My Life in Smiley (Book 1 in Smiley series)

by Anne Kalicky

  I ran into the bathroom and saw in the mirror that, on my pimple and all around it, I had a HUGE dark orange mark. In fact, it was far worse than this morning! I searched in my mom’s bag to find the tube of cover-up, and this time I actually read what was written on

  it. . . .

  Saturday

  Today was Lisa’s ninth birthday. She invited six friends over, and my parents hadn’t prepared ANYTHING! I think they totally forgot. Parents are so weird, always coming unglued over nothing. In this case, it was two hours before the party, and my parents were arguing because they couldn’t find a plastic tablecloth. They have a whole box of them in the basement. . . . And so they STILL weren’t getting anything done.

  Thankfully, I saw that they were completely out of it and took matters into my own hands—

  I didn’t have much else to do anyhow. I must admit—I’m quite good in desperate situations. I saw there were still several expired yogurts in the fridge to make a cake with, there was banana-guava-pomegranate juice that NO ONE wanted, and there was a lot of candy that Lisa had gotten from her friends’ birthday parties.

  I first gathered everyone up, and then I suggested to my parents that we go to the fast-food place on the corner and steal balloons. (Stealing free balloons, that works!)

  Between the five of us, we got ten balloons. Even Marion told me I saved the day.

  As for presents, I came to the rescue on that too. Lisa loves pretending to have serious injuries. She dreams of one day breaking an arm or a leg. In her free time, she empties boxes of bandages and puts them on together to “make a cast.” The other day when I was at the pharmacy with my mom, I spotted a big display of walking canes for the elderly. I went back to the store without telling anyone and bought one. Dear future human, you have to admit that this time I proved my TREMENDOUS generosity. I spent most of my pocket money on it, but the idea was so wonderful I couldn’t resist. Afterward, I even thought that this gift could be useful for Grandpa Joff or Grandma Ragny one day too.

  When Lisa unwrapped her gift, she squealed: “Cool! A cane! Awesome!” My parents stared at me in amazement. They were so proud of me and my brilliant find! All of her friends were jealous, and they kept arguing over who was going to try the cane first. That gave me another idea—yes, I know my imagination is boundless —and I organized a big cane race. In the end, the girls didn’t want to leave—they were clinging to me and yelling my name. Future human, my first fan club was born!

  This day is one for the record books. . . . There’s no doubt about it; success is addicting. I think I was born to be famous!

  Wednesday

  Dear future human,

  I have to tell you some totally awesome news! (Obviously, I’m on a lucky streak right now.) Tom’s mom called tonight to ask if I wanted to go skiing with them during our next break. Remember? Around Christmas, the neighbor, Mr. Lupus, had given me a scratch-off ticket to win a trip to a ski resort. Then, after the incident with Rocky (Miss Roudan’s dog) that almost ended in tragedy, I gave the ticket to Tom. And the parents of that old slug won the trip! I was a little jealous at the time, but everything worked out after all since the trip is for four and Tom is an only child—so I get to go with them! I am SUPER happy: I’ve never skied before, and now I can get out of another trip to Brittany, which has started to become deadly boring lately!

  Monday

  Dear future

  human,

  This morning in computer class, Mrs. Boulauche organized a “videoconference” with our English pen pals . . . so that we could “introduce ourselves.” To be honest, no one really wanted to stare right into the teacher’s webcam. And she was livid that everyone was pushing and shoving each other, trying not to be in front. No one was getting into the camera view, and Damien Chico was putting up bunny ears behind Lucas. It was at that exact moment Mr. Schmitt came in to bring a little order to the class, making us do his lame routine:

  . . . Even though it was the middle of the afternoon. We calmed down, and suddenly the English class appeared on the screen. The kids seemed nice but a little nervous.

  We all lined up one after another to say, “Hello! My name is Max. Nice to meet you.” The only issue was that Titouan had a cold: “Hello! By dame is Didouan. Nice to beet diou.” Which sounded like he said, “Nice to beat you.” When the video call was over and Mr. Schmitt left, Mrs. Boulauche showed us pictures of the English middle school. Then she projected photos of the students on the wall, along with each one’s name.

  Obviously, despite the teacher’s disapproval, we all were laughing and whistling at Penny’s irresistible beauty, Michael’s ENORMOUS nerd glasses, and Brian’s florescent-yellow, glow-in-the-dark shirt he was wearing in his picture. But the worst was when this boy named Conrad appeared.

  It’s weird—I didn’t remember him from the video meeting. The entire class started laughing—even me—and I crossed my fingers that Conrad would be Raoul’s pen pal. Since I was having such a streak of good luck, anything was possible. Then Mrs. Boulauche pulled up a chart that matched our photos with those of our future pen pals. This all-knowing graphic was going to tell us which student we would be paired with. . . .

  I even saw Célia and Naïs burst out laughing. Double noooooo! Why did I get Conrad? But worst of all: Raoul didn’t get a BOY pen pal; he got a GIRL pen pal! This was so unfair! And it just gave him another reason to show off.

