Diary One: Dawn, Sunny, Maggie, Amalia, and Ducky

by Ann M. Martin

  But now I have a new problem. My Christmas list. My belated procrastinator’s Christmas list that I shouldn’t even be thinking about anymore.

  Over dinner, as I listen carefully to the conversation, I pick up what people want to receive. Which is helpful in some ways, but not in others.

  Okay, here’s the whole thing, with my changes added (including people who weren’t at dinner):

  Revised Christmas Shopping List Saint Isabel (who I overhear telling Big Tooth Lover Boy she’ll “die” if anyone gives her another sweater) — Return sweater. Buy earrings. Or maybe a bag of coal.

  Cece — Hair stuff.

  Marina — Science fiction book, not related to Star Wars or Star Trek. (Does that leave anything?)

  Maggie — Oh, just something that the daughter of Hayden Blume the gazillionaire movie producer might not have. Like maybe her own private village.

  Dawn and Sunny — ????? Gift friends or nongift friends?

  James — ????? Boyfriend gift (cologne)? Or friend friend gift (new shades)?

  To be decided by tomorrow!

  Mon 12/22

  study hall

  ¡ SURPRISE!

  Hey, Nbook. Bet you didn’t expect to see me here.

  Thank Sunny.

  She says she writes in her journal during her study hall. Everyone thinks she’s really working.

  I say, great idea.

  Besides, today is the Useless School Day of the Year. Vacation starts tomorrow, so we have to be in school for one day this week. Of course, practically no one is here, and I don’t blame them. Vacation should have started on Friday!

  Boy, do I need to vent.

  It’s three days before Christmas, and I am like a flea on a sweaty dog. I can’t stop jumping.

  Remember my plans? All changed.

  This morning, I’m at my locker, and I’m thinking: cologne. For James’s gift, I mean. Mainly because the stuff he wears is so awful. So what if he thinks we’re boyfriend — girlfriend? I’ll deal with it.

  Besides, we probably are. I look for him every day before and after school. And I always feel so good when we’re together in the hallways. James has really changed my life. Before I met him, I felt so small. Moving into a new city and school was hard enough. But did I know that the Vista eighth-graders would be going to the high school building this year? No. All of a sudden, I’m not only a new student but also in the youngest class. Then I meet James, and all of a sudden upper-graders are talking to me.

  He’s cute. He’s talented. His guitar playing is amazing. Besides, would I be managing the rock group of a guy who was not a boyfriend? I think not. Would I hold hands with a friend friend? Would I have kissed him 2 times? (Maybe 3.)

  So I’m kind of in a trance at my locker, thinking about all this and deciding James must be a boyfriend.

  Then he walks up to me.

  Does he say “Hi” or “Good morning” or even “Merry Christmas”?

  No. The first words out of his mouth are “Vanish rehearsal. Tomorrow.”

  “Excuse me?” I say.

  He repeats himself, slowly, as if I had a brain transfer with a toad this morning.

  Here’s the problem, Nbook. When something like this happens, my mind goes all weird on me. The words flood into my head right away. I know just what to say. I know I should tell him it’s crazy to have a rehearsal three days before Christmas and I have a thousand presents to buy including his and I cannot make it, no way no how, proceed without me.

  But something happens to the words on the way from my brain to my mouth. They fall apart. They trip over each other. I start to speak and I sound like a total idiot.

  “I don’t know…” I say.

  “We need you to listen to the instrumentals,” James barges on. “Maggie can’t be there to sing.”

  Of course not, I want to say. She’s shopping like any other normal person.

  How that transformed into “Okay, I guess,” I will never know.

  But it did.

  And I am stuck.

  Tues 12/23

  4:30

  Nbook old buddy,

  I am sitting in the backseat of Simon’s car. He and Saint Isabel are giggling away in the front.

  We are all going shopping, then Simon is going to drive me to rehearsal.

  I have decided he is a nice guy. I shouldn’t call him Big Tooth Lover Boy. Saint Isabel, however, is still in the doghouse.

