Dad gave me a Hanukkah present. He drove over to the ATM and takes out 5 twenties. He hands them to me and goes, “Here’s a Hanukkah present so you can buy a suit.”
When he did that, I thought about the latkes we used to make. Before the Divorce. How we’d all cook latkes together the first night of Hanukkah. Dad would come home from work early and he’d wear that dorky apron Amanda made him in 7th grade. We’d use a huge bag of potatoes and some onions and take turns grating and frying, and everyone would pig out. It was just our family.
Mom tried to do it with me and Amanda a couple years ago, but Amanda said she was on a diet, and I started a grease fire, and Mom ended up yelling at us.
Dad never asked why I needed a suit. I didn’t even mention the Snowball. Like he’d be interested. I sure didn’t tell him Mom already gave me money. Maybe I can buy some decent computer games now. Or I could use it to take Gina out again. Only 6 more days until the Snowball.
I don’t even care that Dad’s cutting back on the visits. Well, not much, I guess. Was Duke really saying Dad deserved a better son than me? Not that I deserved a better dad, right? I’ll never know now.
Wednesday, December 15
Haven’t seen Sydney at my locker since she asked me to the Snowball. I miss her in a weird way. In Spanish class she stares somewhere else every time I turn to look at her.
Nate wants to go to Romero’s on Saturday. It’s right down the block from school, so we could walk to the dance from there. He found these 2-for-1 coupons. He says girls always go to the can after dinner because they have bean-sized bladders (lima? kidney? green bean?) and have to redo their makeup after any kind of movement like eating. So Nate can just slip out the coupon while they’re in the john and they’ll never know. I don’t want Gina thinking I’m a cheapskate, but I bet we can pull it off. 3 more days until the Snowball.
Friday, December 17
I’m all set for the Snowball. I’m going to bed right after I write this entry, which will be short. I should be finished by 9:50, asleep by 10:00.
I sort of know how to dance now, I guess. Aunt Marsha says I’m a natural. She’s probably just trying to build up my self-esteem. I don’t think I totally suck. People won’t be pointing and laughing. Anyway, it’ll be dark in there.
Glad I got up the nerve to call Aunt Marsha and ask for help. I totally trust her. She swore she wouldn’t tell anyone what we were up to.
Aunt Marsha taught me some cool dance moves. And it gave us both something to do on Friday night. Beats my usual routine of watching MTV and eavesdropping on Amanda’s dates. Since June dumped her, I bet Aunt Marsha hasn’t done much either.
It’s now 9:48. I’m going to bed. I’ll be completely rested for tomorrow.
Saturday, December 18
It’s 12:09 and I’ve been lying awake for 2 hours and 19 minutes. What if Aunt Marsha taught me to dance like a lesbian? Maybe she goes to gay bars and the women have their own style and everyone at school will think I’m a lesbian. That doesn’t make sense. Guys can’t be lesbians. But what if she never goes dancing anymore and she taught me old dance steps that no one does now?
What if Hunk is at the dance and beats me up? Or what if Sydney’s there and starts crying when she sees me with Gina? What if Sydney beats me up? She’s pretty big, and she’s on the swim team. She could probably take me.
I have to go to sleep. This is nuts.
Saturday, December 18
It’s 1:32. My stomach is killing me. It’s like someone’s kneading dough in there. How old was that tofu-prune casserole Aunt Marsha gave me for dinner? That thing was barfulous. How can you tell if tofu goes bad? Maybe it’s the prunes. With my luck I’ll have the runs at the dance tonight.
Saturday, December 18
10 WORST THINGS ABOUT THE SNOWBALL IN HELL 1. My nonstop yawning.
2. The coupon ordeal.
3. Sydney Holland was there.
4. I didn’t see the boob-flashing thing.
5. Nate got pissed at me.
6. Nate’s mom morphed into Mike Wallace.
7. Amanda said, I told you so.
8. Gina.
9. Gina.
10. Gina.
ONLY GOOD THINGS ABOUT THE SNOWBALL 1. Nate’s mom didn’t smoke.
