancers. They are completely crazy and truly fantastic.
So I walked outside, and there was Derrick. He took my hand as we started walking to the front gate. I was telling him about the funny things that Mrs. Bronia and Ms. Peterson were saying when he stopped near the drinking fountain. I looked at him nervously because I didn’t know whether he was just thirsty, or if I had maybe said something wrong. Then he grabbed both of my hands, and it happened.
I wish I could describe how it felt, but I think I’d make it sound gross or something. All that I remember was that my heart flew into my throat and my stomach swarmed with butterflies. I had tingles in my feet, and they danced their way into every nerve in my entire body. I couldn’t remember anything that I had practiced because I was caught off guard. I don’t even remember if I closed my eyes or lifted my leg like they do in the movies. All I remember is that as soon as it ended, I was chewing a piece of cinnamon flavored gum…and I wasn’t chewing gum when I left Mrs. Bronia’s room.
I am soooooooooooooooooooo happy right now! I can’t wait to call Melanie and tell her about what happened. She’s at her cello lesson, which she hates by the way. She has to go regardless of her animosity towards the instrument because her parents feel that it will “teach her discipline.” The only “discipline” it actually teaches her is how to invent creative ways to sabotage her lessons. She’s really talented at devising schemes to solve our lives’ many dilemmas.
By the way, Bobby started walking her to her classes too. I can’t believe how all of our dreams are becoming realities. Pretty soon, we’ll be telling our daughters about how we met and fell in love with their fathers. Isn’t being thirteen grand?
Walking on Air,
GG
P.S. I saw the trashy secret date that Dad is trying to hide from us again last night—or should I say this morning? I saw Dad asleep in his room like normal, but, when I looked at the couch, and I saw blankets and a pillow. Someone, or something, must have slept on the couch. Then when I looked out the window, I saw her (or it) leaving as quickly as it could. Dad doesn’t know that I saw her. She looks a lot like Ms. Peterson, except for the fact that she’s an ugly hunchbacked ogre. I’m sorry, Ms. P, for comparing you to such a complete and wretched warthog! I know you understand, though, because your mom died when you were nine months old. I wish Dad was cool enough to date someone like you, but he’s too busy counting his baseball cards and watching NASCAR to see someone as fantastic as yourself. Nope, instead he looks for an easy way out, and I do mean easy.
October 16th
Dear Diary,
My life reeks about as terribly as my father’s work boots. Why is it that whenever I finally find the answers to all of the problems life lays in my way, I get about 35 billion more to figure out? Okay, maybe I should just explain the pain that is my life. He goes by the name of Dad! Does that sum it up?
He doesn’t get that I’m an adult, or at least closer to one then I used to be. I should be able to date, and if I intend to marry Derrick, I have to start NOW! Since Derrick is hotter than fire, a lot of girls want to be his girlfriend. And, I still don’t know if I’m his girlfriend and that scares the crud out of me!
I love him so much, and I will do ANYTHING to keep him. I’m sorry, Father Mitchell, but even breaking a commandment isn’t unthinkable. I mean if God didn’t want me to be so obsessed, then why would he create such a perfect male specimen? I just know that fate is pushing us together because why else would all of the previous events have occurred?
We are destined to have babies, and live as man and wife until death do we part. Hey, that’s not even long enough because after death I will find him and we will be reunited. And if I die first, I will haunt any hog-faced reject that tries to remarry my man! So watch out, Rebecca Stine, the Stink-butt!
Oh God! I totally forgot about DAD! He is such a mean man because he won’t let me go to the movies with Derrick. He won’t even let me go to the mall alone. He swears that I’m going to be abducted by malicious one-eyed murderers who want to suck the brains out of my head. Okay, so that may be “dramatic,” but so are Dad’s stupid childish rules. It sucks! Yes, I said ‘sucks’ again, Dad! What do you think about that, Robert Garcia? OHHHHHHHH! I just called you by your name, too! HEE! HEE! What a terrible daughter I am.