  And, you, Nbook, are helping me make her very paranoid.

  Sometimes I am such a bad sister.

  12/23

  bedtime

  I must be crazy.

  I must be totally out of my mind.

  I race through the Vista Hills Mall at warp speed. I look at every science fiction book ever written, smell every men’s cologne ever made, nearly die standing in long lines, then make Simon drive me to the Vanish rehearsal. I arrive about ten minutes late, which usually counts as early to these guys, and — surprise surprise — they’ve already started playing.

  Justin Randall is sitting there, so I sit next to him. I say a few words to him, like, “I can’t believe there’s another fool here 2 days before Christmas.”

  He laughs, we chat a little while. The music sounds pretty good, and I’m feeling exhausted but great because I’ve almost finished my shopping.

  I smile at James, but he’s deep into his guitar.

  When the group breaks, I walk up to James. He’s still deep into something, I can’t tell what, because he’s not looking at me.

  “Sounds great,” I say.

  He gives kind of a half grunt, half laugh. “You heard it?”

  I figure he didn’t see me come in. “I was right here.”

  “I know. But you looked like you had something else on your mind.”

  What is he talking about? I’m saying to myself. I must have seemed totally out of it.

  I mutter something like, “Well, it’s kind of a busy time.”

  And then I see James glaring at Justin.

  Blink! goes the light in my head.

  I realize what’s going on. He thinks I’m flirting with Justin Randall!

  Please. Like I’m really interested in stealing the guy that Maggie is interested in, right in front of the whole group, in her absence. Like I’m hopelessly boy-crazed and can’t help myself.

  I can’t even convince myself to be interested in James!

  Anyway, the idea is so ridiculous, I start to laugh.

  Big mistake. If looks were knives, I’d be dead. “What’s so funny?” James asks.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “You think this is a joke?”

  “No!”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  I control myself. I try to explain. I try to tell him the concept of me liking Justin is silly, but it comes out all wrong. It sounds like I’m telling him he’s silly. He just gets madder and madder.

  Finally he stomps away.

  I’m standing there, suddenly alone and totally embarrassed. Everyone else is trying to pretend that they haven’t heard every single word.

  And I’m thinking, I broke my back today for this?

  Tomorrow I am taking back that cologne. Christmas Eve or no Christmas Eve.

  Wed 12/24

  I changed my mind, Nbook. Again.

  I know, you think I’m stupid. But I can explain.

  It starts this morning, just after breakfast.

  Marina calls me. The first thing she says is, “My brother can be a real jerk.” She says she’s yelled at James for embarrassing me. She told him he should call me. Basically, she’s apologizing for him.

  I’m still mad at him, but I tell Marina my mind is open.

  I know Simon and Isabel are going last-minute shopping. I decide that if James calls before they leave, I won’t return the cologne.

  But he doesn’t call.

  Soon Simon and Isabel are leaving. I have the cologne in my hand, gift-wrapped and ready for return, and I ask if I can go along. Isab
el asks why.

  I try to explain. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but nothing I’m saying is making much sense. Isabel keeps asking questions, and finally she gets me to pour out everything I’m feeling about James.

  “Sounds like a misunderstanding,” Simon says. “Why don’t you call him?”

  “He should call me!” I reply.

  Isabel nods. She says James was wrong to fly off the handle.

  I admit that some of it is my fault. That I wasn’t really making myself clear to him. That maybe I made things worse by saying the wrong things.

  Isabel thinks about this for a minute. Then she asks if I like James.

  “Yes. I mean no,” I reply. “I mean, as a friend, at least. Maybe more. I’m not sure. I like his sister. And I like being with him a lot. Sometimes. Maybe I should give him something that’s less…romantic or personal or whatever.” (Speak much, Vargas?)

  Simon smiles. “Cologne is safe,” he says. “Isabel bought me cologne when we were just friends.”

  “Yeah, and look at you now!” I answer back.

