by Jim Benton
mouth shut, and keeping your big fat hairy hands to
yourself. And if you DO feel the irresistible need
to discuss the dumbness of Dicky Flartsnutt’s
shoes, you had better make sure it doesn’t get back
to him — because if it does, even accidentally, and
he feels bad about it, you might have become a kind
of bully.”
“Those shoes are made out of the same thing
they make pencil erasers from,” Angeline blurted,
and then covered her mouth as if she had actually
spoken a fart.
“I’m telling him you said that,” I said
seriously. Angeline looked terribly upset for a
moment before laughing.
“Did you ever say anything mean about me?”
she asked.
I stopped and thought for a moment.
“Nope,” I said.
Monday 23
Dear Dumb Diary,
Just before school today, Isabella and I
spotted Dicky outside. I was happy to see that he
had gotten his hat back.
For some reason, it was in the branches of a
tree by the front entrance.
“How did that get up there?” I asked.
“Oh, just an accident, I guess,” Dicky said.
“I threw it up there,” Butch said, walking up
to join us in a big fat hairy manner.
Isabella looked at him for a long
moment, and then up at the hat. I had seen her
do this sort of calculation in her head before. I knew
she was trying to determine how many times she
would have to pound Butch’s head against the trunk
to shake the hat loose, and if he would lose
consciousness in the process.
“I always hated that hat,” Dicky said, and
walked inside.
Butch laughed bigly and hairily and
walked away fatly.
I looked at Isabella, and she just shrugged.
“I guess Dicky hates the hat,” she said. “All’s
well that ends well.” As we headed into school, I
thought about how great it was that Isabella had
come so far so quickly.
I wonder if her brothers have changed without
her. I’m so glad they’re never coming back.
Tuesday 24
Dear Dumb Diary,
I thought that nobody could be more pleased
about Isabella’s newly developed niceness than me.
But today, I think I discovered one person who’s
even happier about her change:
Butch.
Butch sat down at our lunch table today. He
stared right into Isabella’s eyes, reached over, and
grabbed a chip off her tray. A good chip. A
barbecue chip.
Six chairs immediately pushed away from the
table. I was not about to get cabbage-juiced again.
But Isabella did nothing. She just kept eating.
This was the new Isabella — calmer, gentler, more in
control of her temper.
Then Butch reached for something on
Dicky’s tray.
109
There was a blur of motion, a loud snap, and
the next thing I knew, Butch was on the ground,
holding a broken wrist. I didn’t know Isabella could
still move that fast.
I looked at her, shocked.
“My brothers got fired. They came home last
night,” she whispered to me as we were led to the
office by the cafeteria monitor and part-time
hippopotamus impersonator, Miss Bruntford.
Angeline and I were ready to spill the whole
story, even though we knew it was going to sound
like this: Isabella broke a boy’s wrist because he
reached for a box of cabbage juice. That was not
going to go well for her.
While we waited for Butch’s parents, we got
grilled by Assistant Principal Devon.
110
“What happened this time?” he asked,
looking pretty angry.
Before we could answer, Dicky piped up. “I
think Butch can tell this best.”
All eyes turned to the big fat and hairy oaf in
the corner.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Butch began, and then
he looked around. There were eight of us there
prepared to talk. Butch knew he was heavily
outnumbered.
So he confessed. Everything. Years’ worth of
confessions came pouring out. He said Isabella was
blameless. He said it was all his fault.
111
You always wonder what makes people
mean. Personally, I don’t think anybody is
born mean, because I have yet to meet a mean baby.
I think that experiences have more to do with it.
Butch’s dad came into the office, yelled at
him, and hustled him out of the office. We watched
through the window as he pushed Butch into the
car, caring little about his wrist.
The next thing we knew, Isabella had run out
after him.
What choice did I have? I followed. She’s my
best friend.
When I got there, she was leaning in the car
window and talking to Butch. “Sorry about that,”
she said, pointing at his wrist.
He scowled at her.
“Listen, after you get patched up, why
don’t you join the Videogamer Club? I think you
have some raw animal instincts that those punks
can learn from.”
Butch’s face contorted from a scowl into
disbelief into a genuine smile . . . and then a frown.
“This is just so you can win the membership
drive, isn’t it?” he said. “Like how you were trying to
recruit Flartsnutt.”