2. I didn’t get beat up.
3. Sydney Holland was there.
4. Nate saw the boob-flashing thing and provided details.
5. It’s over.
I can’t write any more tonight of what was supposed to be like the best experience of my pitiful life. I’m too mad to try to sort it out. I’d probably start yelling. Or call Gina and yell at her.
Tonight I really am going to sleep. I wish I could just keep sleeping until I’m out of high school.
Sunday, December 19
Since yesterday was my first date and the worst night of my life, I’m forcing myself to write about it. If I ever want to blow a ton of money on a girl again, I’ll look back at this entry and buy a bunch of computer games instead. In 20 years, when people ask why I never got married, I’ll let them read this and they’ll understand.
So here goes. The night started off fine. After Mom took a zillion pictures, she dropped me off at Nate’s and we told each other how hot we looked. I got to sit in back with the girls on the way there. Nate already called the backseat for the trip home. He figured Heather might make out with him by then.
First we got Heather. She looked sexy. No bra. Just her body and this little thin black dress with no straps or sleeves or anything to hold up her boobs. Not that she has much.
Then we got Gina. She looked beautiful. She wore these little butterflies in her hair, barrettes, I guess, and a powder-blue dress with a long slit up her leg. All night I got to see flashes of her leg through the slit when she moved the right way. She gave me a hug at her door and I had to remember the last 10 American presidents to keep Rex in line.
Nate’s mom didn’t say anything the whole way there, which made her the ideal driver. The disasters started after she dropped us off at Romero’s. All these people were waiting for a table. The hostess goes, “You have reservations?” Nate and I looked at each other. Nate whispers no, and she goes, “There’s an hour wait unless you want to eat at the bar.”
So my first dinner out with a girl, we sit on these high barstools where our feet can’t even reach the floor. Real mature. Right next to me, this older lady, like Mom’s age, was totally plastered. Her boyfriend or date or whatever he was kept asking her to go to his apartment, and she kept laughing at him like a mule and begging the bartender for one more drink. Sad.
Gina and I hardly talked to each other. It was too loud. The food was decent, but I kept thinking I could have bought tickets to a Chargers game for what our chicken parmesans cost.
I stressed the whole time because the girls didn’t go to the bathroom like Nate said they would, and we needed to give the waiter the coupon. Plus I didn’t know whether to order dessert or not. I didn’t want to look like a pig and be the only one eating, but I didn’t want to look like a cheapskate either.
It turned out that no one ordered dessert. The waiter gave us the check, but the girls didn’t make any kind of moves to go to the can. Finally, Nate just hid the coupon between our twenties and the bill.
The waiter picked out the coupon, held it up, and stared at it like it was a UFO. He got all attitudinal. He goes, “Present Coupon Upon Ordering. It says it right here. Now I have to recalculate the bill.”
I caught Heather and Gina shaking their heads at each other. I bet the Incredible Hunk never uses coupons on a date. Even with the discount, the dinner set me back $37.50.
So after all that, the girls decided to go to the bathroom right as we were leaving. When they left, Nate told me he could see right into Heather’s dress and he thought he even got a peek at her right nipple.
Oh, man, I typed all this and I didn’t even get to the dance yet. I’ll just say that we walked there and Nate held Heather’s hand the whole way. She had him hold he
r purse too. Wish I had a picture of that. With her other hand she kept pulling up the top of her dress. Gina held her purse with the hand closest to mine, like letting me know not to take her hand.
The dance itself sucked because of Gina. It started to suck right away. As soon as we got in line at the auditorium, with the security guards checking everyone for weapons and drugs, we saw Hunk. He stood 2 people ahead of us. He had his arm around this really tall skinny girl. Actually it rested on her butt. She looked old—18, maybe—definitely older than Gina. When she turned around, I saw she wasn’t that hot. Her face was too long, like that actress who played Phoebe on Friends.
Gina kept staring at them. It got to the point where Heather had to ask if she was okay. She nodded, but I knew right then that Amanda was right about Cardinal Rule of Dating #6. I shouldn’t date a girl on the rebound, even Gina. To her I was just an escort, someone who bought the tickets so she could go to the Snowball and show off her butterflies and her new dress.
