Annie's Life in Lists

by Kristin Mahoney

  1. Zora shared her snack (pretzels and hummus) with me.

  2. Our classroom has a lizard named Harvey.

  3. I only got lost the one time.

  Nine questions Mom had to ask me before I told her all the details of my day

  1. How was school?

  2. Do you like your teacher?

  3. How were the other kids?

  4. Did it seem really different from Brooklyn?

  5. What are your classmates like?

  6. Who did you sit with at lunch?

  7. What did you talk about at lunch?

  8. Were those kids all friends already?

  9. So all the kids were nice?

  Finally I told her: All the kids were mostly nice. But one kid, Amelia, was kind of snotty. I told her about the cookies.

  Mom’s sympathetic list of times people were mean to her

  1. When she was six, a big kid at the pool pushed her into the deep end and she freaked out because she wasn’t a good swimmer. The lifeguard fished her out and yelled at her for being in the deep end when she hadn’t taken a swim test.

  2. When she was nine, some girls in her class wouldn’t let her be in their secret club.

  3. When she was ten, she had to borrow her mother’s sunglasses on Hats and Shades Day at school (because she didn’t have her own), and a girl in her grade made fun of her because they were so uncool.

  4. When she was thirteen, a boy told her he wouldn’t dance with her at a school dance because she was too tall.

  After hearing this list, I felt a little better about Amelia. But I also felt pretty sad for Mom.

  One thing Ted told Mom about his first day of school (before going to his room and blasting his music)

  1. It’s different.

  Three things I told Millie in my email to her that afternoon

  1. My teacher’s name

  2. The names of the kids I sat with

  3. That I thought the new kids were nice, but I could tell they weren’t going to be as fun as she was

  I didn’t know if that last part was true—it was really too soon to know how fun anyone was going to be. But I didn’t want Millie to think I was in danger of making a new best friend.

  Seven ways my new town is different from my old one

  1. People drive almost everywhere.

  2. There is no train here.

  3. There is no city nearby.

  4. I was right—there are more bugs. Like spiders in our basement. And I heard someone say something about snakes, so I’m watching out for those, too. No bears so far.

  5. I take the bus home from school instead of walking.

  6. Most people here are white, and it seems like there are way fewer people with other skin colors. Or people from other countries. Or with different religions. (“Yes, it’s pretty homogeneous,” my mom sighed when I told her that Zora and her brothers were some of the only black kids at school.)

  7. There are different rules.

  Three rules in my new town that I didn’t have in my old town

  1. Call all grown-ups Mr. or Mrs., even if they aren’t teachers.

  2. Dogs do not have to be on leashes. (I guess this is the opposite of a rule; it’s like an un-rule. They just wander around the neighborhood as they please.)

  3. Take off your hat when you’re inside. (This is a tough one for Ted, who loves his Brooklyn Cyclones baseball cap.)

  Three ways Ted drives me nuts every day after school

  1. The drumming. Seriously. (His bedroom is right above mine, and the racket is constant.)

  2. Hogging the basketball hoop while he practices his free throw

  3. Burping the alphabet

  Two reasons Mom says I should be patient with Ted

  1. He’s at a “difficult age.”

  2. He had a bunch of friends back in Brooklyn, and he hasn’t really “connected with anyone here yet.” (I feel like saying, “I had friends in Brooklyn too!” I mean, mostly Millie, but still, it’s not like moving was easy for me. Even if it was my fault. Especially if it was my fault.)

  Four ways Mom and Dad are trying to keep Ted occupied

  1. Taking us to free concerts at the Clover Gapitheater, which Ted always complains are “just a bunch of old guys playing banjos and tubas”

  2. Drum lessons with a man named Mr. Tapper (That was actually their gift to Ted for his birthday this year, not long after we moved. I think they hoped it would be a good way for Ted to meet people, but it turns out he’s the only one in the class. Dad keeps saying what a brilliant name Tapper is for a drum teacher; Ted keeps saying he is just another old guy who doesn’t let him “riff” enough.)

  3. Making him do yard work (Ted has pointed out that some kids get paid to mow lawns and trim bushes. Dad’s response: “And aren’t we lucky that we have you to do it for nothing?”)

  4. Making him fold laundry. He is not exactly an expert at this. (I know he’s been on folding duty when I find socks and underwear inside my shirtsleeves and pant legs the next day.)