Isabella shook her head. “We already lost that.”
Butch’s dad was losing patience. “We’ve got
to go, little girl. Back off.”
Without wasting a second, Isabella grabbed
the mirror on the passenger side of the car. “Hold
your horses, Pops, or I’ll twist this thing off,” she said.
Butch’s dad sputtered, and his eyes got huge.
He didn’t want to, but he laughed a little.
“I’ll think about it,” Butch told Isabella, and
they drove off.
“He’ll be there,” Isabella said to me as
we walked back inside.
I asked her why she would even want him
there, and she just shrugged.
“I think it will be good.”
113
Wednesday 25
Dear Dumb Diary,
After school today, before we went to our
clubs, Angeline stopped by my locker.
“Did you see the sign-up sheets? Dicky joined
the Student Awareness Committee.”
“What did you do, turn that charm on full
blast?” I asked. “Flash those baby blues at him?”
She frowned. “That’s a rotten thing to say,
Jamie. It wasn’t like that.”
I knew it was a rotten thing to say, but there
are very few times when you can say rotten things
about baby blue eyes, and you have to make sure
you don’t miss them.
“You know our clubs will probably disband
now,” Isabella said, walking up to join us. She
looked as though she didn’t know what to do with
&nb
sp; her hands, so she pulled Angeline’s hair with
them a little.
“Her brothers are back,” I explained, and
Angeline nodded.
I decided not to tell anybody in the Cuisine
Club about Dicky’s decision.
Isabella told me that she wasn’t going to say
anything to her club, either. As we headed toward
the room where the Videogamer Club met, we saw
Butch going in. He waved at us. It was a big fat
ugly hairy wave with a bandaged hand, but for
Butch, it was kind of cute.
I peeked in on the Cuisine Club for just a
moment, and watched the kids trying to make
cookies look like turtles. Because I guess making
food look like other things is a thing you want to do.
I guess.
It was sad to think this was our last meeting.
Then I walked down to look in on the Student
Awareness Committee meeting. I expected them to
be all celebratey, but they weren’t.
“Didn’t you tell them that you won?” I asked
Angeline, who stopped working on a poster for just a
moment.
“I did.”
“So, why aren’t you all freaking out with joy
and stuff?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Because Dicky
had an idea, and we have too much work ahead of
us to celebrate. I’m going to go talk to Isabella, and
you need to fill in the Cuisine Club.”
Can’t write anymore now, Dumb D. Too tired.
I’ll explain tomorrow.
116
Thursday 26
Dear Dumb Diary,
Last night was a long night, but it really paid
off this morning.
Dicky had an idea, all right.
He pointed out that the cafeteria was more
than big enough to house all three of our clubs.
Plus, the Cuisine Club was already there using the
kitchen part, anyway. So why not just join all three
clubs together into one big club, and split the prize
three ways?
“Because, dingledoof,” Isabella said,
“that won’t be enough money for anybody.”
“Yes, dingledoof,” he replied (mistaking it
for a friendly nickname), “but you three are not
going to have any problems with that. I have a plan.”
And so we made cupcakes. Tons of them.
Everybody in the Cuisine Club did.
Isabella, Angeline, and Dicky came over to my
house, and we were up pretty late making incredibly
beautiful cupcakes. Isabella ate only three, which
was awesome and kind of a miracle.
And this morning we SOLD the cupcakes
instead of giving them away, and Angeline sold
lemonade instead of water. And yes, she did flash
the baby blues, but it was for a good cause.
Isabella and her club hauled TVs down to the
lobby and hung up a sign that said CAN YOU
BEAT BUTCH?
Everyone was eager to beat him, of course,
and Isabella had a game loaded up that he wasn’t
familiar with. With his wrist patched up, Butch
couldn’t beat anyone, not even Dicky (who seemed
to enjoy the games, even though they were in slight
conflict with his inner personality).
Out of gratitude, I even made Dicky his very
own cupcake, which he could eat and totally
loved. (It was my fake potato cupcake recipe. It
turns out that somebody besides dogs and dads
actually likes cupfakes.)
118
Assistant Principal Devon spontaneously
approved a late start to first period just so we could
carry on longer, although I suppose we should call
him Uncle Dan for that.