  Saturday

  Sunday

  What if Conrad smells bad, or he’s only interested in science or quadratic equations, or he plays the flute—or worse—he’s a psychopath or a serial killer? I don’t feel so good. I looked at photos of ex-convicts on my dad’s computer, and Ifeel like Conrad has the exact same face. And what if something happens to me while I’m asleep? And Conrad runs away in the middle of the night? No one would ever know what happened to me. Just to be safe, I made a sketch of him for police reference.

  At home, my mom could tell something was wrong. Last night, she came to my room to find out what was up. I explained everything to her. She told me not to worry, that we shouldn’t “judge a book by its cover,” and that Conrad was undoubtedly very nice. To cheer me up, she also said that she’d “maybe” take me to AllSports to buy me a ski suit. So I laid it on thick, and then we went there later.

  I came out of there with a sweet ski outfit with a photo of Pietro on the front pocket. Awesome! If I hadn’t had this issue with the pen pal, I would’ve had to wear Marion or Lisa’s old ski suit. . . .

  On the other hand, my mom told me to put the fur lining back on the hood of my winter coat in order to stay warm on the ski slopes. I didn’t have the courage to tell her it bit the dust during fall break at Grandpa Joff and Grandma Ragny’s.

  Monday

  Dear future human,

  During computer class we’re exchanging emails with the English kids so we can get to know them a bit better before they arrive in April. Mrs. Boulauche asked us to introduce ourselves, talk about our family, and share our “hobbies” . . . or at least our interests.

  Conrad is thirteen years old, and he also has a sister that he “haaaaaates!” I told him how to say that in French. At least we have one thing in common.

  At the end of class last week, Mrs. Boulauche had also asked us to prepare a presentation on a monument in Paris, using text and photos. I chose the big Ferris wheel at the Place de la Concorde, because I’d gone there with my parents for Marion’s twelfth birthday. Well, actually, at the last minute Lisa was scared and began screaming. Since she couldn’t stay at the bottom alone because she was too young, and since it was “Miss Annoyyyyying’s” birthday, Marion made me stay and watch Lisa. So, technically, I didn’t really ride the big Ferris wheel, but I was officially there.


  That idiot Raoul stole a college thesis on the Eiffel Tower off the Internet and shot it to Alison, his pen pal. He wanted to act all smart, but the document ended up with Mr. Smith, our pen pals’ French teacher, who sent a few words to Mrs. Boulauche.

  Raoul was called to the principal’s office, and they threw the book at him.

  Anyway, there’s only a few days left until break, and I’m going to the mountains with Tom. I am SO psyched to leave this gang of losers and forget about this whole pen pal thing for a little bit. I need some fresh air!

  On my way home, I passed by the secret passage and saw that there was something new written on the wall:

  I’d heard this expression before, because Marion and my mom use it to refer to “that time of the month.” It was still really odd! Neither Mom nor Marion could be behind all this graffiti. . . .

  Sunday

  Dear future human, I decided to leave my notebook at home. It was TOO risky! Imagine if Tom had found it during our trip. . . . He would have found my thrilling, visionary stories and stolen my ideas! That wimp would’ve double-crossed me, which would’ve ruined my chances of becoming the super-magnificent witness of my time.

  The vacation was awesome . . . except that there was practically no snow and I almost died several different times. We stayed at a little ski resort, which was at an elevation too low to have enough snow. So, instead, Tom’s parents made us go on a lot of hikes.

  It was cool, but the ground was covered in black ice, so we had to take little steps to avoid falling flat on our faces every three hundred feet. Let’s just say it was fun for about the first ten minutes, but then it always went on for two hours. . . . We also went to a skating rink. I’d never been ice-skating in my life, and neither had Tom. We hung on to the side and moved around in circles like ants, laughing the whole time. We pretended we were walking on ice like the living dead in Zombieland 2.

  Except at one point I started to think I was finally getting the hang of it. I told Tom that I was going to attempt a triple axel. I knew exactly what to do, because I’d watched the figure-skating world championships at Grandpa Joff and Grandma Ragny’s house, but . . . I fell miserably and bruised my tailbone. So that meant Tom’s mom had to put ointment on my butt every night . . . so embarrassing! I made Tom promise to NEVER tell anyone about it, even if he was tortured.

  Other than that we ate raclette and fondue, blueberry pies, and some weird stuff like beef-tongue sausages and cow-udder cutlet. At night, we played Zombieland 2 and talked a lot about who could be writing on the wall of the secret passage. . . . Well, I guess it was mostly me talking, since I’m starting to think it’s suspicious. At first, we laughed about it, and I thought that it was just a coincidence, but, for some time now I’ve had the strange feeling that the wall KNOWS EVERYTHING—that it’s TALKING TO ME!

  I insisted we compare theories on who was doing the writing:

  We have to keep a close eye on everyone in our class, our school, and even the city. From now on, we won’t miss any clues.

