The Bubblegum Notes

by Dariana Adams

The

  Bubblegum Notes

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AUTHOR

  Copyright © 2015 by Dariana Adams

  Cover design inspired by Gabriel Smith

  This book is a work of fiction.

  No Part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Note 1

  All right, so I can see what you’re thinking right about now. But you have no idea what I’m thinking or why I’m thinking it. So before you judge me for being me, let me say this: she started it first. And now it’s payback time. So can you please stop grilling me and understand my side of the story for once? Thanks. XOX.

  At first I didn’t understand why she did it, but here’s my most recent analysis of Tammy Grey’s anatomy. She has a disease growing from the inside out. It’s why she acts the way she does. Hey, bipolar Tammy Grey, get over it! I would be a lot happier if your parents finally decided to homeschool you. Actually, I think a lot of kids would feel a lot happier if your parents made that decision.

  Can’t you see it’s just not the same anymore? Nobody is smiling, and definitely nobody’s laughing. Now I know what you’re going to say. She’s been through a lot for her age and she’s processing or progressing. But she’s turned the sixth grade into the ninth grade, which is an even bigger nightmare, and I don’t think that even the tenth grade is as bad as this!

  Before, life was simple. I’d get up in the morning, look out my window, and scream, “I am king!” Then I’d slide down the stairs in my underwear and eat my favorite blueberry pancakes, which Mom makes me, with a smiley face made out of maple syrup.

  Then I’d ride the bus to school. I’d sit in the back with the cool kids. We’d make jokes about some kid. Everyone always thought I was the funniest. During PE it was even better. We’d shoot hoops and make even bigger jokes about the weird kids. There was Benny, the fat kid who never managed to complete a push-up even if it was just a girl push-up, and Nicholas, who always shot the ball in the wrong hoop. But hey, thanks for the extra points, man! I really do appreciate it. Then there were other kids, like six-eyed Joe, who never seemed to know much about anything but picking his nose and sticking his finger back into the bowling balls. It’s why I’ll never bowl again. I’ll just sit back and laugh. I don’t care if I never get another strike. At this point it’s fun watching these lame-os humiliate themselves. It’s more fun than playing, I think, especially with everyone slipping and falling all over each other like they’re bowling pins themselves.

  Well, I just can’t believe it’s just not like that anymore, all because some people started to feel some kind of way about things. All because people wanted to try something new, be something new—and it all started with one person, one kid, one simple, not-so-simple girl: Tammy Grey.

  Note 2

  I can recall it like it happened just this morning. Ms. Terry announced that there would be a new girl in our homeroom tomorrow before lunch. She said that we are all to be exceptionally welcoming to her and if she found out otherwise, she would report us to Ms. Spalding, the school principal. Now, if you ever met Ms. Spalding you’d know two things: Number one, you don’t look at her mole. Number two, you don’t look into her eyes, because she’ll think you’re staring at her mole, which is right underneath her left eye so you don’t want to make that mistake.

  In her annoyingly screechy, high-pitched voice, Ms. Terry asked us who would like to volunteer to show the new girl around. At the time she asked this, I was busy trying to blow a large bubblegum bubble on top of Margaret’s shiny blond hair; that’s when Ms. Terry singled me out and said, “Mr. Turner!” Now, I thought she couldn’t see from her right eye, and I was sitting on the left side of the room facing her, so I still can’t understand how she saw me. “Thank you for volunteering,” she said. “This would be a good opportunity for you to earn some stars on the good deed chart and possibly remove some of the red strikes you have managed to accumulate throughout this semester. One more strikes and you’ll be placed out of this room and into a one-on-one setting—by yourself! Can you comprehend what I am saying, Mr. Turner?”

  Okay, Ms. Terry, cool your jets. I understood I was in hot water, but she didn’t have to call me out like that. Even my friends started laughing at me. My own friends, who are supposed to be on my side! I was at the bottom of the gold stars list and had more red strikes than any of my friends. This was serious. I couldn’t afford another phone call home, so I knew I had to pull up my pants on this one.