We made more than enough money for all
three clubs to keep going, and I think they’ll all be
better because of the overlap:
Butch will be able to interact with people
without being mean to them, and Dicky will be able
to interact with people without them being mean
to him.
Isabella might actually look at food before
she eats it, and Angeline gets to make us aware of
things.
And me, I’ll just get prettier and prettier,
but this would have happened no matter what.
Oh! And the janitor that was always hanging
around and staring? Turns out he really IS into
cupcakes and popcorn. He’s an enthusiastic
amateur chef and he wanted to offer to help with
the Cuisine Club, and we can really use the help now.
119
Friday 27
Dear Dumb Diary,
Mrs. Curie talked more about the wildebeests
today, and about how living in herds protects animals.
They can watch out for one another that way.
That made me think about Dicky and Butch
and what makes bullies in general.
Isabella grew up the way she did because she
was picked on by her mean older brothers. I’m
guessing that her brothers grew up the way they
did because they resented her as the baby of the
family, and the fact that she was easily ten
times smarter than they were. I mean, that
has to wear on you. They also probably resented
how pretty Isabella’s best friend is.
I guess Butch might have been mean because
he has it rough at home. But there’s no real way for
me to know that.
I don’t know if being nice to Butch will change
him. He’ll probably always be kind of tough, like
Isabella, but I know that Dicky’s problems seemed
to get smaller when the truth came out about them,
and that only happened when Butch saw he was
outnumbered.
The wildebeests didn’t even have to really
attack the hyena, it was the sheer number of
wildebeests that changed the hyena’s mind.
Later on, I talked to Angeline about that, and
we decided that maybe we should do some posters
on that — telling people that if you’re getting
bullied, you should say something.
121
Isabella said that when her brothers got
home, they seemed a little different. Like maybe
they realized that they also were outnumbered out
there in the Terrible Real World. It wasn’t the
two of them against one sister anymore — it was
them against the whole world. Maybe that knocked
some of the bully out of them. Maybe they’ll be a
little more human now, and less hyenaish.
Isabella admitted that she’s glad they’re
back. She hates them, of course, but she loves
them, of course, and she says that they keep her on
edge. If she had stayed a big softy, she might not
have snapped Butch’s wrist like a breadstick, and
somebody had to. She says the world doesn’t need
bullies, but as long as they’re out there, it does
need people that aren’t afraid to stand up to them,
and maybe that’s kind of her deal.
122
Mom came home today. No phone call or
anything. C’mon, Mom, even the flu season gives
you a little warning.
I knew we were go
ing to be in huge trouble,
because the kitchen was a massive disaster.
At least, it was before Dad rushed in like a
wildebeest and cleaned it.
Can you believe it?? Dad actually
learned how to clean, even though I knew he
never would, and Mom was less interested in the
house than she was in us, anyway. I told her about
some of the meals Dad hasn’t been making, and he
bragged to her about how great I’ve been taking
care of him while she was gone.
Maybe I didn’t know it before, but I can see
now that, in our own way, we’re just as Flartsnutty
as any Flartsnutt you’ll ever meet. Some days,
maybe even a little Flartsnuttier.
Thanks for listening, Dumb Diary,
Are You a Bully?
You could be a bully without even knowing it. Take
this extremely scientific quiz to find out!
1.) There’s a kid in school who brings kale salad
every day for lunch. What do you say to him?
a. “Wow, that looks . . . interesting. What is it?”
b. “That looks like a brussels sprout ate some
spinach and threw up in your lunch.”
c. Nothing. You wouldn’t go near kale salad with
a 10-foot pole.
2.) Your BFF proudly shows you the painting she did
for art class, but it’s not very good. What do you
tell her?
a. “Cool! If you want to borrow some of my
glitter, I can show you some ideas for how
to add a little sparkle.”
b. “Hang that in your attic to scare spiders
away.”
c. “Huh. Maybe the paint spoiled.”
3.) There’s a kid who sits in the front of the bus
every day and does math problems in a
workbook for fun. What do you do?
a. Invite him to sit with you and your friends.
b. Steal his super-nerdy E=mc
2
hat and toss it
around the bus until you get to school.
c. Ignore him, just like everyone else.
4.) Your friend tries out for the soccer team, but
doesn’t make it. What’s the first thing you say