Ava XOX

by Carol Weston

  DEAR DIARY,

  There’s no school on Monday because of Abraham Lincoln’s and George Washington’s birthdays. I cannot tell a lie: I love three-day weekends!

  Y-A-Y presidents!

  I also like that it’s not getting dark quite so early. But it’s still icy cold out. Today I went outside to bring in the newspaper, and I could see my breath.

  Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, and the whole grade is going to Kelli’s. She said all the girls should wear red or pink. I don’t own anything pink, but Pip has a top I can borrow that is not too girlie-girlie.

  This morning Pip asked me if I’d talked to Bea yet, and I had to admit that I hadn’t. She said I should and handed me her cell phone, with the number already pressed in.

  Bea answered, and I said hi, and she said, “What’s up?”

  “The ceiling,” I replied, but then felt immature since Bea is two years older than me. So I just went ahead and told her that Pip talked to Tanya about the Pip Pointers and now Tanya wants us to come up with Tanya Tips—but about weight loss. I thought Bea might say, “Tanya’s weight is not my problem” or “What do I know?” But Bea said Tanya was one of the first kids who was nice to her when she moved to Misty Oaks and added, “I didn’t know her weight bothered her.”

  “Want to come over?” I asked.

  “One sec,” Bea said, and I heard a muffled conversation. Then she said, “Or you and Pip can come to the bookshop. Ben and I are about to go there.”

  I ran that idea by Pip, and she liked it and jumped in the shower. Now she’s drying her hair with a blow-dryer and just asked loudly, “Should I give Ben the valentine I made?”

  “Definitely,” I shouted back, Little Miss Love Expert.

  “Think he’ll have one for me?” she shouted.

  “I don’t know if boys are as into Valentine’s Day as girls,” I shouted back. “But he could always grab one from the card rack.”

  Pip shouted, “That’s real romantic.”

  I rolled up my poster and put it in my backpack and mumbled, “At least you’re giving your valentine to a boy. I’m giving mine to a store.”

  AVA, WHOSE CRUSH IS SOMEONE ELSE’S VALENTINE

  PS I didn’t mean to write “CRUSH,” but it was like my hand had a mind of its own. (Wait. Can hands have minds?)

  2/13

  2:13 P.M.

  DEAR DIARY,

  We entered the bookstore, and Mrs. Bates put my poster by the register, which made me feel good.

  Bea and Ben came over, and we went to the back and put our coats and hats and scarves and gloves in a big clothes puddle in the corner. Then Pip gave Ben her handmade valentine, and he handed her a great big red envelope! It was romantic! Especially since Bates Books is practically polka-dotted with hearts.

  Ben and Pip stayed in the kids’ section, and Bea and I walked to a grown-up section. Meow Meow, their friendly Creamsicle-colored cat, followed us, his tail high in the air.

  I have to say: I’d never noticed how many books are in Bates Books. I guess I’d always hung out in the kids’ area, but there are shelves and shelves of books for grown-ups.

  Mrs. Lemons once told us about genres—like mysteries and sci-fi and fantasy and graphic novels and historical fiction and realistic fiction (my favorite). But most books are nonfiction. And a lot of them have to do with food.

  I’m not kidding. Bates Books sells hundreds of cookbooks. Some explain how to cook French or Italian or Greek or Mexican or Indian or Chinese meals. Some explain how to cook soup or fish or meat or vegetables or dessert. Some are for beginners, some are for experts, some are for people with allergies. And they’re all bursting with recipes and photos! They’re like picture books for grown-ups.

  Right next to the cookbooks are diet books. Tons of them! There are almost as many books about not eating as there are about eating! It made me think of when Ms. Sickles had us look for “mixed and contradictory messages.” Bea said they have books about eating disorders too, like when people eat so much, they make themselves sick, or starve themselves and have to go to the hospital.

  “I think Tanya wants just general suggestions,” I said.

