by Carol Weston
“I do,” I said and pointed out that WOW is a perfect palindrome too.
Pip shrugged and picked up the novel she was reading and said, “I have only three pages left.” I knew that was code for “See you later, Alligator.” So I took the hint and tried to find Taco because I felt a teeny bit lonely.
I thought of calling Maybelle, but it was too late, and besides, I haven’t even told her that I am not happy about Chuck + Kelli. And maybe I shouldn’t say anything because it seems like Maybelle + Kelli are becoming friends now too.
I guess everyone is falling under Kelli’s sparkly spell—even the new science teacher. We did a unit on space and Kelli told our whole class all about a lunar eclipse she saw on one of her fancy vacations. And the teacher was just beaming.
AVA + TACO
PS Petting Taco helped…until he ran away.
PPS I bet it would be nice to like a boy who liked you back.
PPPS I wish I liked reading as much as Pip does. Whenever she wants to take her mind off things, she can enter a whole new world without even putting her shoes on. I’m a word nerd too, but I like writing more than reading, so the only world I ever hang out in is Misty Oaks.
2/11
IN THE LIBRARY
DEAR DIARY,
At breakfast, Mom asked us to sign a Valentine’s card to go with a present for Nana Ethel. In my best handwriting, I wrote:
The Wren Family would like to say:
Happy Happy Valentine’s Day!
Pip decorated it with flowers (mostly azaleas) and birds (mostly wrens).
We all four signed, and Pip added a paw print for Taco, and I added an XOX for kiss hug kiss. (Another perfect palindrome.)
Mom said, “Great job!”
But it was not a J-O-B. It was a J-O-Y.
Observation: one little letter can make a BIG difference!
I put the card in an envelope and asked if I should tape it on the present. Mom said, “No, tie it on,” and handed me some ribbon.
“Is that a palindrome?” I asked and wrote it down: N-O-T-I-E-I-T-O-N. “Whoa! It is!” I announced and showed everyone.
“W-O-W,” Mom said, so I showed her how WOW and MOM and AVA all look the exact same in the mirror, whereas PIP and SIS and DAD do not. She smiled and said, “H-U-H, so they’re symmetrical.”
“Cool, right?” I said.
She nodded, and Dad said, “Do you ladies think Dr. Seuss was a word nerd?”
Pip said, “Definitely.”
“Aha!” Dad continued in a teasing way. “But do you think he had Seuss issues?”
Mom and Pip looked puzzled, but I got it and said, “He definitely had Seuss issues! He had serious S-E-U-S-S-I-S-S-U-E-S!!”
Mom laughed and Dad high-fived me.
A-V-A, SYMMETRICAL
2/11
AFTER SCHOOL
DEAR DIARY,
Obviously, I believe in girl power and think girls should dream big and go after their goals, just like boys. But today Kelli wore a bright-pink Girl Power sweatshirt to school, and it bugs me that she acts all entitled and as if she expects to get whatever she wants.
Emily Sherman said that in third grade, Kelli’s mom let her have a party at the Pampered Princess, an hour away. Everyone got manicures and pedicures and facials!
“What’s a facial?” I asked.
“It’s when someone rubs cream on your cheeks and puts cucumber slices on your eyelids to help you relax.”
“Oh.” I tried to remember third grade. Did I need creams and cucumbers to relax? I’m pretty sure I could relax by jumping rope or watching videos or hanging out with Pip or Maybelle or…Chuck.
Speaking of, at lunch, Kelli sat at a table near ours, and when Chuck walked by, she said, “Chuck! I saved you a seat!” So he sat down with her.
Confession: it took away my appetite.
Zara says Kelli’s been saving him a seat on the bus home from school every day too.
Does Chuck even want to sit next to Kelli all the time?
Should I ask him?
And why do I care as much as I obviously do? Do I like-like my friend Chuck??
In FLASH, Ms. Sickle said feelings can be messy.