I
hate that he gets to go on trashy secret dates, and they’re only a
secret because the humpback whale that he’s dating is so
wretched-looking that if you stare directly at her, you will go blind
(kind of like an eclipse). I bet that her butt jiggles when she
walks, and it smells like rotten toe cheese. I just know that her
breath is so nasty that she could kill a swarm of vampires when she
yawns. Dad just doesn’t realize that the only other woman that I
will ever let him think about loving is beyond his reach. Ms.
Peterson is way too cool for Dad!
I HATE
THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BEYOND INFURIATED,
GG
October 19th
Dear Diary,
I hate Rebecca Stine! SHE MUST BE STOPPED! At lunch today, she was discovered by a reliable source (who will not be named, due to her current placement within the witness protection program) freakishly flirting with my Derrick! She was overheard saying that she “would totally love to go to the movies this weekend!” What a complete jerk face! She is even nastier than the swamp squid that Dad’s secretly dating.
Rebecca is so stinky, even a blind, deaf, mute, one-legged dog wouldn’t accept food from her grubby fat hand. I’m sorry if I’ve offended any blind, deaf, mute, one-legged dogs because I associated them with such a toxic waste dump! She should literally only be companions with the turd worms that feast off of the sewage infested pipes of port-a-potties!
I truly hope that my strategy to speed up my love life works quickly, or else Derrick may be doomed to fall for Rebecca’s smelly, fart-infested embrace. I hope that Dad will fall for the “roller-skating” plan that Melanie and I are hatching. We feel that exercise is such a lacking part of our school’s regime (even though we have gym daily for an hour) because the teachers are not expanding our horizons to the multiple genres of cardiovascular activities.
We plan to inform our parental units (in my case, unit) that there is a club at our school that specializes in solving the crisis of the lacking physical education alternatives our school offers. This class extends beyond dodge ball into an artistic interpretation of roller skating choreography. So, if Dad buys this load of bologna, then I will be saved.
“Why?” do you ask? Well, it’s obviously because that’s when Derrick and his associates hang out at the rink. Every Friday night they play roller hockey from 6-7 pm. This, coincidently, is the exact time of the roller disco class Melanie and I plan to take.
We are pre-teen geniuses. We seriously should have our IQs tested, because I think we need to skip junior high and high school all together. We should immediately enroll into college, and help all of the other blundering idiots fool their babbling baboon parents. Rebecca Stine, watch out for my clever fist to pound upon your deformed donkey head!
Totally Talented,
GG
October 20th
Dear Diary,
Melanie is brilliant! Well, normally if I desire to do anything (and I do mean anything) on a weekend, Dad totally flips out. He starts asking a hundred billion questions about anything and everything that he can possibly think of. I know he does this because he’s a deputy sheriff and he’s only thinking about my safety, but it’s really annoying.
He asks all these detective questions. Sometimes I feel like I’m in one of those movies where the detective has the bright light on the suspect, and he’s interrogating the victim for hours until the shady character finally cracks and spills his guts. Because, that’s exactly what Dad does to me when I want to socialize with my girlfriends.
For example, this one time Melanie and I wanted to go to the mall by ourselves. It was last May, and we wanted to go check out the local cuties and buy swimsuits for the summer. Well, Dad totally laid into me, asking, “Who’s going? Is there a responsible parent supervising you at all times? Are you going to meet up with any dirt bags? What are you shopping for? Well, you better believe that you’re not getting a bikini that shows everything! In fact, I’m calling Grandma, and she’ll take you girls to the mall.”
He said this in one breath, and I didn’t even get to answer a single one of his questions, except for the one about what I was shopping for. I knew we were toast because the only thing that repels guys more than your father is one of your grandparents calling you by your childhood nickname (in my case, Froggy) and playing the “remember when” game. You know what game I’m talking about—the game where they remember all of the most embarrassing moments of your childhood, and they keep talking about them because they were just “so cute!” Like the time you accidentally peed your pants because Grandpa wouldn’t stop tickling you. Or the time that you threw up and it came out of your nose.
