Diary Three

by Ann M. Martin

  I asked who wanted ice cream.

  Everyone shouted ME!

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Maggie,” Tyler said again as he followed me into the kitchen. “It was either this or not come at all. And I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  “Good,” I said in a sort of friendly tone. “I’m glad you could come.”

  I opened the freezer and pulled out two boxes of ice-cream bars. He took them from me.

  “I e-mailed my best friend in Santa Claus and told him about you,” he said.

  He was looking straight into my eyes. My anger and insecurity started to melt. I felt the warm current between us starting up again.

  “I feel sorry for you, Tyler,” I said. “It seems like you’re working all the time.”

  “But being with you makes that okay. I’m happier with you than I am with anyone else.”

  That line was like a slap in the face.

  I pulled back.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “That’s a line right out of the script,” I said. “J.B. says it to Vivian in the library.”

  “Oops.” Tyler blushed. “That happens when I’m working on a film,” he admitted. “I have to say lines so many times that they—”

  “—come out too easily,” I said.

  “I was going to say that they become part of my subconscious.”

  I pointed to the boxes of ice cream bars and said that we should bring them to the others before they melted.

  Half an hour later Tyler’s limo came by to pick him up.

  “Anyone want a ride?” he asked.

  My friends all jumped at the chance to ride in the limo with him.

  “You come too,” Tyler suggested to me. “I’ll drop you back here after we bring the others home.”

  “Come on, Maggie,” begged Sunny.

  “No, thanks,” I said.

  So my friends all left the party at once. And I’m alone in my room—wondering why I fell for Tyler when I knew better.

  I wasted so much time thinking about him, hanging out at the set, getting Vanish involved…

  Maybe I should have tried to work things out with Justin.

  It’s too late now. He has Nancy.

  They’re probably out having a great non-Hollywood time tonight. No one is following them around with cameras, asking them questions, and writing about them in gossip columns.

  Starting tomorrow I’m concentrating on my own life.

  A real life.

  Without a script.

  I’m going to forget Tyler Kendall ONCE AND FOR ALL.

  Sunday 5/23

  Two dozen roses arrived this morning. With this note:

  For Maggie: Thanks for the party. Wish I hadn’t missed the first part. Your friends are great. I have today off. Want to go to the beach? Call. Tyler

  Sending expensive flowers after a party is such a Hollywood thing to do.

  They’re yellow roses. Yellow roses mean “I’m sorry.”

  I wonder if Tyler knows that?

  He probably doesn’t even know what color they are. Or even that they’re roses. He probably told his assistant to send the producer’s daughter a bunch of flowers.

  I left a message on Tyler’s voice mail. I said thanks for the flowers, and that I can’t see him today because I’m working at the shelter. I didn’t say anything about seeing him soon or that he should call back.

  He’s off the hook with the producer’s daughter.

  10:00 P.M.

  Arrived at the shelter at noon.

  My first job was to clean out the cat kennels. Piper said I seemed a little sad. She’s super-sensitive and picks up silent signals from animals and people. Especially me. But she also respects my privacy. So all she said was, “If you want to talk about anything, I’m here. And if you don’t, I’m here too.”

  I told her I’d be okay.

  My next job was to take the two puppies out to play behind the shelter. The puppies are adorable. I hope they will be adopted together.

  I was playing a game of chase with them when I saw someone running across the field toward me. Tyler.

  He was breathless by the time he reached me. The puppies jumped on his legs. He bent over and picked one up in each arm.

  The first thing he said was, “Look at these cute guys.”

  The puppy with brown spots licked his face. The black one nibbled on his jacket sleeve. Tyler laughed.

  I couldn’t help smiling. Tyler looked so happy with that armful of puppies. “Where’d they come from?” he asked.

  I told him they’d been left at the door of the shelter in a cardboard box. “Where’d you come from?” I asked. “How’d you find me?”

  “You told me about this place the first time we went out,” he said. “I remembered the name.” He nodded to the black puppy. “This one reminds me of my dog, Coffee, when he was little. How many dogs do they have here?”

  I told him that at the moment we had thirteen dogs and at least twenty-five cats.

  “Do you like dogs better than cats?” he asked. “Or the other way around?”

  “I know that a lot of people consider themselves either a cat person or a dog person. But I like both equally. I’m a both person.”

  “Me too,” Tyler agreed. “We have loads of cats on the farm. And Coffee and a border collie who helps with the sheep.” His smile faded. “I miss the farm.”

  “That must be hard,” I said.

  The black puppy snuggled deep into Tyler’s arms and closed his eyes. The other puppy was now lying across my feet.

  It was very peaceful in that sunny field with Tyler and the puppies.

  “What’s greatest about animals is that they don’t care who you are,” Tyler said. “If you take care of them and love them, they’ll love you back. I wish people could be more like that.”

  I knew that what Tyler said wasn’t from any script. It was from his heart.

  I thought about how angry at him I’d been. I knew I’d been unfair. I’d judged him by his fame, not for himself.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything.”