I think she’s right. It would be easier if when you liked a person, that person liked you back the exact same amount in the exact same way, and that was that.
Ms. Sickle broke us into groups and had us flip through women’s magazines. She said we should look for pages that show “mixed and contradictory messages.” At first we didn’t know what she meant. But then it was “eye-opening” because the magazines had ads for candy bars and recipes of gooey desserts right next to articles on how to “shed pounds fast.” Ms. Sickle said it’s hard to “live mindfully” in a world full of temptations, but it’s important to try.
AVA, OPEN-EYED?
2/11
TWENTY MINUTES LATER
DEAR DIARY,
There’s something I didn’t tell you, and now I’m almost embarrassed to, even though you’re my private diary. But writing helps, so here goes:
At the end of the day, I had to pee, so I went to the girls’ room and dashed in and out and didn’t notice that I’d stepped on a piece of toilet paper. I ran to where Pip usually meets me after school, and two older kids were pointing at my feet and smirking. One was Loudmouth Lacey, that girl who wears thick eyeliner and used to pick on Pip. The other was an eighth grader named Rorie who everyone says is mean. (She looks like she could beat people up without even trying.)
Chuck must have noticed, because he came over and mumbled, “TP alert.”
“Huh?” I said. (I did not spell it out.)
He pointed at my left boot, and I glanced down and saw the tissue trail and thought, OMG! TP? I mumbled thanks and stepped on the tissue with my right boot. The TP came off, but so did what was left of my dignity.
When I looked up, Chuck was gone—probably already on the bus next to Kelli, who would never be caught dead dragging TP around. (Not that I was literally “caught dead.” I mean, I’m still breathing.)
Anyway, Pip showed up with Tanya, and my face must have been toilet-paper white, because Pip said, “What’s the matter?”
All I could say was, “Nothing.”
AVA, NOTHING
PS One of tomorrow’s spelling test words is humiliated.
2/11
BEDTIME
DEAR DIARY,
After school, Tanya and Pip worked on their homework poster. So I made a poster too. I made mine for Bates Books, and in my best handwriting, I wrote: “Books are gifts you can open again and again.” I even added, “Buy Local,” because Bea said it drives her parents crazy when people browse for books at their store and then order them online. Mrs. Bates says she wishes they’d worry about “saving their community,” not just “saving every dollar.” She also says bookstores give towns “character,” which is funny since bookstores are full of books that are full of characters.
Anyway, we made popcorn, but Tanya melted half a stick of butter and poured it all over the top, and it ended up too buttery.
After Tanya left, I told Pip about the toilet paper, and she said, “That’s happened to everybody,” which made me feel better. Then Pip told me what she is worrying about. It’s way bigger than tagalong TP.
Last week, Pip’s Spanish class got divided up into pairs, and one kid from each pair had to reach into a hat and pick out a name of an artist from a Spanish-speaking country. “One kid got Picasso,” Pip said. “Another got Goya. Another got Frida Kahlo. Another got El Greco. Another got Velázquez. And Tanya picked for us and got Botero.” (I had to look up those spellings.)
Pip said each pair of kids is supposed to give a short talk and make a poster of one of their artist’s paintings.
“So? What’s the problema?” (That’s “problem” in Spanish.)
“We have to do our presentations during an assembly in front of the whole middle school!”
“But in English, right?”
“Duh.”
“And for kids, not parents, right?”
“Right.”
“You can do it, Pip!” I said, because Pip really has come out of the shell she used to be all scrunched up inside.
Then again, it was still hard to picture Pip talking in front of such a big group.
“It’s not just me. It’s Tanya.” Pip lowered her voice as if she didn’t even want to say what she was about to say. “We were talking about height and weight, and she…she…told me she wears size XXXL.”
I waited. Pip is not the kind of person who judges people on their appearance. She doesn’t even judge books by their covers.
Pip pushed her art book toward me. “Look.”