  Flynn nudged me with his elbow. “No more fooling around, bro,” he whispered. “Game’s over. Guess only the best do survive.”

  “It’s nothing. I can handle this,” I whispered back. “It’s just one girl I have to be nice to. No big deal.”

  “Mr. Turner, do you have anything to say? Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, Ms. Terry, I understand,” I said with my nose down.

  This is so messed up. Why couldn’t she have picked Kenny? He was worse than me, way worse. Look at him over there, picking his nose and flicking boogers on Frank’s shirt. What did Frank ever do to him? I wouldn’t do that. That’s so third grade.

  ___

  When I got home that very day, Mom sat me down on the red couch, so I knew I was in trouble. Every time I sat on that couch, Mom either yelled at me or took something away. So I braced myself by burying my head underneath my Toy Story blanket, a reminder that I’m just a kid, so there’s no need to yell.

  “Joey,” she said, “I got a call from Ms. Terry this afternoon.” Here it comes. “She said that you volunteered to help out the new girl in school tomorrow.” Gulp. “I’m so proud of you.”

  What? “Proud?” I said, peeking out the corner of my eye.

  “I knew you were on the right path again in school. Come here,” she said, grabbing me by the arm and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I couldn’t believe it. She was proud of me. “If you keep up the good deeds, I will most definitely get you the Batman game you’ve been asking for.”

  “Wow. Thanks, Mom.” I couldn’t believe I was getting props for something I hadn’t really volunteered for, and it felt great. Maybe I should have done this a lot sooner, then I’d have all of the greatest video games in the world right in my own room.

 

  Note 3

  At first, it seemed just like any other morning. The sun was shining, and I felt like myself, a little shorter than most my age—actually a lot shorter. Short as a stool, but I still consider myself pretty cool. I slid down the stairs, sat at the table, and waited for breakfast. Mom came by with a plate of wheat crackers and some green drink.

  “What the heck?” My stomach started to turn from the sight. “Mom, what happened to the pancakes?” She shook her head.

  “Not today, Joey. This will give you lots of energy. You have a big day ahead of you.”

  “Oh, right, the tour,” I said, unexcited. “Yippee.”

  The dreaded tour, and now a bad breakfast.

  The drink smelled like grass and the crackers looked like cardboard. I took a small sip and felt my insides begin to crumble. The nearest thing was the fish tank, so in there it went. I’d rather wait until lunch than eat something that looked like a blended frog. I ran outside, sat on the sidewalk, and waited for the school bus to arrive. I looked at my watch; it read 7:05. The bus should have pulled up by now. Five minutes later, a car drove right through a puddle, completely splashing me. The muddy water ruined my shirt and even squirted up my nose (the price I pay for having large nostrils). Finally the bus pulled up. I asked the driver, “Do you mind if I go in and change m
y shirt?” He said nothing and pointed his fat finger at me and then at the back of the bus, motioning me to just get on the bus and sit down.

  “I know a good lawyer,” I told the bus driver, just so he knew I wouldn’t stand for such nonsense. That’s what Mom does. He looked at me with a blank expression and pulled the door shut.

  “Sit down,” he growled.

  “Yes, sir,” I answered.

  It was just me and Flynn on the school bus today.

  “Casper caught something in his sleep,” Flynn explained. “It was something like a strip or step throat.” In the whole two years I’ve known Casper he’s never been sick. Now he has a bad throat? Who’s going to help me get through this day now? Flynn? No way. I can’t rely on Flynn. Sure, he’s a great guy at heart, but I need a wisdom kind of guy by my side—not a wise guy. Let’s just face it, Flynn, you’re not the brightest crayon in the two hundred boxes of crayons we have at Westhill Middle School, which reminds me…

  “It’s strep throat, bro,” I said to Flynn.

  “Yeah, bro, that’s what I said.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Sure you did.”

  ___

  This morning, Ms. Terry looked different than usual. All the other teachers kept giving her compliments on her shoes and on her face.