At the mall, Grandma had one of her “special moments.” She said in her most sweet and innocent way, “Remember when you were six years old, and you locked yourself in the airplane’s bathroom, and you were crying because you were afraid of being sucked out of the airplane’s toilet? Then the flight attendants had to unscrew the door to the bathroom in order to get you out, and you were never able to fly on that airline again!”
Usually grandparents play this game in front of the hottest guy in the world. In this case, it was an entire group of ultra-hot muchachos that were literally looking at Melanie and me with their snazziest “Hey, baby!” looks, until Grandma started her stroll down memory lane. Then the guys’ faces contorted into their “We’d rather cuddle a chimpanzee” looks. Melanie and I were utterly mortified.
We turned bright red and ducked into the nearest dressing room that we saw. Unfortunately, we didn’t see the huge sign written in capital block letters that said “MEN’S FITTING ROOM.” The dressing room was not like any other that we’d ever been in because it didn’t have any doors. It looked exactly like a horse’s stall, and when we finally realized where we were, it was too late.
We had walked in on an elderly man. Clearly he was ancient, and suffering from a bad case of silent-but-deadly farts. He looked at us in shock as he clumsily tried to pull on his hideous brown and orange checkered golf pants. All that he was currently wearing was a white undershirt that was tucked into the most hideous, baggy, red and white striped boxer shorts that I’ve ever seen. Not to mention the fact that he was wearing black sock supporters and the ugliest yellow and green argyle socks in the world.
It was by far one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, and I’m sure that Grandma’s going to get a kick out of retelling the whole wretched story to my future husband. She’ll probably say it at our wedding. She’ll begin it like any other ridiculous grandparent anecdote by stating the infamous line, “Remember when we were shopping, and your best friend and you walked in on that poor elderly man while he was dressing? It was so cute because…” Good God, is my family one can short of a six pack or what?
Today, Dad wasn’t investigating like he normally does. No, today Dad did a complete 180 degree turn about because when I asked him about the roller disco classes he only asked one question, “Isn’t Ms. Peterson teaching that?”
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Well…um… doesn’t she usually supervise all the school’s dances?” Dad continued to quiz me.
“Yeah, normally she does, except for the last dance. But this is a P.E. class and she’s a writing teacher. The only reason she’s teaching it is because Ms. Karma, the girls’ P.E. teacher, had a mental meltdown.”
“What does she know about mental meltdowns? I mean how hard is it to teach a bunch of seventh and eighth grade girls how to hula hoop? What, did she cut her cuticle while she was teaching you girls to hopscotch or something?” Dad snorted.
WHAT IN THE WORLD? Dad actually told a joke. Granted it was a dim-witted, dumb, male-chauvinistic one, but it was a joke just the same. Man, he was acting strange. What? Is he taking some new weird vitamin that makes him have a sense of humor? This was so unlike him. Normally he’d launch into one of his lectures about responsibility.
“Well, I think it had to do with the fact that some of the girls, not me of course, put shaving cream all over her office while she was putting all of the basketballs away. She started freaking out and chanting, ‘Why didn’t I just become a ballerina? I should have become a ballerina!’ She started rocking back and forth, repeating, ‘I want to be a dancer! I want to be a dancer,’ over and over again! After that, the campus cop took her up to the office where she was taken away in an ambulance never to be seen again,” I replied.
Dad started laughing like a hyena after I finished telling my story. Can you say, “Totally bizarre?” Laughing at my jokes is a once-in-a-blue moon occurrence, but laughing about something like this is really unlike Dad! Normally he’d have asked for all of the girls’ names that were responsible for breaking her innocent spirit. Usually he would have started shouting about the numerous violations that he would hold the “criminals” accountable for. He’d have said something like, “Well, I should put out an APB, and take them into custody for assault and vandalism.” Okay, it actually would’ve sounded like this…“Well, I’ll put out an APB; receive their 10-20, and 10-15 ‘em!”