  He inched closer. “Me too. Sometimes I wish I’d never come to Hollywood.” He paused and looked deeply into my eyes. “But then I wouldn’t have met you.”

  That’s when he kissed me. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  During the kiss the puppy in Tyler’s arms licked the bottom of our chins. I giggled.

  He put the puppy back on the ground and told him to find his own girlfriend. Then he put his arms around me and we kissed again.

  Tyler helped me with the rest of my chores. I was impressed by how much he knows about animals.

  “I want to be a veterinarian someday,” he told me when we were feeding the cats.

  “What about acting?”

  “I’ll do it for awhile longer, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

  I told him that it was my dream to be a veterinarian too. But that other times I want to be a writer.

  “You should be a singer too,” he said. “You’re a terrific singer.”

  I thanked him and said he was a terrific actor and maybe he shouldn’t give it up so fast.

  We said it would be great if we could do all the things we cared about.

  It was interesting to talk to Tyler like that.

  I’ve decided that Tyler Kendall is a great guy to know. It’s not his fault that he’s so famous.

  I’ll just have to learn to deal with it.

  THE PUPPY

  Yapping, jumping, loving, licking.

  A puppy in your arms.

  I was going to give you up,

  But you held me close like that pup.

  Understanding, forgiving, loving, true.

  A puppy in your arms.

  I was there too.

  Amalia: Diary Three

  California Diaries

  Ann M. Martin

  Contents

  Tuesday 5/25

 
; Wednesday 5/26

  Thursday 5/27

  Friday 5/28

  Saturday 5/29

  Monday 5/31

  Tuesday 6/1

  Wednesday 6/2

  Thursday 6/3

  Friday 6/4

  Saturday 6/5

  Sunday 6/6

  Monday 6/7

  Tuesday 6/8

  Wednesday 6/9

  Tuesday 6/10

  Sunday 6/13

  Monday 6/14

  Tuesday 6/15

  Wednesday 6/16

  Tuesday 6/17

  Friday 6/18

  Saturday 6/19

  Tuesday, 5/25

  I knew it, Nbook.

  Did I predict it or what?

  When Maggie tells me about meeting Tyler Kendall and informs me that she HATES him, do I believe her?

  No way.

  Fact: For Maggie, “I hate Tyler” means “I hate Hollywood” means “I hate the fact that Dad is Hayden Blume the famous producer who works seven days a week and never comes home until midnight.”

  Fact: Tyler’s OK. Fact: He likes her. Fact: He doesn’t give up so easily.

  So now she’s singing a different tune.

  It’s good to see Maggie so happy.

  And not just because of Tyler.

  She’s kicking the anorexia. I can tell.

  I predicted that too. And I was right.

  Wednesday, 5/26

  As for me? Thanks for asking, Nbook.

  Haven’t felt better.

  It’s a little scary.

  Sunny is an inspiration, Nbook.

  Her mom’s death hit her hard. But she’s pulling herself together. Somehow.

  I admire her.

  I admire all my friends.

  How did I get so lucky?

  Maggie’s here. Time to go.

  Thursday, 5/27

  Lunch

  Big news. Double date tomorrow night. Same as last time. Me and Brendan, Maggie and Tyler (I guess “double date” isn’t the right term. Tyler and Maggie are the Real Thing, boyfriend-girlfriend. Way ahead of us. Call it a date and a half. Whatever.)

  I just hope people don’t drool all over him again. (Tyler, that is. Not Brendan. He’s not the movie star—although he could be. But that’s another conversation.)

  Sorry about the chocolate shake stain. (Guess I shouldn’t open you during lunch.)

  Don’t you love parenthesises parentheses? (Yes.)

  4:47

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Why do I bother telling Isabel about my personal life?

  Why do I let her see me happy?

  Here’s what happens.

  Must be tough to be perfect.

  7:35

  Maggie comes over just before dinner tonight. Last-minute thing. Says Zeke is at a friend’s, her dad’s at work (as usual), and her mom’s “out.”

  She’s not feeling too great. Says she feels tense all the time.

  As we’re talking, I hear Simon Big Tooth Lover Boy’s old car pull up. Then I hear him downstairs in the kitchen with Isabel.

  And she’s explaining her homework to him.

  Yes, that homework. Which she does early because she’s so responsible….

  What a phony.

  Friday, 5/28

  Study hall

  Flash: Brendan has a new shirt and shoes. (Yes, Nbook, the Boy Who Hates to Shop. The boy who claims his faded amber Grateful Dead T-shirt is actually white. Translation: It was white when his dad wore it in 1983.)

  Well, the clothes are a pleasant surprise. So is the haircut.

  When I notice the cuts on his cheek, though, I become suspicious. I ask who scratched him, and he says, “I shaved.”

  “Shaved what?” I ask.

  He does not see the humor.

  Guess I have to look at this from his point of view. I mean, if I were a guy soon to be on a double date and the other guy on that date was Tyler Kendall, wouldn’t I be nervous about my appearance?