I looked, and it was open to the Botero paintings. Well, it turns out that Botero has a very particular style. Someone could probably walk right into a museum and say, “I bet Botero painted that!” He paints all his subjects larger than life. There was a big round king, and a big round princess, and a big round dancer, and a big round bullfighter. Suddenly I understood the problema. Botero paints big people, and Tanya is…not small.
“Oh,” I said.
“I just hope no one says anything,” Pip said. “Tanya’s pretty insecure. One of her cousins makes fun of her.”
“That’s terrible,” I said.
Pip showed me the poster that they’d finished drawing and coloring. They’d done a really good job copying the Mona Lisa. But it was not the Mona Lisa that Leonardo da Vinci painted hundreds of years ago. It was a Mona Lisa that Botero painted much more recently.
Oh, I’ll just come out and say it. Botero’s Mona Lisa is…chubby. Instead of an oval, her face is a circle. Her cheeks and chin and neck are big, and her eyes and nose and mouth are small.
We were both quiet, and I got an idea. “Pip, I could make Tanya a valentine, an anonymous one.”
“Like from a secret admirer?”
“Not lovey-dovey, just nice. And unsigned. Maybe it would boost her confidence?”
“I don’t think it’s that easy. But sure, if you want.” Pip went back to her homework, and I made a heart-shaped valentine for Tanya that I’m going to sneak into her locker tomorrow. It says:
Happy Valentine’s Day to a very sweet person!
I decorated it with red balloons and red lollipops—though I’m not sure you can tell which are which.
AVA, MORE ALTRUISTIC THAN ARTISTIC (ALTRUISTIC MEANS WANTING TO HELP)
2/12
MORNING, STILL IN BED
DEAR DIARY,
I dreamed I made a valentine for Chuck but was too embarrassed to give it to him.
Question one: Do boys ever dream about girls?
Question two: Do I wish Chuck were my valentine?
Since you are my diary and no one else will ever read this, I guess I will admit that I think I do.
Okay, yes, I do.
I do.
I do like Chuck.
Wait, all those “I do’s” make it sound like we’re getting married!!
All I mean is that I realize that when I think about Chuck, I keep thinking about him. He doesn’t just cross my mind; he finds a chair and sits right down!
And usually that’s okay, because thinking about him makes me smile. Lately, though, it makes me frown.
Is he telling Kelli jokes and making her laugh? Does he think about her as much as I think about him?
AVA :-(
2/12
FIFTH PERIOD, IN THE LIBRARY
DEAR DIARY,
After homeroom, I went to the bathroom and was about to come out of the stall when I recognized Kelli’s and Zara’s voices. Kelli said, “Isn’t Chuck soooo cute? Do you think he’s the tallest boy in fifth grade?”
Zara said, “Maybe. Or maybe tied with Jamal?”
“I can’t wait for my party!” Kelli said. “Should I invite the whole grade?”
Zara said, “If your parents will let you, why not?”
“Oh, there are a few kids I could do without!” She laughed, and I wondered who she meant. Did she mean me? I don’t like her, but does she not like me? And if so, is it because Chuck and I are…friends?
Well, I couldn’t just poke my head out, so I had to stay hidden until the coast was clear. And it was awkward sitting there, trapped. Plus, Mrs. Hamshire gets mad if you’re even two seconds “tardy.”
Finally Zara and Kelli must have had to pee, because they went into the stalls on either side of me. The second they closed the doors, I made a run for it—and a beeline to math class.
At lunch, Kelli announced that she was having a Valentine’s party, and now that’s all anybody can talk about. It’s our grade’s first boy-girl party—if you don’t count all the ones we had when we were little.
I wish the party weren’t at Kelli’s.
I also wish I had the guts to give Chuck a card—or collage.
But he’s not my valentine, so that would be inappropriate!
AVA, APPROPRIATE
2/12
3:30 P.M.