Cop talk is so strange. What’s even weirder is that I know every code number and its violation by heart. When I was in kindergarten, anytime the teacher said a number, I would shout out the crime that went with it. Like, if she’d say that we were going to count to four, I’d think she was talking about code four (which means no further assistance). I’d start crying and screaming, “But I need further assistance, ‘cause I don’t know how to do that yet!”
Okay, so back to the present time. So, Dad finally responded, “Okay you can join the class, but I’m dropping you off and picking you up myself.”
SCORE! I still can’t believe it. I mean usually Dad’s all crazy, like how he was about the mall, but today he’s all trusting and what not. I don’t know what vitamin he’s taking, but I’m going to find out and buy a lifetime supply of it off of eBay.
Shocked Yet Splendidly Surprised,
GG
P.S. Derrick was acting really distant today, and he hasn’t responded to the instant message that I wrote him twenty-minutes ago. My computer says that he’s online, but when I try to message him, he doesn’t respond. This is really odd, because I totally thought he’d be happy to hear that I was going to the Roller Disco class. I wonder if I did something wrong? Maybe I kissed him wrong? Man, what if I totally stink at kissing? Great! Now he’s going to tell everyone, and I’m going to end up having “special outings” with Grandma again because no one else will want to take me out. Now I don’t feel so splendid anymore.
October 22nd
Dear Diary,
I DETEST DERRICK DEAN!!!!!!! He is the biggest loser in the history of losers. He was such a fatal mistake. I can’t believe I EVER liked him. I’m so lucky that he’s out of my life. Yep, free and ready to fly into the arms of my real soul-mate. That’s for sure. Man, I’m so glad that I found out what a total freak Derrick is before it was too late.
Oh, who am I kidding? I love that slime ball. How could he do this to me? I mean everyone was there, and—oh crud, here come the water works again. I better come back in a few, or else you’ll be so drenched that you’ll look like one of those inkblot tests.
Okay, it’s been about an hour. I took a shower, listened to ultra depressing music, and cried my eyes out. Then I had to rehydrate my body because I had used up all of my bodily fluids crying, and so I drank like a liter of soda. Anyway, back to Derrick (the dumbest dork-faced goat’s butt in the world). So, Melanie and I got ready for Roller Disco skate class, and I must say we looked really adorable. We put our hair in side ponytails, and we wore orange and yellow striped tank tops. We looked really retro. Well, we got to the skating rink, and Ms. P came out to meet us, which was kind of weird because she didn’t walk up to any of the other parents’ cars. She said, “Hey, cutie booties! Wow! Love the hair!”
Then Dad quickly added, “Yeah, girls, you look really cute.”
“Dad, do you care if we go inside? It’s really cold out here,” I shivered.
“Yeah, go in, sweetie!”
“Sweetie? Who are you trying to impress?” I quipped back at my dad.
“Just go inside, Gracie!” He said firmly.
“Man, you had to go and call me by the first name!”
“Gracie Felis Garcia!” He said raising his voice.
“Sheesh, Dad, I was just kidding, but honestly, could you try harder to embarrass me? Why don’t ya’ take out the naked baby pictures while you’re on a roll?” I joked.
Then Dad gave me the look, and I quickly shut up. As Melanie and I sprinted toward the door, I called back to him, “Bye.” I wanted to make sure that Dad was leaving, and so I turned back around--but something strange was happening. Ms. P and Dad were STILL talking, and even weirder, Ms. P started laughing and Dad rubbed her arm! It was so bizarre! It could have been nothing, but I swear to Buddha that Dad’s eyes were dancing around with a look that he had when he and Mom would joke around. I’m so excited because if Dad and Ms. P hit it off, he’ll stop dating the Mysterious butt-muncher.
