Dear Dumb Dairy #1: Let's Pretend This Never Happened (Dear Dumb Diary)
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World.
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Friday 27
Dear Dumb Diary,
Angeline sat down across from Isabella and
me at lunch today. I was eating a ham-and-cheese
sandwich that I had packed for lunch but we were
all out of cheese, and I had felt guilty about how I
had treated Stinker so I had given him the last slice
of ham as a truce. I guess you would call it a
mustard sandwich if I had remembered to put
mustard on it.
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(By the way, Stinker and I are pals again. I
guess he figured that eating my homework had
made us even for the last couple of weeks. Thinking
back, I suppose that WAS fair.)
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Okay, back to Angeline (remember
Angeline? ). Incredibly, between bites of bread, I
actually said this to Angeline: “Thanks for saving
my life on the report yesterday.” I didn’t actually
intend to be polite. I’ve been brainwashed by my
parents to be polite against my will sometimes.
Then she smiled at me. And it wasn’t totally
an Aren’t-I-Great-with-My-Perfect-Teeth-and-
Gums-Smile. It was a regular smile. And she said,
“We should do something sometime. A movie or
something. Maybe you can teach me how to do that
thing you do with your hair,” she said, pointing at
my head. “I can never get my hair to do anything
cool.”
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And the very next thing I knew, Dumb Diary,
Miss Bruntford, the Cafeteria Monitor had me in a
Heimlich position and was trying to disgorge a
bread chunk that I had accidentally inhaled when
Angeline had complimented my hair. After a couple
squeezes, up it came, and I saw Mike Pinsetti
standing there, grinning. It was obvious that he had
crafted some excellent nickname for me that he
was about to unveil, and everybody was waiting to
hear what it was going to be, when Angeline
grabbed him by the collar and said, “Just don’t,
PIN- HEADY.”
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PIN- HEADY. It was a masterpiece of
nicknaming. It rhymed with his real name, it was
insulting, and everybody in the cafeteria was
standing there to hear it used for the first time.
Even though he was utterly shattered, you could see
a reluctant respect on Mike’s face.
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Angeline, who no one even knew had any
cruelty within her at all, had shown the meanness
that Isabella and I had always known was there.
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Sure, she had only been cruel to Pin-heady
(look how I am already forgetting his real name )
and, yes, she kind of saved my neck again by not
letting him get off a nickname for me, but c’mon,
at least the world now knew that she’s not this total
perfect angel.
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I know what you’re thinking, Dumb Diary:
Use the old one- two punch. I have her permanent
record to share with the World. I can fix her once
and for all.
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Except that I don’t have it anymore.
Yesterday I had decided not to read Angeline’s
permanent record. I just slipped out of the nurse’s
office and into the principal’s office and put it back
in the file cabinet.
Besides, I thought, this is Angeline, how bad
could it have REALLY been?
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Isabella’s lips cleared up a couple hours after
lunch. It was like a miracle. They turned from what
looked like sad little splintered slivers of beef jerky
into what looks like full, ripe luscious crescents of
papaya.
It was the meat loaf. The mysterious meat it’s
made from had some sort of incredible healing
power on Isabella’s lips. And it’s her new signature
flavor. She stuffed a wad of it into an old lip -balm
tube. I know. It’s awful. But it smells better than
ChocoMint.
But that was only the second. weirdest thing
that the Universe did today.
Later on, after school, Angeline walked right
up to me.
“I forgot to say thanks ,” she said.
“For what?” I said.
“For taking the blame for my meat loafing of
the monitor.”
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And then, when she said that, IT
happened. I felt the entire Universe groan and
creak and shift slightly, and the next thing I knew,
her terrible Angeline powers were starting to work
on me. I felt as though I might be starting to LIKE
ANGELINE AGAINST MY WILL.
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I told Angeline it was no big deal. I had
always wanted to do that myself.
“No, no. It was a big deal,” she said. “You
have no idea how much trouble I would have gotten
in. If you could see what my permanent record looks
like, you’d know. One more incident, and I’d be out
of here and you’d have Hudson all to yourself, and I
am NOT going to let that happen.” Then she smiled
and walked away.
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I stood there for a while, Dumb Diary, sort of
like a black- eyed beagle who has just seen all of his
most precious sticks and trash thrown out by
someone who has mistaken him for someone he is
not. I was frozen in my spot by feelings of affection
and hatred all glopped together like one of Mom’s
inedible Food-Crimes.
Maybe people are like meat loaf: Strong
medicine, but also deadly poison.
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I wondered, as Mike Pinsetti walked by me
without making eye contact, if I could find the
wisdom that Stinker had found and could exact the
precise amount of justice called for here, which was
to simply eat Angeline’s homework sometime, and
then call it even.
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Thanks for listening, Dumb Diary.
Dear Dumb Diary,
Anyway, Isabella said it wasn’t the makeover that
boosted Margaret’s popularity and forced us down.
It was the pants. She said it wasn’t my loud
“yahoo” in science that got me switched again so that
I’m science partners with Known Goon, Mike Pinsetti.
It was the pants. And she said it wasn’t me
that had done you-know-what all over Hudson Rivers.
It was the pants!
Think you can handle another
Jamie Kelly diary? Then check out:
www.scholastic.com/deardumbdiary
scholastic.com/deardumbdiary
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About Jim Benton
Jim Benton is not a middle-school girl, but do
not hold that against him. He has managed to
make a living out of being funny, anyway.
He is the creator of many licensed properties,
some for big kids, some for little kids, and some
for grown-ups who, frankly, are probably behaving
like little kids.
You may already know his properties: It’s
Happy Bunny™ or Catwad™, and of course you
> already know about Dear Dumb Diary.
He’s created a kids’ TV series, designed
clothing, and written books.
Jim Benton lives in Michigan with his spectac-
ular wife and kids. They do not have a dog, and
they especially do not have a vengeful beagle.
This is his first series for Scholastic.
Jamie Kelly has no idea that Jim Benton, or
you, or anybody is reading her diaries. So, please,
please, please don’t tell her.