DEAR DIARY,
Taco Cat and I were on the sofa, and Pip was on the floor working on her new book, Z Is for Zinnia. She’s made three pages: A is for azalea, B is for buttercup, and C is for chrysanthemum. (Note: chrysanthemum is a hard spelling word, which is one reason most people just say “mum.”)
Anyway, P-I-P was filling in the petals of her M-U-M and making them R-E-D-D-E-R and R-E-D-D-E-R (palindrome alert!), and I asked if Tanya had said anything about getting a valentine.
Pip said, “No, but she did ask me a personal question.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘Didn’t you used to be shy? Like really shy?’” Pip looked at me. “I didn’t answer right away, but she kept asking how I got less shy, so I ended up telling her the whole story about how you and Bea made those five Pip Pointers to help me get braver.”
“You told her about the five Pip Pointers??”
“Yes. And you know what she said? She said she wished she had ten Tanya Tips to help her lose weight because she knows she’s not ‘the prettiest flower in the garden.’”
“She said that?” I made a sad little “Oh” sound. It just came out. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t know what to say! I objected and everything. But Tanya said that all her relatives—except her grandmother—used to say, ‘Look how big you are!’ like it was a compliment, and then one day she noticed that, without any warning, that sentence went from being a good thing to a bad thing.”
“That’s awful!”
“I know. So I said I’d ask you.”
“Me?”
“You and Bea.”
I scrunched my face and pointed out that Bea and I don’t know anything about losing weight. “Bea only knew about shyness because her brother Ben used to be shy.”
“He’s not anymore,” Pip said and smiled to herself. Then she added, “Oh, c’mon, Ava. You told me Bea wants to be an advice columnist.”
“Yeah, but someone who wants to be a pilot can’t fly an airplane,” I protested. “And someone who wants to be a doctor can’t perform an operation. And someone who wants to be a boxer can’t—”
“Can’t you and Bea just give it a try?” Pip asked, interrupting. “I bet it took a lot of guts for Tanya to ask.”
“Let me think about it,” I said.
AVA, CORNERED
2/12
BEDTIME
DEAR DIARY,
At dinner, I told Mom and Dad that I got another 100 on our Friday spelling test. Dad said, “Way to go!” and Mom said, “Good for you!” (They used to forget to say things like that.)
What I didn’t say out loud is that
when we graded the tests, Chuck and I traded papers—and this was the highlight of my whole day.
One of the words was handkerchief, and Chuck wrote Kleenex. I thought that was really creative and he should get at least partial credit. But Mrs. Lemons said to mark it wrong. He also got earnest and sincere wrong. Another word was palindrome, which of course I know backward and forward. Another was afterthought, which I sometimes used to feel like at home back when Mom and Dad were always worrying about Pip. One last word was valentine.
When Chuck gave me back my test, he drew a big star around the 100. When I gave back his, I did not circle the 70, but I did whisper, “You got palindrome and valentine right.”
He whispered, “Did you hear about Kelli’s party this weekend?”
I nodded.
He said, “You going?”
I nodded again.
He said, “Me too.”
Maybe I should have left well enough alone, but I didn’t. I whispered, “Are you and Kelli really going out?” I could not believe I said that!
He looked like he couldn’t either. His eyes went wide, and he turned a little pink. “Sort of.”
Mrs. Lemons said, “No talking.” She looked right at us and added, “Or whispering.”
I passed Chuck a note: “Sort of?”
He turned the note over, scribbled on it, and pushed it back to me. It said, “1. I’m not aloud to go out.” (He wrote “aloud,” but I knew he meant allowed.)
Then he ripped a second strip of paper from his notebook and wrote “2.” He was about to scribble something else, but the bell rang, and You-Know-Who was already peeking in the little window in the door. (If you don’t know, I’ll give you a hint: she was wearing a sparkly sunshine-yellow headband.)
AVA, NOTE PASSER
PS What was Chuck going to write in his second note??
2/13
SATURDAY MORNING