So, the night was starting off perfectly, and it could only get better, right? WRONG! As I walked into the skating rink, I noticed Derrick and Bobby hanging out by the snack bar. Then I did something completely against Melanie and my plan. I waved at him like a total idiot. I could have sworn that he’d seen me come in, but when I waved he didn’t wave back. I decided that maybe he didn’t see me after all. I really wanted to find out what was bothering him, and I wanted to know why he wasn’t returning my messages, but this wasn’t a part of Melanie’s foolproof plan.
We walked in their direction, acting like we were going to get our rental skates. The idea was for them to notice us and for us to play coy and hard to get. We had read one of my sister’s teenage girlie magazines, which by the way would totally get me grounded because my dad hates teenage magazines. He doesn’t even know Gabby has a secret stash hidden under our “lady products” in the bathroom. Dad never looks there because even thinking about a girl’s time of the month makes him break out into neck hives.
Well, the magazine stated that, “If you want a man to love you for life, you have to keep him guessing. You have to act like you are out of reach, but not unattainable.” I think that means to stand far away, but not so far away that you look like a loser. Anyway, Melanie and I started walking by, pretending not to notice the guys and waiting desperately for them to call us over. Well, we just kept walking, and walking, and walking, but no one called our names. It was really foolish! We decided to get our skates since it would look really lame for us to walk away empty-handed.
When we got to the rental booth, we saw Melanie’s older brother, Mitch, working. He’s fifteen years old and has a work permit from school. His parents want him to learn responsibility, too. He had to either get a job or continue playing the violin. He wanted the coolest job that he could get, and since NASCAR wasn’t hiring any fifteen-year-old pit crew members, he had to settle for working at the rink.
He’s really cute and super tall. He has the greatest hair with the most delicious blondish brown spikes. He has this scrumptious little side smile, and the clearest green eyes that I’ve ever seen. Okay, so I have a bit of a crush, but who wouldn’t? Anyway, Mitch is way out of my league for two excellent reasons. First, because he’s a freshman in high school, and, second, because he’s Melanie’s older brother. There’s a rule about dating your best friend’s brother. It’s entirely forbidden because it breaks the Best Friend Commandment: “Thou shall not date thy best friend’s brother.”
Mitch is probably the only guy that Dad would let me talk to. Dad totally loves Mitch, because Mitch plays baseball and likes the same football teams and NASCAR driver. Dad loves the Chargers and USC, and coincidently, so does Mitch. Dad loves Dale Earnhardt, Jr., and Mitch thinks Dale Jr. is an absolute God. Just as I was losing myself to the wonders of Mitch, the stud muffin actually looked our way with his incredible sparkling eyes and said to Melanie, “Hey, road kill!”
“Hey, Neanderthal!” Melanie replied.
He turned to me, peering at me we with those perfect eyes and said, “Hi, Geej! So what’s up in Garciaville?” He is really hypnotic!
“Not much to report. Just the same old, same old.” Why do I always sound like a complete dimwit when Mitch talks to me?
“How’s your dad doing? I’m going to go to NASCAR next weekend. Is he going, too?”
“Of course he is! He never misses NASCAR.”
“Are you going to go, too?” It sounded as if he wanted me to go with my dad, except there is no way he could ever be interested in a kid like me. He probably just wants me to go so that I can get them food whenever they need it so they don’t have to miss the race.
“I think…,” but I couldn’t finish my answer.
I heard Derrick call out, “Hey, GG, what’s up?”
“Oh, hey, Derrick! Where’ve you been hiding out?” I actually made it sound like I hadn’t noticed he was there. I guess I can be pretty good at this hard to get stuff after all.
Yeah, right, so much for the hard-to-get technique. I was totally slobbering like some huge dopey dog. I mean, all that I was missing was a puddle of drool. Just as I had begun to recuperate from my mental diarrhea, I spotted my nemesis (which means enemy) by the front door. Rebecca looked like the cover girl on one of Gabby’s magazines, and I wasn’t the only person to notice. I utterly loathe her!