  The last day of the ski vacation there was finally snow. Tom and I made a gigantic snowman, and his parents took us skiing. There was no way on earth I was getting past the bunny slope. It’s too bad, since being a naturally gifted skier would have certainly impressed Naïs. But to be honest I was just happy to be able to go back home and say I’d skied. Of course, it didn’t all go like I’d wanted it to. On the ski lift I dropped a pole. I saw it fall—a long way down —and it landed in a totally deserted non-skiable zone. Then I had to wait for Tom’s mom to find me another one. On top of that I had trouble holding on to the T-bar of the ski lift.

  Then, a fellow passenger made an announcement over the ski lift’s loudspeaker: “Who’s in charge of this boy currently keeping the other skiers from getting to the slope?” Total humiliation! The one time that I got it right, I was so happy that I neglected to see the little snow mound waiting for me at the end of the lift. I got my foot stuck in it when I was trying to get off and ended up turning myself into a ridiculous rolling snowball.

  The last night there, Tom’s parents took us out for dinner. We had sausages and French fries. Everyone had a great time, and afterward the hotel hosted a karaoke night. Dear future human, I swear the idea didn’t sound appealing, especially not when the host DJ called my name to have me come up and sing. That scoundrel Tom sold me out! At first, I didn’t want to go up there, but Tom really wanted to join me—so we sang “Hope and Life.” It was the only song we could think of! I didn’t expect it, but everyone applauded wildly. In short, we had a great night: it was fun to be together as a family and to get to know Tom’s parents better. I also realized I missed my family too. So before leaving this morning, I went and bought a few souvenirs for my parents and sisters.

  I bought wooden mushroom-shaped salt and pepper shakers (with “100% mountain pine guaranteed, made in China” written on them), a pencil holder in the shape of a snow boot for Lisa, and a cup with a deer on it for Marion.

  Tuesday

  Dear future human,

  Today is April 1, and do you know what that means in my day and age?

  And, believe me, today I woke up with an absolutely brilliant plan. At school, we have an old coin-operated telephone booth. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: a real antique! But guess what—these things are totally solid, and the one in our school is still ticking. One time I went to take all of the change that was stuck in the coin return . . . and there was a small fortune in there! I sent Tom a text.

  What’s cool about Tom is that he never really says no and he doesn’t ask too many questions. I found him in the secret passage and explained my plan: during recess, we were going to make prank calls to people on the payphone.

  In the morning when the bell rang, Tom and I ran to the old phone booth, which was hidden in a little courtyard where no one ever goes. We picked up the phone, put in the coins, and dialed a random number. This guy answered, “Hello?” and with a very confident and adult voice I said:

  —“Hello, Sir, are you familiar with the game show The Price Is Right ?”

  Jackpot! He watched it every day! I immediately went into game-show mode. Tom whispered responses to me:

  —“What a wonderful coincidence! We’re going to be taping several shows in your area, and you were selected at random to play with us and possibly win a multifunction kitchen mixer. Are you ready?”

  The guy was totally ready.

  —“Do you know the exact price for a Hershey’s chocolate bar?”

  The guy was deep in thought. I encouraged him:

  —“Go on, Sir, venture a guess?”

  Tom and I were dying laughing. The guy was convinced he was going to win something.

  —“Uhhh . . . 3.90€?” the guy said.

  —“Bingo! The price is right! You are the proud winner of a superb kitchen mixer. So, what will you cook with your new appliance?”

  I must have ad-libbed a bit too much, and the guy started stuttering in the receiver. It was time to hang up.

  —“Dear Sir, please hold, and our receptionist will take your address in order to send your gift. Congratulations from everyone aaaat . . . The Price Is Riiiiiiiiiiiight!”

  I hung up! Tom and I were doubled over laughing.

  Then he wanted to make the next call. I think my comedic talents and powers of persuasion impressed him. We emptied our pockets and put the coins in the payphone. Tom dialed. A lady answered and bam! We told her to pack her bags, because she’d won a trip to a tropical paradise! Then the bell rang, and we hung up fast and returned to class.

  After that, things went downhill.

  The principal showed up right in the middle of Mrs. Grumot’s chemistry class. He looked furious.


  Apparently, the payphone hadn’t stopped ringing for the last two hours. The secretary in the office ended up answering, and she found a lady on the other end. The lady was so insistent that the secretary had to call the principal to explain to the woman that she’d dialed the wrong number, that this was a middle school, and that his “establishment” had absolutely nothing to do with VACATION packages. Apparently, the lady was really, really disappointed, and she started crying into the phone. She’d announced the good news to her husband and the entire family, because it’d been over ten years since they’d gone on a vacation more than thirty miles from their house.

  All of a sudden, I felt completely guilty. It was just a silly idea, and I didn’t think it would have such dramatic consequences for this family. In the back of my head, I heard a voice whisper that we needed to find a way to fix our mistake. I shot a look at Tom, who pretended not to see me.