This is hard to write. I’m so totally bummed, my fingers feel all slow and heavy on the keyboard.
But I’ll keep going, for the record. As soon as we got in, the girls headed for the bathroom again. Nate was too psyched about holding Heather’s hand and seeing her right nipple to care about my problems with Gina. We stood at the refreshment table pigging out on the cookies.
When they left the ladies’ room like 10 hours later, Gina’s eyes were all red. She checked out the dance floor right away. Hunk and Phoebe from Friends were swaying together, total cling-ons. Before Heather would dance with Nate, she asked Gina, “You’ll be all right?” Gina nodded, like if she said anything she’d start crying again.
I asked Gina to dance, but she turned me down. We sat on the folding chairs on the edge of the dance floor while she stared at Hunk. She didn’t want punch. She didn’t want to get our pictures taken, which was okay because that cost $15. She just wanted to watch Hunk and Phoebe from Friends and sigh and be depressed.
It seemed like everyone else was on the dance floor, all sweaty and smiley. Sydney too. She wore this lacy one-shouldered green dress that matched her eyes. She and her friend Miranda were spazzing out to “Who Let the Dogs Out,” going “woof woof woof” and everything, but spazzing in a good way, like they didn’t care about not having dates.
Sydney’s legs looked fantastic. I guess her breasts always had me so distracted before that I never noticed her legs. I mean, really noticed them. Or maybe it was what she was wearing last night. A very short dress and black spiky shoes. She seriously could be a leg model. Is that a real job? I know there’s bathing suit models and hand models. Sydney should check into leg modeling as a career. I’m getting off track again.
Miranda saw me first. She gave me the evil eye and then said something in Sydney’s ear. Probably “Storky.” When Sydney glanced at me, her eyes lit up bright green like she was pissed off. Or maybe that was the strobe light.
I must have looked so glum, as Duke used to say, with my chin on my hands and my elbows on my thighs, right next to Gina Glum. I can’t believe I turned down Sydney Holland. I bet she and Miranda laughed their faces off at what a gigantic mistake I made.
Me and Gina sat there for 23 minutes total. The whole time, Hunk pressed against Phoebe from Friends like they were Siamese twins. And Sydney wouldn’t even look back in my direction.
Then Heather rushed over to us, grabbed Gina by the arm and yelled “Bathroom!” and ran off with her. I had no idea what was happening until Nate came over with this mondo grin on his face like he’d just scored. He goes, “Did you see it? Did you see it?” practically shouting. I’m like, “See what?”
Nate filled me in. They were dancing to “La Bamba.” Everyone was waving their hands in the air and jumping around. Heather got really into it, and the whole top part of her dress slid to her waist. Before she could pull her dress back up and run off, Nate got to see both boobs—completely everything, close up.
He said they looked like tennis balls. Not green and fuzzy, but just as bouncy and round and perfect. Why wasn’t I looking!
Nate and I were giving each other high fives when someone pounded on my shoulder. I turned around and faced Hunk. He goes, “Hey, Storky, are you Gina’s date?”
I thought, This is how I die. A 220-pound lineman beats the life out of me, and I haven’t even kissed a girl yet or learned to drive. In my head I said, Yeah, I’m Gina’s date, you got a problem with that, Jockula? Instead I nodded and looked at my shoes.
He goes, “Poser.” Then he walked away. All I could think was, Thank God he didn’t beat me up. I’m such a wimp. Still haven’t figured out what a poser is. It can’t be good.
When the girls came back, Nate and Heather headed off to take pictures. He held her hand. Her other hand was like glued to the top of her dress.
Gina went back to staring at Hunk and Phoebe. They practically had dry sex to the theme song from Titanic. I hate that song anyway.
I kept looking for Sydney, but couldn’t find her anywhere. With my luck, she was probably in a dark corner making out with some guy. Just as I was picturing that, Hunk slid Phoebe right in front of Gina, grabbed the back of Phoebe’s head, and kissed her. A long one. Likely involving tongue.
That’s when Gina goes, “I can’t do this anymore.” She started begging me to go home. So I said, “Fine, we’ll ask Nate to call his mom next time we see him.” What am I supposed to say—No, you have to suffer here with me all night? Then I guess Gina got so desperate she went out searching for him. I followed her like a stupid puppy.