  We sat on the floor and started looking at self-help books on “wellness,” and I started writing down tips. Bea said her mom and dad don’t like it when kids treat the bookstore as if it’s a “lending library,” but they don’t mind if she does.

  I told her that if we come up with a good list for Tanya, I might make a poster for FLASH class. I also told her that Ms. Sickle just put up a poster with a giant B+ and, underneath, the words: “Be positive.”

  Bea smiled, and Meow Meow rubbed up against my knee and hopped onto my lap and started purring and purring like there was no place he’d rather be. (Taco never does that.) “He’s such a good cat,” I said.

  “I know,” Bea said.

  We kept leafing through books and talking, and I took notes like: “If you drink sugary soda, try to switch to water.” And “If you tend to eat fast, try to put down your fork between some bites.” And “Leave the ice cream in the grocery store because it’s much easier to resist temptation once in a store than all day long at home.” I also wrote “Use smaller plates,” and “Take the stairs not the elevator,” and “Go places by bike, not car,” which is exactly what Pip and I had just done even though it had meant bundling up with hats, scarves, and gloves.

  Besides all the practical tips, Bea said her aunt—the psychotherapist—would say to think “big picture.”

  “Big picture?”

  “Like, picture yourself in better shape so you’re ‘visualizing success,’ rather than just ‘feeling deprived.’”

  I nodded, and Bea kept dictating tips like, “Avoid high-fructose corn syrup.” And “Don’t expect to drop pounds overnight.” And “Give yourself lots of credit for trying to take better care of yourself.”

  It was fun to be working with Bea again. Interesting too, because I’d never thought about carbs, calories, or corn syrup.

  It reminded me of when we made the Pip Pointers, back when Pip could hardly say hi to people.

  I guess we all have different strengths and weaknesses.

  One of my strengths is spelling. I can spell carbohydrate even though I’m not exactly sure what it means.

  One of my weaknesses is math. I wish I could remember numbers the way I can remember letters. But everyone’s brain is different. Chuck once joked: “There are three kinds of people in this world—those who can count and those who can’t.”

  One of Pip’s strengths is drawing and another is concentration. When she reads, she’s in another world. Sirens could be blaring all around, and she wouldn’t hear them. Another strength is her sense of direction. The only place she gets lost is inside books!

  Well, this might be another one of my weaknesses (or maybe it’s normal?), but once something starts to bother me, it’s hard for me to stop thinking about it every single second. So another nice thing about being with Bea was that it got my mind off Kelli and her sparkly headbands and perfect backflips and princess parties and how she stole Chuck away from me (even though he was never mine in the first place and she probably didn’t know I liked him, since I barely knew).

  After a while, Meow Meow jumped off my lap and climbed onto the pile of clothes to take a catnap while Bea and I put all the books back. I thought about asking Bea what to do if you have a crush on a boy who is “taken” and who used to be your best guy friend. But I didn’t.

  When you hang out with older kids, it’s better not to remind them of how immature you are.

  On the bike ride home, Pip led the way but seemed upset, which was weird because she’d been so happy an hour earlier.

  “What’s wrong?” I shouted.

  She didn’t say, “Nothing,” which meant, “Something.” When we got home, she went straight to her room and closed the door.
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  I went into my room and spent a little time with my stuffed animals. Sometimes I worry that I’m neglecting them. But now that I’m eleven, I guess it makes sense that I don’t play with Winnie the Pooh all day.

  H-U-H. I just thought of something. If Winnie owned a hula hoop, it would be Pooh’s hoop or P-O-O-H-S-H-O-O-P.

  I wonder what’s bugging P-I-P anyway.

  A-V-A, L-I-L S-I-S

  2/13

  ALMOST DINNERTIME

  DEAR DIARY,

  I got a haircut today. A bob (B-O-B)!

  Maybelle is about to come over for a sleepover. Y-A-Y for BFFs!