  I tell him not to worry. He doesn’t have to be a hunk. I like him just the way he is.

  He says, “I’m not a hunk?”

  I pretend to think about it.

  He still doesn’t see the humor.

  Poor soul.

  Late late late late so-o-o-o late

  I’m back. I’m alive. I’m awake.

  How was my night?

  I might as well have been in outer space.

  That’s what it felt like. A trip to Pluto.

  NOTE TO SELF: Learn from experience. Bring rugged clothes to next experience with Maggie and Tyler. Maybe a sword and shield.

  Here’s us walking toward the restaurant:

  Here’s us when we get into the restaurant:

  The meal? The view?

  No meal. No view. This time Tyler doesn’t just stand there, smiling and chatting, while we suffer. Instead, he politely signs a few autographs, excuses himself, and heads back out, pulling us with him. (Got to give him credit. He must have listened to Maggie’s advice after last time.)

  Anyway, we leave the restaurant and sneak into a 9:00 showing at the Rubicon Theater. The cuisine is popcorn and Snickers.

  No one else is in the theater. The air-conditioning is way too high.

  And the movie is in Russian, so you have to read subtitles.

  Maggie insists it is a great classic.

  Me, I don’t understand a thing.

  Brendan hates it. He says I owe him one.

  I’ll make it up to him. Next time, we go to the cineplex to see a good, stupid American comedy.

  Saturday, 5/29

  I’m dreaming. Brendan and I are still at the Rubicon, only somehow we’ve stepped into the movie. We’re stranded on the frozen tundra in our shorts and sandals. We’re clutching each other tight, trying to keep warm—and we can see the audience staring, so we scream for help, but the words come out in Russian and everyone is laughing at us…

  And I hear:

  I jump out of bed, thinking the tundra has been bombed.

  The reality: Isabel is clomping through my room, looking for something.

  “What’s up?” I say.

  “Good morning to you too,” she snaps. (Like, how dare I be rude to her?) Then her voice drops to a whisper: “Where’s that rental car information?”

  “What rental car?”

  “Sssssshh, Mami and Papi will hear you. You know, the car for Hector and Cristina. Did you reserve one?”

  “How could I do that? I’m thirteen—”

  “With Hector and Cristina’s credit card number, like I told you to—”

  “You never—”

  “Oh. I know, you’re busy dating and hanging out with stars and preparing to flunk your finals. Guess they’ll just have to walk the fifty-seven miles from the airport.”

  She leaves the room without even closing my door. I nearly throw my alarm clock at her.

  Nbook, she never asked me to do this. (At least I don’t think she did.) Besides, why can’t Hector and Cristina rent the car themselves?

  And what’s that crack about flunking my finals? I know the material (mostly).

  (Well, some, anyway.)

  (I can study for the rest.)

  (I better.)

  11:23

  I just looked at the math.

  Remind me never, ever, ever to open up a math book on a Saturday.

  What language is this stuff?

  12:47

  Maggie calls. She apologizes about last night.

  She hated the movie too. She was pretending to like it because she figured Tyler did. Turns out he slept through most of it.

  I’m barely hearing her. I’m freaking about the finals. Especially math.

  Finally I admit this to her.

  She ignores me. Says she’s spending the day with Tyler on the set. They’re shooting extra footage for his latest movie—which was supposed to be finished, but they need some match prints (whatever they are). Anyway, they’re going to have lunch at the food trailer.

&nbs
p; “I’m going to flunk math,” I persist.

  She replies, “We’ll swing by and pick you up.”

  “We’ll?”

  “Tyler and me. In the limo. Bring your math. I can help. We’ll have plenty of time. You and I will just be sitting around and eating while they shoot.”

  Now we’re talking.

  I feel relieved.

  And then I think—is this Maggie talking about (a) actually going on a movie set willingly and (b) eating?

  I was right, Nbook. She’s turning the corner.

  Progress, progress, progress.

  I just hope she holds on…

  6:02 P.M.

  Honestly, I think he reads my mind.

  Just as Maggie’s limo pulls up this afternoon, Brendan calls. When he finds out where I’m going, he practically begs to come along.

  I make him promise not to get in the way of my remedial math. He says he’ll help Maggie help me.

  So Maggie, Tyler, and I swing by his house to pick him up. Here’s what we see:

  His whole family’s lined up outside the house, along with neighbors and their pets. To see the Star, of course. Brendan is so embarrassed. He apologizes like crazy.

  Tyler’s cool. He just waves back. “You get used to it,” he says.

  We have a laugh about last night. Then the boys start yakking away about baseball and cars and stuff. (This is how guys get to know each other, Nbook. It’s not who you are or how you feel, but how many statistics you know.) Anyway, just as I’m about to fall asleep from boredom, Tyler asks Brendan what he’s doing for the summer.

  And Brendan says he’s going to camp.

  For seven weeks.

  In western Massachusetts.

  Yes, you heard me right.

  I believe it’s somewhere around here.