  Simon and Isabel grin at each other. Isabel rests her head on his shoulder.

  “It wasn’t the gift of cologne that did it,” Simon says. “I didn’t really like the smell anyway.”

  Isabel acts all shocked and they get into a make-believe fight that ends in a laugh and a kiss.

  Another public kissyface scene between the Saint and the Teeth.

  Only this time, Nbook, I don’t feel like puking.

  Instead I’m looking at them and thinking: This is a relationship.

  And I’m wondering if James and I will ever be that way. I mean, it must be nice to care about somebody so much, and to know he feels that way about you too.

  A question occurs to me, so I blurt out: “Did you guys fight a lot when you first met?”

  Simon grimaced. “All the time, until she got used to me.”

  I think about this. Then I decide to stick with the cologne.

  But now Simon and Isabel are both insisting I come shopping with them anyway. Just to cheer me up.

  I agree, and off we go.

  Well, the mall is a madhouse, of course. A kid almost knocks me over on the escalator. I stand in humongous lines again and buy some cool CDs. (I’ll give them to Dawn and Sunny if they buy me presents. If they don’t, the CDs are mine.)

  We spend way too much time in there, and I am in a foul mood on the way home.

  “Hey, where’s your Christmas spirit?” Simon asks.

  “Stuck somewhere between electronics and ladies’ lingerie,” I snap.

  Then, completely out of nowhere, Isabel asks me the strangest question. Do I want to go with her to the women’s shelter?

  I tell her she may be dumb enough to work on Christmas Eve, but why should I tag along? Only I say it in much nicer words.

  Isabel gives Simon a look, then smiles at me. “You said you wanted to experience Christmas spirit.”

  Nice try, but no go. Simon drops me off at home, I put on some Christmas CDs, and Mami puts me to work.

  Around dinnertime I take a break and call James. (Yes, Nbook. The silence was killing me.)

  He apologizes for blowing up at me. He tells me he understands what happened now; he “had it out” with Justin.

  (Nbook, have you ever noticed that girls “talk it out” but boys “have it out”? What does this mean?)

  Anyway, I invite him to come over tomorrow. He says he and Marina are going to their grandparents’, but they’ll be back at night. Which is fine, because my relatives will be gone by then.

  He sounds excited.

  I wonder what he’s giving me for Christmas.

  I know, Nbook, I know. I mustn’t be greedy.

  Well, the house looks beautiful. The food is arranged in the fridge, so we can put it all together tomorrow.

  And I am going to bed.

  Good night.

  Ho ho ho.

  Thursday December 25

  ¡ FELIZ NAVIDAD!

  I love my new dress from Mami and Papi.

  I love my CDs from Isabel.

  I love my savings bond from Tio Luis the Banker.

  And I had so much fun with my cousins! Why can’t they all live closer? (I know why. Because WE moved!)

  I would like to say gracias, gracias to everyone for all the gifts of the day, which are too numerous to mention. But you know who you are.

  I am in hiding up here in my room because my stomach is so bloated from eating and laughing and talking nonstop that I am in mortal danger of making embarrassing noises in public.

  You don’t mind, do you, Nbook?

  AMALIA’S CHRISTMAS

  Maggie came over this afternoon. Mami kept offering her food, but she wouldn’t eat one thing. I don’t know how she does it.

  Maybe I should ask her to give me lessons.

  Or maybe not. I loved every morsel. And Maggie could stand to put on a few pounds, in my opinion, anyway.

  So, while I am digesting, I will listen to music and tell you all about today.

  At 5:57 A.M. Isabel and I run downstairs. (Actually we were both up at 5:30, but we restrained ourselves.) Mami and Papi drag themselves out of bed, complaining but smiling. We turn on the radio and every station is playing Christmas music.

  Then, after we finish opening presents, Papi starts making his patented huevos rancheros, and Isabel runs upstairs to get dressed. She says she is going to the shelter.

  “On Christmas?” I blurt out.