  Dad showed me some words that come out funny if you re-arrange their letters, so I’m taping in my favorites:

  WORDS

  SAME WORDS WITH REARRANGED LETTERS

  THE EYES

  THEY SEE

  ASTRONOMER

  MOON STARER

  SNOOZE ALARMS

  ALAS NO MORE Z’S

  A DECIMAL POINT

  I’M A DOT IN PLACE

  THE MORSE CODE

  HERE COME DOTS

  DORMITORY

  DIRTY ROOM

  LISTEN

  SILENT

  I started looking for words inside AVA ELLE WREN and found lots, like EVER and NEVER and REVEAL and ALL NEW.

  AVA ELLE WREN, ALL NEW

  PS You know what TACO is scrambled? COAT. And you know what TACO CAT scrambled is? CAT COAT or…fur!

  2/13

  PAST MY BEDTIME

  DEAR DIARY,

  Maybelle conked out (maybe because she does a lot of sports all week), but I couldn’t fall asleep, so I’m writing in you with the light-up pen that Bea gave me last year.

  It’s funny. A lot of people like to read at night, but I like to write at night.

  Anyway, dinner was chicken potpie, and Pip was as quiet as in the olden days. The rest of us started talking about pen names or pseudonyms. Like Mark Twain’s real name was Samuel Clemens. And Lewis Carroll’s real name was Charles Dodgson. And Lemony Snicket’s is Daniel Handler.

  Mom also talked about a cat with kidney failure that Dr. Gross had to “put down.” She said their office always sends out a condolence note after a pet dies, but today’s made her sad because the lady was eighty-six and the cat’s name was Valentine.

  Dad changed the subject away from dead pets and asked Maybelle about soccer and Mathletes. Maybelle answered, then said she’d brought us each a box of “conversation hearts”—and me a bag of gummy bears.

  Next thing you know, Mom and Dad both found a heart that said “MARRY ME,” and gave them to each other, which was pretty…sweet.

  Maybelle said the Sweethearts company makes two billion hearts a year.

  Mom and Dad seemed impressed, but Pip just shrugged.

  After dinner, Pip, Maybelle, and I went upstairs, so I said, “Pip, you should show Maybelle the valentine Ben gave you!”

  Pip said, “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “No way!”

  “Yes way! Why not?”

  “Because!”

  “Because what?”

  Maybelle began to squirm. She’s an only child and doesn’t get that sister fights are not that big a deal. Personally, I think Pip wanted to show us but also wanted me to beg. I wasn’t even surprised when, two minutes later, she said, “Oh fine. Come in, but close the door behind you.”

  We went into her room, and Taco scurried in too. He sniffed Maybelle’s socks but did not climb onto her lap and start purring up a storm, like Meow Meow.

  Pip took out the valentine. The envelope was even bigger than I remembered! It was giant, and the card inside was shaped like a bouquet of roses!

  “Whoa,” Maybelle said.

  “So what’s the matter?” I asked. I can tell when my sister is upset. I’ve known her since the day I was born. (She was two years, two months, and two weeks old when she met me—not that either of us remembers.)

  “Read what he wrote,” she said. We did. And it did not take long at all because what Ben wrote was just three words (four if you count his name).

  After I read the words, I said, “Oh.”

  Maybelle read the words aloud: “I love you.” She looked from me to Pip and didn’t seem to get what the problem was. But I did. Obviously, D-A-D, M-O-M, P-I-P, and I take words (not just palindromes) very seriously, and LOVE is a very serious word!

  For instance, I think about Chuck a lot (too much?), but I’d never, ever write “I love you” on a valentine!

  I guess it can be tricky to put feelings into words. Maybe that’s why so many Valentine cards mostly have pictures of kittens (and puppies and bunnies and ducklings) that make you melt and go “Awww.”

  “So what did you say?” I asked.

  “I thanked him for the card,” Pip said.

  “You didn’t say it back?” Maybelle asked.

  Pip shook her head sadly.

  “Did he notice that you didn’t?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Do you love him?” I asked really quietly.

