#5 Not What I Expected

by Laurie Friedman

  © 2015 by Laurie Friedman

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise— without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  The images in this book are used with the permission of: © Pshonka/ Dreamstime.com (pumpkin); iStockphoto.com/PandaWild (smiley face and laughing face).

  Darby Creek

  A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

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  Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

  For reading levels and more information, look up this title at www.lernerbooks.com.

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17. Typeface provided by Linotype AG.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Friedman, Laurie B., 1964–

  Not what I expected / by Laurie Friedman.

  pages cm. — (The mostly miserable life of April Sinclair ; #5)

  Summary: “April Sinclair has always looked forward to high school. But with a jealous BFF, fighting parents, and self-doubt about romance, ninth grade may be more than April bargained for”— Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-4677-8588-4 (lb : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978-1-4677-8829-8 (eb pdf : alk. paper)

  1. High schools—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Family life—Fiction. 6. Diaries—Fiction. I. Title.

  PZ7.F89773No 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014046272

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1 – BP – 7/15/15

  eISBN: 978-1-46778-829-8 (pdf)

  eISBN: 978-1-46779-044-4 (ePub)

  eISBN: 978-1-46779-043-7 (mobi)

  For Becca, the best daughter a

  mother could ask for

  One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.

  —Simone de Beauvoir

  Sunday, August 17, 7:29 p.m.

  In the bathroom

  I’m not sure which is more traumatizing—learning how to put in a tampon or teaching your little sister how to do it. Actually, I do know. The experience I just had with May is permanently embedded into my brain in the most unfortunate way. She came into my room just as I was settling into bed to watch a double episode of Grey’s Anatomy. It was how I’d planned to relax on my last night before starting high school.

  One look told me May was upset. I shut my laptop. “Is this about what Amanda said at dinner?” I thought for sure it was going to be. But I was so far off.

  “I don’t know how to use a tampon.”

  I shook my head like that was a ridiculous thing to be scared about it, and her case it is. “You don’t need to know how to use a tampon. You haven’t started your period yet. Have you?”

  “No. But what if it starts while I’m at school?”

  This wasn’t the first time May and I had had this talk. I’d already assured her that even if she did start at school, she wasn’t going to bleed out all over Fern Falls Middle School. Still, I remember how scary it was starting middle school and worrying about when you were going to get your period. “What’d I tell you about your first period?” I asked May.

  “Not much comes out.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

  “Right. So keep a few pads hidden in your backpack and just put one on if you need it.”

  “But what if my first period is heavy?” asked May. “I’ve read that it can be.”

  I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was getting later by the minute, and I had a lot of TV to watch. “Everyone I know had a light first period. Don’t worry.”

  I thought I sounded fairly authoritative, but May wasn’t convinced. “Did you ask everyone you know if their first period was light?”

  I blew a piece of hair off my face in response. Her question sounded annoyingly like something Mom would ask. She ignored my lack of an answer and continued on. “Besides, I don’t think I’ll be able to play soccer or softball with a pad on.”

  Since I don’t do field sports, it was kind of hard for me to comment on that. “Maybe you need to talk to Mom. It’s her job to teach you these sorts of things.”

  “Mom said she’d teach me at the ‘right time.’” May enunciated the words like her definition of the right time and Mom’s weren’t the same. Then she looked at me, her big brown eyes popping out from under a fringe of stick-straight bangs. “I need to know. Just in case. Please, April. You’re my big sister.”

  I let out a breath. I knew she wasn’t going to leave me alone unless I helped her. Plus, I have to admit that part of me felt sorry for her. “C’mon,” I said. I grabbed May by the arm and led her into the bathroom. But before I could shut the door behind us, June followed us in.

  “What are y’all doing?” she asked.

  “April is teaching me how to use a tampon,” said May.

  I slapped my head. I couldn’t believe May told her what we were doing. She should have known this was NOT an activity that June needed to know anything about.

  But it was clearly something June was interested in. “Can I watch?” she asked.

  “NO!” I said. Mom would kill me if she knew I was letting my eight-year-old sister witness Tampon Insertion 101.

  June put her hand on her hip and made no movement towards the door. “C’mon,” she said. “I know what tampons are for. I know all about periods.”

  June always has a book in her hands and is an emerging smarty (Mom’s word, not mine) on lots of topics, but I was surprised this was one of them. I watched open-mouthed as she reached into the cabinet under the sink and took out my box of tampons. “I’ll read the directions while you show her what to do,” she said.

  This had wrong written all over it, but no way was I giving this lesson twice. “Suit yourself,” I said.

  June grinned victorious, plopped down on the ground, handed May a tampon, pulled the instruction leaflet out of the box, and started reading. “After washing your hands, remove the product from the wrapper and get into a comfortable position sitting on the toilet, squatting slightly with knees bent, or standing with one foot on the toilet seat.”

  May shot me a look.

  “Go with option one,” I said.

  May washed up, then pulled down her shorts and panties and sat on the toilet. She grinned like she was proud of having completed the first step. I felt vaguely nauseous.

  June kept reading. “To insert the applicator, hold the outer insertion tube by the finger grip with your thumb and middle finger. With the removal string hanging down, insert the tip of the applicator at a slight upward angle. Slide the outer insertion tube in until your fingers touch your body.”

  May stopped grinning. “Eww,” she said. “I don’t want to do that.”

  I didn’t think I should have to remind May that she’s the one who wanted to learn how to use a tampon. “Keep reading,” I commanded June.

  “To push the tampon inside you, push the inner tube with your pointer finger all the way into the outer tube, or use your other hand to push the inner tube. Remove the inner and outer applicator tubes at the same time. The tampon should now be comfortably inside you, with the removal string hanging outside your body.”