“Um… I got to go catch up with…the guys. Talk to you later,” Derrick stuttered quickly as his eyes followed Rebecca’s exit from the building. Then just like that, he walked, more like darted off, in the direction that Rebecca had gone.
“So, Geej, you were saying…are you going or not?” Mitch continued, clearly annoyed by Derrick’s interruption.
“Man, Mel, what’s going on?” I replied oblivious to Mitch’s interest in my weekend plans.
“I don’t know, GG, but you need to find out soon. I mean, you don’t need to waste your time on a guy that doesn’t know what he wants,” Melanie answered in concern.
“Yeah, Geej, you don’t want a guy like him!” Mitch chimed in.
“What do you mean? Don’t you think I’m good enough?” I said having trouble fighting back tears.
“What err...? Um... I...,” was all that he was able to spit out of his mouth. What was with tonight? I mean, everyone’s stuttering and tripping over their words!
“Oh, forget it, Mitch! I know you only see me as some dumb kid anyway!” I retorted dramatically.
Melanie and I turned around forgetting to actually get our skates, and we left Mitch standing there entirely shocked by our sudden departure. I needed some air, and I needed it quick. I told Melanie that I wanted to go out front, and headed out the door with Melanie close behind. When we stepped outside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. My biggest nightmare was quickly become my current reality!
There was my Derrick and that repulsive Rebecca Stine kissing like their mouths had been sewn together. I let out a loud gasp. Their lip lock was interrupted by my anguished groans, and they turned around. Rebecca had the wickedest smile on her wretched boar-hound face. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, but the worst part was yet to come. Finally, I found my voice and said, “What’s going on, Derrick?”
“GG! What are you doing outside?” Derrick asked in shock.
“Well, I’d ask you the same question, but it’s pretty obvious what you’re doing!” My voice rose louder than I had intended it to, and our drama quickly drew a crowd. It was at that moment that I knew things were going to get nasty, but I couldn’t stop my anger from rising.
“Why do you care what my boyfriend does?” Rebecca snorted.
“Your boyfriend!” I screamed.
“Yeah, you lame loser! My boyfriend! What, are you stupid or something?”
That’s when Melanie snapped, “You’re the blundering idiot who doesn’t have enough of a vocabulary to come up with an original burn!”
“Oh, shut up, you loser!” squealed Rebecca, furiously.
“Oh, my God, you’re so quick! What a creative comeback. Man, that hurts,” Melanie said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.
“Derrick, why is she saying that you’re her boyfriend?” I stammered stupidly.
“GG, let’s just talk about this later,” Derrick pleaded as he looked around at the circle that had formed around our soap opera style drama.
“No, Derrick I want to know now!” I yelped.
“Just tell her already, Derrick!” Rebecca seemed to radiate an almost murderous heat behind her sinister sneer.
“Shut up, you hog-faced hussy!” I screeched. Everyone in the crowd started laughing and egging us on by making pig sounds.
“Derrick, tell her now, or I will! Tell her about the bet!” Rebecca grinned viciously.
“Bet? What is she talking about, Derrick?” I asked, in confusion.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Rebecca’s smile radiated an evil that would have made any serial killer envious. She was enjoying my pain more than a five year old enjoys a day at Disneyland.
“Derrick bet all of the guys that he could get the ugliest girls at school to fall in love with him, and apparently he won!” Rebecca bellowed triumphantly. Everyone in the crowd stared at me, waiting for my retaliation. My agony had become their entertainment.
“WHAT!!!!!!!!” Melanie roared. “You’re such a wretched wench! You’re a delusional, brainless bimbo who can’t tell the difference between her noxious butt and toxic gas because they both have the potential to kill innocent bystanders! And another thing…,” She tried to finish her statement, but she was interrupted by a voice that boomed louder than a bass drum. The crowd grew silent at this thunderous outburst.