  My three least-favorite parts of school

  1. Turn-and-talk time during morning meeting (see earlier: “Four reasons I’m quiet”)

  2. Oral presentations

  3. Kickball

  We never really played kickball in Brooklyn. Kids there played wall ball or four square, and if I had a choice, I would usually hang with Millie and draw with sidewalk chalk instead. But the truth is, even if I had gone to some kind of serious kickball academy my whole life, I’m pretty sure I would still be terrible at this game.

  Five everyday objects that freak me out

  1. Porcelain dolls

  2. Toy clowns

  3. Can openers

  4. Brillo pads

  5. Kickballs

  Eight things that happen during an average kickball game at my new school

  1. When one of the power kickers (like Charlie or Scarlett) goes up to kick, star pitcher Barry Seigler yells, “Back up!”

  2. All the kids in the outfield back up like fifty feet, to the edge of the playground. This is because the power kickers have mighty kicks that can send the ball into orbit.

  3. After the ball goes into orbit, everyone on that team cheers.

  4. When it’s my turn to kick, Barry yells, “It’s Annie.” (I will admit this is an improvement over “It’s the new kid!” which is what he said for the first couple of days of school.)

  5. The outfield kids all run forward and make a semicircle about ten feet away from me. (Because I do not have a mighty kick.)

  6. I kick, the ball goes about three feet, and someone immediately catches it and tags me out.

  7. No one on my team cheers, of course. (The kids on the other team cheer a little.)

  8. I return to the bench and sit with the one other person in the class who appears to have no interest in kickball, a girl named Kate.

  Two other things I have noticed during kickball games

  1. Charlie cheers especially enthusiastically for Zora. He cheers so much that I’m starting to wonder if he has a crush on her.

  2. Kate is always humming on the bench.

  Four things about Kate

  1. Hums a lot

  2. Wears glasses

  3. Doesn’t seem to care what she does at lunch (sometimes sits with Zora and Amelia and me, sometimes sits with Scarlett and her twin sister, Josie, sometimes helps Mrs. Otis, the librarian, shelve books)

  4. Reads a book on the school bus, and doesn’t care where she sits there, either

  Two of the most embarrassing moments in my life (before today’s kickball game)

  1. When my kindergarten teacher, Miss Bell
, saw me sucking my thumb in the backseat of my car after school

  2. The time I hugged a stranger’s legs in line at the post office because I mistakenly thought he was my dad

  My one most embarrassing moment (after today’s kickball game)

  1. Underwear flying out of the leg of my jeans after a kick

  Twelve events leading up to the airborne-underwear incident

  1. My jeans felt uncomfortable all morning, especially on the left leg. I mentioned it to Mom and she said that I was probably just outgrowing them, but there was no time to change if I was going to catch the bus.

  2. As usual, we played kickball that afternoon.

  3. When my turn came to kick, the outfield crew ran up to greet me like they always did.

  4. I ran toward the ball, and for once I actually gave it a respectable kick!

  5. It flew up, up, up into the air…and so did something else.

  6. Just when I should have been pumped about my best kick ever, I was horrified to discover that the reason my jeans had felt weird all day was that something was stuck inside them. It was a pair of polka-dotted underwear, left jammed inside my jeans leg by the world’s worst laundry folder, my brother, Ted. But the underwear was not stuck anymore! No, it was soaring into the air…straight into the waiting hands of star pitcher Barry Seigler.

  7. Barry started yelling, “Underwear! Ew, it’s underwear! Girls’ underwear!”

  8. Although it seemed beside the point to tell him that the underwear was clean, I tried anyway. “Oh, sorry; those must have been crumpled in my jeans. They’re not dirty,” I said.

  9. Barry threw the underwear onto the ground and started yelling for hand sanitizer.

  10. Everyone else was doubled over laughing.

  11. Everyone, that is, except for the super-focused Angela Havens, who grabbed the ball, ran with it to first base, and got me out.

  12. I retrieved my underwear, slunk back to my place on the bench beside the humming Kate, and made a mental note to strangle my brother.

  Two people who tried to cheer me up after the flying-underwear fiasco

  1. Kate (She said Barry was always doing gross things like picking his nose and wiping it under his desk, so she thought he deserved to get attacked by my underwear.)

  2. Zora (After the game she came up to me, put her arm around my shoulders, and said, “Annie, you might have invented a new game: capture the dirty laundry!” When I insisted that it was clean laundry, she said, “I know, I know. I’m just glad someone grossed Barry out for a change.”)

  One person who apparently is never going to forget the flying-underwear fiasco

  1. Amelia, who laughed so hard she cried and actually said, “I am never going to forget this!”

  One person who finally made me feel a little better about the whole mortifying situation

  1. Millie

  When I got home, instead of heading straight to the pantry for a snack, I told Mom I had to call Millie.