  “Where did you get that fabulous red lipstick?” the drama teacher asked.

  “From MAC,” she answered.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to find one myself that looks that great.”

  I didn’t get it. She went to McDonald’s for lipstick? Who does that? I had no idea Big Macs came with lipstick.

  “Bro,” Flynn said from behind me, interrupting my thoughts, “word on the street is the girl’s really pretty. You know what that means.”

  I knew exactly what he was referring to: humiliate and embarrass her for her whole middle school journey. But I couldn’t do that. Looking up at the only two stars I had made me feel pitiful. Everyone else was on the good deeds board, shining with their tens and twenties.

  “Yeah, bro, it means we got to be extra polite,” I said.

  “Noooo, I’m thinking we get her with the pudding balloons during lunchtime. It’ll be perfect ’cause she won’t even be expecting it her first day.”

  “Bro, I’m just trying to get through the day without getting yelled at.”

  “Oh, excuse me, I forget just how sensitive you really are.”

  I couldn’t sit in front of Flynn today. I knew he’d do nothing but make me mess up. So I got up and switched seats with Kenny.

  Ms. Terry came to the front of the classroom with a clipboard to begin taking attendance. She looked a lot taller than yesterday. “All right, class, as you know, we have a new student coming in today, right before lunchtime. She’s flying into New York today to be with us this school year and she’s coming all the way from Florida. Her name is Tammy Grey and…”

  “That means she’s approximately 1,005 miles away from here,” Kenny interrupted. I never understood why he needed to impress Ms. Terry all the time; it wasn’t like she didn’t already know he was a geek.

  “Dork,” Flynn said in Kenny’s ear.

  “All right, all right,” Ms. Terry said. “Let’s just listen now. No need to speak while I’m talking. As I was explaining, her name is Tammy Grey, and she is making a lot of new adjustments in the middle of this school year. So it’s important to be nice and show her what a great class we are.”

  “Joey,” she said, looking directly into my eyes, “Tammy will sit next to you—there.” She pointed to an empty chair beside me. “Have I made myself clear enough?”

  “Yes, Ms. Terry.”

  “Good. Okay, everyone take out your writing books and begin to answer the following question in the format of an essay.”

  Ms. Terry was eyeing me the whole time. I knew what she was thinking: that I was a mess-up who wouldn’t be capable of doing the simple task of showing Ms. Grey around the school. I was ready to prove her wrong ten times over—whatever that means.

  When Tammy came to school, she was dressed really weird, like for a prom date. She was really careful with where she walked and she didn’t want to touch anything. It was almost like she walked on eggs or eggshells, whatever that meant.

  “Okay, so Ms. Terry said this was going to be your locker. You can change the code on the lock if you want; she won’t notice,” I said, handing her the lock. She still hadn’t said a word. “Oh, and if it gets jammed, just hit it up here twice,” I suggested, pointing at the top edge of the locker.

  She looked at me like I was speaking in a foreign language. I kind of thought she didn’t speak English at first. I had been showing her around for ten whole minutes and she hadn’t said a word. After she stared at me for what seemed like an hour, she pulled the handle on her locker to try and get it open. But it was jammed, like I said it would be.

  “Here, like this. Just clench your fist.”

  Bang, bang. The locker opened up and out jumped a spider, but it was a little spider. Anyway, that got Tammy talking.

  “Oh, my God! Oh, my God. What is thaaaaat?”

  “Well, before you, it seems like this little guy lived here. It’s only a spider.”

  Boy, you should have seen her face. Her ears and cheeks turned purple. I thought I saw fire come out of her ears.

  “I don’t want this LOCKER!”

  “Uh…Okay, okay. You can have my locker.”

  “Good. Where is it?”

  “Over here. It’s a pretty solid locker, no problems in months. Just let me get my things out.”