  “Yup. Want to come?”

  Crazy. Right, Nbook?

  Now, here’s the weird thing. I don’t know what it is — maybe the carols on the radio, maybe the presents, maybe the smell of breakfast and the feeling of being together and happy at our first Palo City Christmas — but I call out, “Okay!” Just like that.

  I actually want, in my heart, to be with my sister.

  Big Tooth Lover Boy shows up and gives Isabel a necklace. Then — I cannot believe my eyes — he gives presents to Mami and Papi. I mean, really. This is like something from an old movie.

  Papi asks if Simon is trying to hint at something, which embarrasses Simon and Isabel and they both laugh too hard. Then Mami winks at me and says, “Good thing you’re going along, Amalia. You’ll make sure they behave.”

  Now I’m embarrassed too. As Simon, Isabel, and I leave, our faces look like red peppers.

  Anyway, I guess I’m expecting this women’s shelter to look like a church or a school with a lawn or something. But it is nothing like that. Simon drives clear across Palo City to a funky area I’ve never been to.

  Isabel tells me the shelter is called GAEA. “Gaea” is the name in Greek mythology for the goddess of the earth.

  I ask Isabel if Mami and Papi know she works in a neighborhood like this.

  She shakes her head and says, “It’s really nice inside.”

  Which is true. The lobby looks like this big, comfortable living room. I see a Christmas tree, a menorah, a Kwanzaa kinara, and a creche.

  Right away I understand why some of the presents are wrapped in baby paper. All over the place I see

  Oops. Gotta go. The doorbell rang. Must be James.

  12/25

  later

  Yup. James.

  He is all sweetness.

  I give him the cologne.

  He gives me a present too. I rip it open right there.

  It’s an ankle bracelet. With my name and his. Linked together.

  Whoa.

  Fri 12/26

  I will not stress.

  I will enjoy my presents. I will go with my family to visit Abuela Aurora at the nursing home near San Clemente.

  I will not think about James.

  I will not think about what his present means.

  I will not wear it either, until I know where we stand.

  Period.

  Sat 12/27

  Nbook, please. You must remind me when I leave off in the middle of a story. I can’t remember every
thing by myself.

  I know, I know. I told you I hate writing.

  But we’re amigas now. In a big way. I can tell you stuff and I don’t get all tongue-tied.

  Finger-tied.

  Whatever.

  Okay, where were we? Flashback to Christmas Day. GAEA. Big Tooth Lover Boy drops off me and Isabel. We’re lugging bags of presents into the building, and all of a sudden little kids are running around me like I’m Santa Claus.

  Their parents are in the lobby, which spills into a corridor that branches off in either direction. They are chatting away, smiling at the kids or scolding them. The kids try to be polite, but it’s hard.

  It feels like a big PTA event. Except for one thing. None of the parents are dads. Not one. They’re all mothers. Latina, white, African-American, Indian, Asian. A world festival.

  Even Santa Claus is a woman. She’s performing magic tricks in a corner.

  Many of the moms are thanking Isabel for coming. They’re introducing themselves to me and shaking my hand. But I’m so busy with the presents and the kids that none of their names stick in my head.

  And all the while I’m realizing I have never really talked to Isabel about this place. “Women’s shelter” — what does that mean anyway? Homeless women?

  Some of these women look pretty well off. Beautiful clothes, done-up hair, and nice nails. What are they doing here?

  As I’m trying to put the presents under the tree, I hear someone talking to Isabel. “Two of our child-care people aren’t coming today,” she says. “Would you mind helping with the little ones?”

  I hear Isabel answer, “But Ms. Hardwick wanted me to help with the food and punch.”

  Well, the kids are so cute, and I’m tickling one of them who has a laugh like Porky Pig, and I’m having the best time…

  It happens again, Nbook. I speak right up without even thinking. “I will!”

  Of course, right away I’m saying to myself, It’s Christmas Day, and you’re going to baby-sit for 30 screaming kids you’ve never met before?