  Three things Millie said that made me laugh after I told her the underwear story

  1. You should just tell them that’s how we play it in Brooklyn. Call it undie-ball.

  2. You should hide all Ted’s underwear next time he’s in the shower.

  3. That still isn’t as bad as the time I peed in my leotard onstage when I was a snowflake in the Nutcracker.

  She’s right; it wasn’t. And even though she cheered me up, our conversation made me miss her even more.

  And I was still livid at Ted.

  Two things I said to Ted when he got home

  1. You messed up the laundry!

  2. Underwear flew out of my jeans leg in kickball and it was your stupid fault!

  Two things Ted said back to me

  1. That is the funniest thing I ever heard.

  2. Fold your own dumb laundry if you don’t like the way I do it.

  Eight downward spirals the conversation took from there

  1. I accused Ted of being a giant drag who was always grumping around the house because he had no friends.

  2. Ted told me it was my fault we had to move to this stupid town where he had no friends, and where he wouldn’t be able to go to high school for music.

  3. I told him he wasn’t even that good at drumming, and that he would make friends here if he wasn’t so lame.

  4. He told me Zora was only my friend because she felt sorry for me.

  5. Mom heard us yelling and told us to separate from each other.

  6. Ted yelled, “I am not folding her laundry anymore!”

  7. Mom said, “Fair enough.”

  8. Ted went outside to shoot baskets, slamming the front door on his way.

  So I seized my chance to explore an off-limits place: the attic crawl space off Ted’s room.

  Things I suspected were in Ted’s attic crawl space

  1. Stuff he never lets me touch, like his iPad and the bongos he bought at a street fair in our old neighborhood

  2. Old CDs Uncle Dan gave him (the ones Mom said had inappropriate lyrics)

  3. Money

  Three things that were actually in Ted’s attic crawl space

  1. Spiders

  2. His stuffed dinosaur, Jerome, which I thought he’d given away

  3. A box of old papers Mom and Dad had stored there

  Three boring things in the box of old papers

  1. Tax forms (yawn)

  2. Bills (snooze)

  3. A folder labeled TRANSCRIPTS/RÉSUMÉS (snoreburger)

  Two cute things in the box of old papers

  1. Ted’s and my old school pictures

  2. Ted’s and my preschool artwork

  One confusing thing in the box of old papers

  1. A letter from Dad’s old company in Brooklyn, addressed to Dad, with the words “Severance Agreement” at the top

  Two things the word “severance” makes me think of

  1. Cutting off a toe or finger

  2. Harry Potter’s Potions teacher

  I’m pretty sure this letter has nothing to do with either of those, but it still doesn’t sound good. I would ask Ted if he knows what it means, but we aren’t speaking to each other. Also, I don’t want him to know I was in “his” attic. But I know I’ll remember that letter.

  My nine favorite words, just because

  1. Morbid

  2. Lantern

  3. Flurry

  4. Hen

  5. Croon

  6. Hammock

  7. Woolen

  8. Storm

  9. Wretched

  My six least favorite words

  1. Toilet

  2. Chore

  3. Random

  4. Grizzly

  5. Clammy

  6. Delectable

  OCTOBER

  Five challenges for a new kid in school (besides the obvious ones like finding a seat at lunch and making friends)

  1. Don’t get lost when you have to see the school nurse or deliver something to another teacher. (So far, I’m not doing so great on this one; apparently, I have a terrible sense of direction.)

  2. Figure out who’s who. (There are two kids in the class next to mine named Molly and Maggie. For all of September I thought Molly was Maggie, and vice versa. Frustrating for someone who’s used to knowing who everyone is.)

  3. Try not to look too awkward when other kids get super excited and greet “celebrity” teachers they all know well. (My old school had these too—the favorite kindergarten teacher, the fun PE teacher, the cool art teacher, etc.)

  4. Don’t break the unspoken rules for school events like Pajama Day (wear a T-shirt and
flannel pants, not a nightgown; luckily, I was on target with that one) and Fall Festival (the bounce house is for the little kids; fifth graders head for the corn maze).

  5. Find something to do on weekends.

  On weekends in Brooklyn, I’d either go to a museum or a concert with my family, eat dinner with my parents’ friends and their kids, picnic in the park, or have a sleepover with Millie. Sometimes all those things. But we’re still figuring it out here. I’ve heard other kids talking about sleepovers, but I know I’m not close enough to anyone here yet to invite them over. And no one has invited me, either. So there’s been a lot of family togetherness on weekends.