  Note 4

  I don’t really want to explain what happened after that or why it happened. I’d rather just lay it to rest. I only want to reiterate what she told Flynn right before he got his detention notice for four days. “You’re very lame,” she said. “You’re like two years ago.” I had no idea what that meant. How can someone be like two years ago? Isn’t everyone here now like so today? But anyway, all the girls were laughing, and for the first time Flynn ran out of jokes. He was humiliated. So what did he do about it? He grabbed a chocolate pudding balloon and placed it on her chair right before she was about to sit down. The one thing I begged him not to do, he did. Oh, what a mess it made. Tammy had on white pants, which only made things worse. The entire cafeteria gasped. That was the last thing I heard before the big silence.

  Everything after that, I can’t remember. Now, I totally would have not done that. Two years ago, maybe, but totally not this year, not today, not this hour—and most definitely not to Tammy Grey.

  ———

  When I first met Tammy, I knew right away she wasn’t like every other girl in our grade. She was really pretty. I mean really. I won’t lie to you. I couldn’t stop looking at her. I couldn’t understand why, though. She had on that red lipstick Ms. Terry got from McDonald’s and wore high-heel platform shoes. But, boy, she sure wasn’t pretty after she sat on that pudding balloon. I tried to help her out by getting some napkins, but she wouldn’t even look at me. She just snatched the napkins from my hands and didn’t even say thank you. It’s not like I did it, Tammy; you could have at least said thanks.

  The cafeteria was silent. In that moment you could hear a leaf fall because it was so still. I had never heard it that quiet with so many kids still in it. I caught Flynn’s eyes, as did the entire cafeteria. Right after, Principal Spalding showed up and snatched Flynn away into the darkest shadows of the school. Will he ever return? It felt like that was the end for Flynn, and I knew he was embarrassed. Poor Flynn, he was a good fella—funny, quick on his feet, and not bad-looking either. They say the good perish young.

  Note 5

  Sheeesh! It had been such a long day, and I didn’t even get to finish giving my tour. I didn’t know what to tell Mom. Although I had done nothing wrong, somehow I felt guilty for what happened. Because Flynn is my best friend and we do everything together, it kind of felt like I d
id something wrong, too. When I got home, Mom didn’t ask me any questions. She said she knew all about it. Then she told me I wasn’t allowed to hang out with Flynn anymore because he was a bad influence on me. I couldn’t believe it. I had known Flynn for almost my entire life—I’m eleven now, so that’s a long time! We have almost the same birthdays: July 25 and July 26. I’m just twenty-two hours older than he is. We even have similar birthmarks on our arms. The kid is practically my brother. We learned everything together: how to bike and skateboard, tie a balloon, climb a rock, and beat anyone who’s anyone at any car-racing game there is. We figured it all out on our own, and now we’re being forced to stop. It’s like splitting up Mickey and Minnie, Timon and Pumbaa, Lilo and Stitch—any one of those would be a crime.

  I stayed up for hours telling Mom how it wasn’t entirely Flynn’s fault, but Tammy’s. She started it, not Flynn. But Mom only looked at me and shook her head at every other word that came out of my mouth.

  “Flynn can change, Mom,” I said. “All he needs is my help.” Again, she only shook her head and her finger at me.

  “Flynn is not your responsibility. Now please go to bed.”

  She had an answer for everything. I could not believe it. I looked over at Dad, hoping he would look into my eyes and see my sadness. But as always, he sat at his desk with his hands clasped and a confused look on his face, like he doesn’t know what’s going on. I kept pouting for as long as I could.

  “Dad, you understand, don’t you?” I said, hoping he’d just say yes even if he was just trying to make Mom happy.

  “I do, son, but unfortunately your mother is right. It’s just not a good idea to hang around Flynn right now.”

  My mouth dropped. Not a good idea to hang around Flynn? I couldn’t believe what Dad said. After all these years, he still had to agree with Mom on everything. I don’t get it. I give up. It was like they were saying Flynn had some sort of disease, and if I stayed around him too long, I’d get infected.

  “Dad, Flynn isn’t sick. He’s my best friend.”

  “I understand that, son, but what he did today is not good, and your mother just wants you to be aware of that,” he said with a confused look on his face.