“Oh, shut up, you stupid idiots! I made a bet, and I won. I don’t know how else to make you get it, GG! I’m not, and never will be with you! Now get out of here, before I tell everyone how awful it was to kiss you!” Derrick’s voice cut through me like a knife. I could feel my heart shattering inside of my chest. Now I know what everyone means by a heartbreaker.
The crowd stood dazed for a few moments and then their piercing stare turned upon my shattered face. They had got what they came for. I stood by crushed and tortured while everyone starting laughing and pointing. It was horrible. Rebecca held Derrick’s hand victoriously as the hot tears poured from my miserable eyes. Just when I thought that I was going to pounce upon Rebecca and rip her limb from limb, I saw Ms. P looking curiously from the skating rink entrance. She seemed to be evaluating the captivated onlookers and sizing up the mob.
Ms. P walked toward the crowd briskly obviously in alarm that something wasn’t right. She started breaking up the gathering and sending everyone back into the skating rink. She was so calm during the chaos that surrounded me. She was my beacon of light in this sinister storm.
“What’s going on here?” she said in a hushed tone as the bystanders filled into the building. “GG, are you okay?” She whispered in my ear. When I didn’t respond her voice rose a bit, “Somebody better start explaining fast!”
“Nothing’s going on, Ms. P,” Rebecca said in a devious voice.
“Oh, who do you think you’re fooling, girl? I can read people like you from two miles away! You prey on anyone that threatens you, and GG seriously does that. She’s beautiful, classy, and doesn’t need to rely on popularity to get a boy’s attention. She illuminates a room with her smile and personality, and you can’t stand to be outshined! By the way, I’m Ms. Peterson to you because only honest kids with self-respect have earned the right to call me Ms. P! Now, get out of here before I have you suspended quicker than you can say loser. Come on, GG, I’m taking take you home.”
“But…don’t you have to teach the class?” I asked sheepishly.
“I’ll call Ms. Smith to cover for me. Don’t worry I won’t get into any trouble.” She turned to Melanie, “Melanie, can you call your parents to take you home?”
“Sure thing, Ms. P!”
After that, Ms. P hooked her elbow into mine, and whisked me away from the Rebecca’s sinister stare. In the safety of Ms. P’s car, I began to sob uncontrollably. I couldn’t help it. I wanted my mom so badly because she’d have known what to do, and I couldn’t face another night away from her.
“You want your mom, right?” Ms. P startled me with her psychic abilities. “I know how you feel. The first guy that I ever kissed said some terrible things, too. I was mortified because he lied, and the worst part was that a lot of people believed his dim-witted dribble.”
“What did you do?” I asked between sobs.
“I cried. I cried so hard that my eyes were swollen for three days. Then I yelled at my mom’s photo.” Ms. P’s voice began to tremble. “I was so angry at her for leaving me alone to deal with such a terrible tragedy on my own, but one day I realized that it wasn’t her fault.”
“How’d you do that?”
“Well, it took me so many years to begin to forgive her.” Her voice hesitated, “Then I finally realized there wasn’t anything to forgive her for. It’s not like she wanted to die and leave me all alone. Her body just couldn’t keep going, and so God gave her the ability to help me in the best possible way.”
“What’s better than being there to help?” I asked skeptically.
“Being inside of your heart, inside of your head, and being able to hold you when you dream. Your mom didn’t leave you, GG. She’s always with you. She’s with you in a way that she never could have been with you if she were alive today. She’s in the air you breathe, she’s in the laugh that you belt out without care, and she’s even in the tears you’re shedding right now. She holds you when you cry, and you don’t feel it because she’s holding you so close.”
“How’d you stop the pain and anger?”
“It doesn’t stop, honey, but one day, instead of pain and anger you’ll feel happiness when you think of her. You’ll remember the beauty in her smile, and you’ll truly know her love.”
Ms. P stopped the car, and held me while I cried, but now I wasn’t crying for some stupid guy, I was crying for a deeper loss. It was a loss that only Ms. P could truly identify with.
Sad but Strong,