  Pip squinted. “Isn’t love for when we’re older?”

  “Ben is in eighth grade,” Maybelle pointed out.

  “Well, I didn’t feel right saying it. So I didn’t.”

  Maybelle and I stayed silent. Taco put his head under his paw.

  “But I guess I should say…something,” Pip added.

  “Want us to talk to him for you?” I asked. “I could tell Bea to tell Ben—”

  “NO!” Pip shouted before even I realized that this was a moronic idea.

  Taco darted out the door, and I mumbled, “Just trying to help.”

  “I know,” Pip said. “But, Ava, you have to be careful! It’s not enough to have good intentions.” Obviously she was referring to the boneheaded “Sting of the Queen Bee” story I wrote last fall when I felt bad for Pip after her birthday party got canceled. (Bea had thrown a huge boy-girl party on the same day that Pip was having her slumber party—but Bea hadn’t done it on purpose.) “And don’t tell Mom and Dad!”

  “I won’t.”

  “I don’t want them worrying that Ben and I are getting too serious. Because we aren’t!”

  “Okay!” I said a little huffily.

  “Think I should text him?” Pip asked.

  “Maybe,” Maybelle said.

  Pip sighed as if she couldn’t believe she was asking fifth graders for advice on her love life—or not-love life.

  She took a breath, picked up her cell phone, and started to type. Then she showed us what she wrote: “Dear Ben, I you but I don’t feel ready to use the L word. I hope that’s okay. Please don’t take it personally because I like you as much as I’ve ever liked any boy. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

  “That’s good,” I said and tried to imagine texting Chuck something like that someday. (Not that I even have a cell phone!)

  “Should I press Send?” she asked.

  We nodded and…she did.

  Then we all sat there and stared at her phone.

  Nothing happened.

  “He might be playing video games,” Maybelle said after a minute.

  “Or at a movie,” I said.

  “Or eating dinner with his parents,” Maybelle said.

  “Or doing homework,” I added.

  Pip looked worried and reread the text she’d sent. To distract her, I said, “You should show Maybelle Z Is for Zinnia!”

  P
ip nodded and got out her book project. Since I’d last seen it, she had drawn F is for foxglove, G is for geranium, H is for hollyhock, and I is for iris.

  “You’re such a good artist!” Maybelle gushed, so Pip got out the Botero poster and showed it to her too.

  Maybelle took one look and laughed out loud. “Hahaha! That’s hysterical! A tubby Mona Lisa!”

  Pip snatched back the poster, rolled it up, and said, “It’s not supposed to be ‘hysterical.’”

  Maybelle looked at me, confused, and apologized to Pip.

  I felt bad for both of them.

  Soon Maybelle and I went downstairs and made P-O-P P-O-P P-O-P popcorn. I told her that Pip is nervous because in three days, she and Tanya have to talk in front of the whole middle school.

  “Who’s Tanya?” Maybelle asked, and I described her. “Oh, I know! Chubby, but a pretty face, right?”

  I nodded and wondered if Tanya knew that this was probably how most people described her. Nice people, anyway. Who knows what not-nice people said? (Poor Tanya!)

  I watched as Maybelle attempted to pour the popcorn equally into two bowls. She was taking a long time, so I teased, “You could count the kernels.”

  She threw a piece of popcorn at me, and I tossed it up in the air and tried to catch it in my mouth, but I missed.

  “Do you think people ever love each other the exact same amount?” I asked as I picked up the piece of popcorn.

  “I don’t think love is something you can quantify,” she answered.

  We both laughed because that was such a Maybelle thing to say. (Math is one of her strengths!)

  But is love lopsided? Is it like an out-of-balance seesaw? Does one person always like the other one more?

  And will tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day party be fun?

  AVA, ASKING

  2/13

  A LITTLE LATER

  DEAR DIARY,

  Maybelle is still asleep, and I’m still awake, so I got Bea’s light-up pen back out because I wanted to write down a joke Dad told me: