by Carol Weston
Yesterday at school, it felt like all eyes were on me. Like I was at the eye of a storm.
A-V-A, E-Y-E?
2/21
LATE AFTERNOON
DEAR DIARY,
Dad made his famous Irish breakfast, and Pip told us she dreamed that Z Is for Zinnia won an award. I said I dreamed that some big kids were about to beat me up.
“Oh, honey,” Mom said.
Later I went to Maybelle’s, and we watched a Disney movie. That helped take my mind off my troubles—except for the part in Beauty and the Beast when the whole town just assumes that Beast is terrible when he isn’t.
I decided to ask Maybelle about her sleepover with Kelli and Zara.
She said it was fun. At least she didn’t say, “It was sooooo much fun!” Maybelle knows it hasn’t been easy for me to watch her become friends with Zara, and now with Zara’s friend Kelli—a.k.a. my…enemy? My rival?
“What did you guys do?” I asked.
“We watched a movie and went to the Great Wall,” she said. (That made me extra glad that my family didn’t go!) Maybelle looked up and added, “I will say this: Kelli’s mom is a little—”
“A little what?”
Maybelle hesitated. “Well, let’s just say she let us watch a movie that our parents and Zara’s grandparents would never have let us watch. It was about a teenage girl who likes a boy who is a bad influence. And Kelli’s mother, Candi—”
“Candy?”
“Candi with an i!”
“Go on.”
“She watched part of it with us and acted…inappropriate.”
“What do you mean? You have to tell me!”
“She said when she was our age, she wanted to be bigger, you know, up top. And she showed us this exercise she used to do with her friends. They’d kick back their arms and chant, ‘We must, we must, we must build up the bust. The bigger, the better, the tighter the sweater, the boys will look at us!’”
“Omigod!”
“I know!”
“What did you and Zara do?”
“What could we do?”
“Didn’t Kelli make her stop? Or tell her she was being, I don’t know, sexist and sizist and…weird?”
“I don’t think Kelli realized how weird it was. All she said was, ‘Did it work?’”
“What did her mom say?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you call her Candi?”
“Of course not!” Maybelle repeated.
I nodded and thought, My mom may not be the huggiest mom in the world, but at least she’s not embarrassing with a capital E.
Back home, Mom was reading in bed and said, “Come in,” so I did. I even got in next to her. She asked me what had caused “all the fuss” at school. So I told her that Tanya got laughed at in assembly, and I got ostracized (spelling word) in the cafeteria. She asked me to show her the Tanya Tips, so I did, explaining that I hadn’t called anyone “fat,” and Rorie had taken everything personally.
Mom nodded, and for a second, I wished she would give me a big hug and say all the right words like TV moms do. But Mom isn’t like that. Her mom, Nana Ethel, isn’t either.
Here’s what Mom did say: “People get very sensitive about this subject. It’s a minefield. Even Dr. Gross has to be supercareful when he tells clients that their cats or dogs need to lose weight.” She looked at me. “He avoids saying ‘fat’ because it’s such a loaded word.”
“Like a loaded gun?”
“Well, not that dangerous.” She met my eyes. “And not as dangerous as a real minefield either.”
I pointed out that the word diet has the word die in it.
Mom chuckled. “Even for animals,” she said, “losing weight is harder than you’d think. It’s mostly up to the owner to buy special foods, provide exercise, and hold back on table scraps. No one wants to hear that their pet should go on a diet, but if an owner wants a pet to live a good, long life…”
Just then, Taco nudged the door open with his head, padded toward us, and jumped onto the bed. Mom and I started petting him, and after a moment, Taco started purring.
I like how sweet Mom is with Taco. I sometimes forget that he’s not only my first real pet, he’s Mom’s first real pet too!
“Taco’s not a fat cat, right?” I whispered.
“Right,” Mom replied.
“But he’s not as scrawny as he was when we rescued him, right?”
“Right,” she repeated.
“He’s purr-fect,” I said, and Mom agreed. I kissed Taco on his white zigzag.
“He’s at a healthy weight for an adult indoor male,” she added.
“You know the expression ‘puppy love’? There should be a term ‘kitty love.’”
Mom laughed. “You’re right. There should.”
AVA, RIGHT NOT WRONG
PS What I feel about Chuck may not be “true love,” but it’s more than “puppy love.”
2/21
BEDTIME
DEAR DIARY,
I just read an Aesop fable that I wish I hadn’t. Its moral is the opposite of the one for “The Lion and the Mouse.”
That’s the famous fable about the lion who gets really mad at the mouse who wakes him from a nap. The mouse begs the lion to spare him, and the lion says okay, and later, when hunters throw a net over the lion, the mouse sees him and starts gnawing away at the ropes and saves the lion’s life. The moral? “No good deed is ever wasted.”
Well, this fable, the one I just read, is called “The Frog and the Scorpion,” and its moral is “No good deed goes unpunished.” It starts out with a scorpion who begs a frog to ferry him to the other side of a stream:
“How do I know you won’t sting me?” asks the frog.
“If I do, I will die too, because I can’t swim,” says the scorpion.
“How do I know you won’t sting me when we get to the other side?” asks the frog.
“I would never do that!” says the scorpion.
The frog says, “Okay, fine,” and the scorpion crawls onto the frog’s back, and they start across the water. In the middle, the scorpion stings the frog! His poison paralyzes the frog, and suddenly they are both about to drown.
“Why did you sting me?” the frog says. “Now we’re both going to die!”
“It’s who I am,” the scorpion says. “I couldn’t help it.”
Worst. Fable. Ever.
I mean, I like how Aesop sometimes tells different stories to make different points. And I get that the world is complicated.
But still. “No good deed goes unpunished” is a terrible moral.
(Even if it might sometimes be a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty bit true.)
AVA, STUNG
2/22 (A PALINDROME DATE)
AFTER SCHOOL
DEAR DIARY,
Observation: when things are bad, you can tell who your friends are. Today a lot of people were looking at me, and a few were looking out for me.
Not Rorie. If looks could kill, I’d be dead as a doornail! She and her gang got detentions because they “harassed” me, and I bet she’s blaming me for that—which is totally not fair. I also saw Lacey today, and she stared at me in a way that made me want to go hide in a bathroom stall!
Maybelle was extra sweet all day.
Zara was too.
And Bea was…three. In the hallway, she even said that those older girls had had no right to “dump on me,” and there was “nothing wrong with our list.” I was glad she didn’t add, “Except your title,” since I was the one who’d idiotically called it “FIT OR FAT.”
Tanya actually left a note in my locker. It said, “Don’t let the turkeys get you down. (Not easy, I know.) Gobble, gobble.” She even sketched an excellent turkey with a droopy wattle and trusting eyes. An hour later, I left a note in her locker that sai
d “Thanks!” and drew the only turkey I know how to draw, which is the kind you trace with your five fingers, the way we learned in first grade.
At lunch, Alla, a sixth grader whose name is a palindrome (A-L-L-A), told me that some of those same girls picked on her when she moved here from Russia. She also said that at her bus stop this morning, Tanya told her that her whole family is giving up soda.
“They are?” I asked.
Alla nodded and added that Tanya had asked her if she wanted to start taking walks after school.
“What did you say?”
“I said sure. So we’re going to try to walk on Thursdays.”
Okay, I am now about to tell you the best part. One other person was really nice to me today. Can you guess who?
Chuck! Yes, Chuck!
He and I got to English before anyone else, so we were alone for about one minute, maybe two. He said, “I heard what happened.” I looked right at him, and my nose got tingly and my eyes got hot. “I wish I could help,” he said.
“Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a writer,” I said. I didn’t expect to say that, but sometimes with Chuck, all I can be is honest. And after all, my writing does keep causing trouble, whether I write about a queen bee or rescue cat or weight loss. “I probably shouldn’t be trusted with a pen.”
“Ava, don’t say that! You’re a great writer! The S rule was funny. So was the O rule.” He met my eyes.
“Wait! You saw the poster before they took it down?” Had Chuck read what I wrote about Seconds, Sweets, Snacks, and Sugary Soda? And Fritos, Cheetos, Doritos, Tostitos, and Oreos?
“I recognized your handwriting, so I read it on Friday morning.”
“You didn’t think it was bossy and offensive? Or that I was acting like the ‘body police’?”
He shook his head. “I thought it was sincere and earnest.” He smiled because those were recent spelling words. “And brave,” he added. “And…sweet.”
He kept looking at me, and maybe this is all in my imagination, but it felt like he was thinking “…like you.” And that he could tell I was thinking this.
It was as if we could read each other’s minds.
“Chuck,” I said, meeting his eyes, “you said you wished you could help, and I think you just did.”
AVA, FEELING A BIT BETTER
2/22
BEDTIME
DEAR DIARY,
For Meatless Monday, Dad made kale quiche and a salad with fava beans, avocado, radishes, and quinoa. If I had to grade dinner, I’d give it a 75.
I don’t get why quinoa is so popular, but maybe I don’t understand popularity.
After dinner, I opened the drawer by my bed because I wanted to take a peek at my pack of gum. The one Chuck gave me. I thought it would make me feel warm. And calm. And happy.
Well, I opened the drawer and…the pack was opened! There were two crinkled wrappers and two missing pieces!
I barged into Pip’s room without even knocking. “PIP!” I screamed. “What did you do?”
She was under the covers reading I Is for Innocent. “What?”
“That was my gum!” I said loudly.
She looked confused.
“You opened my pack of GUM!”
She stared at me. “Since when is that a federal crime?”
This might sound stupid, but since you are my diary and you can’t laugh or tell anyone, I will tell you what I did next: I started to cry. To bawl.
“Whoa, whoa, Ava, I can buy you a new pack,” Pip offered.
“Chuck gave me that pack,” I said, gulping. “You can’t just replace it. It was special. It was”—I looked up at Ben’s card on her bulletin board—“like a valentine.”
“Chuck?” Pip asked, wide-eyed. “Chuck-Chuck?”
I nodded and felt like an idiot.
“You should have told me.”
I shrugged, because what was I supposed to have told her? That I had a crush on my best guy friend since kindergarten, but he was going out with Headband Kelli? Or that Chuck gave me a pack of gum, and it felt like a present. And a secret. A secret present.
I hadn’t told anyone. Not even Maybelle!
Some things are so private, I can only tell you.
What I did say was, “Pip, I have secrets too.”
“I’m sorry, Ava, I didn’t know,” she said softly.
I nodded and finally said, “It’s all right.” I liked that lately Pip has been acting more like a big sister. “But don’t take any more pieces!”
“Of course not!”
“Pinkie promise?”
“Pinkie promise,” she said, and we hooked pinkies. And now I’m going to sleep because I’m tired as can be.
AVA, A TO ZZZZ
2/23
IN HOMEROOM
DEAR DIARY,
I asked Dad if I could stay home from school instead of going to the emergency assembly. He said no but offered to sit in the back if I wanted. I was about to say sure, but then I pictured Rorie and Lacey and Valeria and Jayda and Mackie making fun of me for having my “daddy” there to protect me. So I said, “It’s okay.” The words came out funny, because each one had to get around the lump in my throat. And because it was not okay.
Pip and I walked to school, and on the way, I asked if she knew who Kelli was. She said, “The pretty blond girl who’s kind of full of herself?”
“Yes,” I said. But then I thought: Aren’t we all full of ourselves? Who else could we be full of?
AVA, TRYING TO HAVE PERSPECTIVE
PS Then again, I still don’t get why Chuck even likes her. Does he truly like-like her? Why did she ever have to move to Misty Oaks anyway?
2/23
IN THE LIBRARY AFTER LUNCH BUT BEFORE THE ASSEMBLY
DEAR DIARY,
It feels like everyone keeps looking at me. I think everyone heard that a group of older kids ganged up on a fifth grader and “defaced her property.” But I think everyone also heard that the kid was an insensitive smarty-pants know-it-all who was so full of herself that she’d probably tell Santa to go on a diet. And I think everyone knows exactly who’s who and thinks it’s my fault the P-E-P rally got postponed. Which I guess it is.
Still, here’s why it doesn’t really feel fair:
1. I would never tell Santa to go on a diet.
2. I’m not insensitive. If anything, I’m too sensitive.
3. If Tanya hadn’t asked for tips, I would never have come up with the list.
All I mean is, well, I’m not a mean person; I’m a well-meaning person.
Since you’re my diary, I will admit two things. Number one, I guess I’d been hoping that people would like our tips and Bea and I might even get a little recognition. (Is that a crime?) And number two, I did say something mean out loud today at lunch. I told Zara that I thought Kelli’s rainbow headband was stupid-looking. I couldn’t help it. It just popped out.
Instead of agreeing, Zara said, “But, Ava, why do you care so much? Maham wears colorful hijabs, and I bet you don’t think twice about it.” I looked at Maham, and it was true: today the hijab covering her head and neck is peacock blue, and other days she wears other colors, and I barely notice. (I used to, back when she first came to school.) And believe me, I realize that a head scarf has nothing to with a headband. But I could see Zara’s point.
Then again, what did Zara expect me to say? “I care about Kelli because I care about Chuck, and Chuck and Kelli care about each other.” Not a chance! And anyway, Zara may have halfway figured this all out.
The other reason why I’ve been obsessing extra is that I saw this on Kelli’s notebook:
C
H
U
C
K E L L I
Maybe I’m a K-O-O-K, but I don’t like that Chuck and Kelli have the letter K in common. He and I don
’t have any letters in common. Let alone limbo. Or sports.
AVA, MISUNDERSTOOD
2/23
3:30 P.M.
DEAR DIARY,
Usually when we sit down for an assembly, all you hear is everyone talking. Well, today, while we were finding our seats, Mr. Ramirez put on a catchy song called “Respect.” When he turned it off, he told us that the singer was Aretha Franklin and asked us to spell out the word. So we did: “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.”
“I can’t hear you,” he said, which was funny because as a librarian, he’s usually shushing us.
“R.E.S.P.E.C.T.,” we repeated.
“And what’s that spell?”
“Respect!” we shouted.
“I can’t hear you!” he said.
“RESPECT!” we shouted even more loudly.
“I still can’t hear you!” he said, cupping his ear.
“RESPECT!” we yelled at the top of our lungs.
“That’s right. And from now on, I want you to be more respectful of your classmates, yourselves, and other people’s work. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Is it?”
“YES!”
No one snickered, and by now Mr. Ramirez sounded so serious, it made me wonder if he had ever been disrespected.
Next Principal Gupta stepped up and introduced the two speakers.
The first was a therapist in a suit and bow tie. He talked about bullying and bystanders and boundaries, but he was boring. Also, one of his pants’ legs was twisted into his sock, which was distracting.
The second was a young nurse practitioner whose advice was more practical and who had lots of twisty braids wrapped around her head.
“Your parents used to take care of you,” she began. “Now you’re learning to take care of yourselves.” She said that chips and cookies have “empty” or “useless” calories, and we should eat real food and read labels and buy products with ingredients our “grandparents would recognize.” She said little treats are fine, but if you get in the habit of “double desserts” and “emotional eating,” you’ll “jeopardize” your “long-term health” because obesity is linked to diabetes and heart and liver troubles.