We found Nate and Heather on the folding chairs on the far side of the auditorium, totally lip-locked. I could tell he was pissed when Gina asked him to call his mom.
So that’s pretty much how that crappy night ended. Oh yeah, one more crappy thing. The Mike Wallace thing. The whole way home, Nate’s mom—who’s usually the weak, silent type—fired off a ton of questions. How was the restaurant? How was the dance? Were your friends there? Did you get your pictures taken? Why did you leave so early? I wanted to shove a couple cigarettes in her mouth and tell her to mind her own business.
So that’s it. That’s it for my night. That’s it for the Snowball. That’s it for school dances. That’s it for me and Gina. That’s it for me and any girl. That’s it for me.
And I still have 13 more days before I get the TV back.
Monday, December 20
It’s Winter Break, Unplugged. 11 more days of TV deprivation. Read Ethan Frome today. Compared to that guy, or anyone in that book, my life’s a total picnic.
Thursday, December 23
Met Nate at the mall. He’s going to a party with Heather on New Year’s Eve, so he bought a 5-pack of condoms at Rite Aid. They sure make a lot of different kinds—ribbed, lubricated, extra strength, Valupaks. He just got the regular Trojans, because that’s the only one we’ve heard of.
The lady at the register looked about 110 years old. She could practically be Grandma’s grandma. Even Nate was blushing and fumbling with his money in front of her. As she was ringing him up, she goes, “Good for you, sonny. Take it from me. You don’t want herpes.” We were so freaked, we didn’t even wait for Nate’s change.
Nate’s cousin works at Pretzel Time, so we got free pretzels and Cokes. Then we went over to Hickory Farms and tasted like 5 different cheeses plus a salami. For dessert, we each took a couple handfuls of cookie samples from Mrs. Fields. I didn’t spend a dime all day.
Tonight Amanda’s date was more than 15 minutes late, so she ditched him and drove over to Bulimic Michele’s house. On her way out, Amanda goes, “Just let my date know tardies are inexcusable.” Harsh!
When the guy finally showed up, Vermin made him sit on the flowery couch while he grilled him about his intentions with Amanda and his future career goals and stuff. After the grilling, Verm told the poor jerk that Amanda wasn’t there. As soon as he left, me and Verm started busting up. Mom made clicking noises and shook her head.
Friday
, December 24
Begged for the TV back 8 days early, since it’s winter break and I’m dying of boredom. I’m halfway through War and Peace. 703 more pages to go. Mom’s being a hard-ass. Says if I finish it and Anna Karenina, she might reconsider. Says if I’m so bored, I should go to Golden Village. No way.
Saturday, December 25
Christmas is hard when you’re a Jew. Nothing’s open. Everyone else is eating fruitcake and stringing popcorn or whatever with their families. Being Jewish on Christmas doesn’t stop Amanda from being all social. Bulimic Michele had her over. I wonder if she threw up her Christmas dinner. Spewed cranberry sauce. Gross.
I was so bored today, I agreed to catch a movie with Mom and Verm. That’s about the one good thing you can do on Christmas—go to the movie theater and see everyone from temple. Either that or watch all the dads on the block help their kids ride their new bikes and scooters and stuff.
Verm vetoed Mom’s movie choice. He won’t see anything with Meryl Streep, especially if she’s doing an accent. Me and Verm picked this war film. I didn’t understand it, but the battle stuff was cool. I fell asleep near the end. Woke up to Mom and Verm holding hands. Ugh.
We went to Denny’s afterward. It was the only thing open. All these families sat in the booths, dressed up in fancy red-and-green outfits, eating sliced turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy. It just seems so depressing. Your big holiday dinner spent at Denny’s.
I wonder what Duke’s doing for Christmas.
Sunday, December 26
I’m so sick of Dad being late. It’s like I’m the lowest priority in his life. After I waited 38 minutes for him, I pulled an Amanda. I ditched the house and biked over to Nate’s. I told him Dad canceled. I didn’t feel like going all into it.
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