  May shook her head. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

  “Do you want June to read it again?” I asked.

  “No,” said May. She held the tampon out towards me. “Can you show me?”

  “Just stick it in,” I said. I gave May my best you-can-do-it look, but when I did, I
saw the tears forming. I racked my brain. “It doesn’t hurt. I promise.”

  May sniffled. “Please.”

  I looked at the tampon in her hand. It was a light one. “You pick up kids twice your size. For fun. You can put that little thing inside you.”

  May shifted on the toilet. “I don’t pick up kids anymore. I’m going to middle school.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m scared.”

  I took a deep breath. I knew she wasn’t talking about putting in the tampon. “Middle school will be fine,” I said. “You’ll make new friends, you’ll get used to switching classes. All the bad things you worry might happen won’t. If I survived middle school, you can too. I promise.”

  When I finished, May blew her nose into a piece of toilet paper. I actually thought we were done. I waited for her to stand and zip up. But that’s not what happened.

  “Now can you show me how to put this in?” She waved the tampon in front of me.

  This was an honor I didn’t need or want. But as the saying goes, it was time to get on with the show. Literally. I took a deep breath, unzipped, and then put in a tampon as both my little sisters watched. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” I wasn’t sure if I was saying it to myself or my little sister. Either way, I’d had all I could take. “My work here is done,” I said as I left.

  I’d much rather watch Grey’s Anatomy than May’s anatomy.

  10:42 p.m.

  Post-Grey’s

  Dad just came and told me to turn my light off. “I can’t believe my number one daughter is going to high school tomorrow,” he said.

  That makes two of us. The whole purpose of watching Grey’s was to help me relax and not think about it, but now it’s all I can think about. The dinner we had earlier tonight didn’t help. Since we go back to school tomorrow, Dad thought it would be nice to have a family gathering, so all my aunts, uncles, cousins, Gaga, Willy, and Sophie and her mom, Emma, convened at the Love Doctor Diner. As soon as we sat down with our plates of fried chicken, egg salad sandwiches, and Dad’s homemade pickled peaches, the back-to-school talk started.

  “Charlotte, Izzy, I can’t believe you girls are starting first grade,” said Gaga. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  Charlotte nodded. “I got a Hello Kitty backpack.”

  “I got a Thomas the Tank Engine lunch box,” added Izzy.

  My cousin Amanda rolled her eyes. “It’s kind of weird for a first-grader to have a Thomas the Tank Engine lunch box,” she mumbled.

  Aunt Lilly shot her daughter a look. “There’s nothing wrong with Thomas. If that’s Izzy’s choice, you should respect it.”

  “Sure,” said Amanda. Then she took a bite out of a drumstick like she didn’t care what kind of lunch box Izzy got.

  Gaga continued on around the table. “June, fourth grade is big. I’m sure you will excel academically and watch out for your younger cousins.”

  “I’ll be in third grade,” said June.

  Gaga ignored the correction and kept going. “May, are you ready for middle school?”

  “I guess,” said May. But as I watched her shift around in her chair, I could tell she was nervous. I think Gaga could tell too because she looked at Amanda, who dresses and acts like she’s sixteen, but is only a year ahead of May in school.

  “Amanda, do you have any advice for your younger cousin?”

  Amanda smacked her overly glossed lips. “Yep. Don’t go in the bathroom by the gym. The seventh and eighth grade girls will beat the crap out of you.”

  “Amanda!” Aunt Lilly and Uncle Dusty looked furious.

  “Please tell your cousin you’re kidding,” said Uncle Dusty.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she said to May. “I’m kidding.” Then she started laughing, which made it impossible to tell if she was kidding or not. May looked terrified.

  Gaga frowned at Amanda, but then she smiled at Sophie’s mom, Emma. “Your dad and I are so happy you and Sophie are here in Faraway with us, Emma, especially with Sophie and April going to school together.”

  Emma smiled like she’s happy too, but I know from Sophie that her mom is having a hard time with the “trial separation” thing and living in Faraway. How could she not? It must be so different from what she’s used to in Paris or New York.

  Gaga finished what I guess she considered to be her obligatory back-to-school round up with a nod toward my oldest cousin. “Harry, I really can’t believe you’ll be a junior this year. I’m sure you understand that the decisions you make now will affect the rest of your life.”

  Aunt Lilly put her hand on her son’s shoulder. “With college applications right around the corner, we’ve talked about how important it is to do well academically. Harry’s on board. Right, Harry?”

  Harry frowned. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was annoyed that his mother was talking about him in this weird third-person way or because he wasn’t happy about the added pressure. “Junior year is going to suck,” he said.

  Aunt Lila looked at her twins and gasped. “I don’t like that word,” she told them.

  “Harry!” Aunt Lilly scolded. “Please don’t use that word, and try to be positive.” Amanda laughed again.

  “I get what he’s saying,” said Sophie. “It’s kind of scary knowing that how you do in school affects where you go to college, and even how your life could turn out.” Then she winked at Harry. He looked surprised, and maybe even happy, that she’d come to his rescue.

  When dinner was over, everyone said goodnight and we went home. But as we drove, my mind filled with so many thoughts. Big things, like when do the decisions you make and the things you do start to affect the rest of your life? Junior year? Earlier?

  Also more personal things, like, will I still be close with Billy and Brynn? They’ve been my best friends since third grade, but things have changed since they started going out this summer. It’s mostly Brynn. She’s so possessive of Billy, like he belongs to her or something. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it. But it feels weird to me, especially since he and I went out way before he got together with Brynn.

  And what will it be like going to school with Sophie? It’s surreal that I have an almost-cousin/new best friend in Faraway. It’s still weird that her grandfather and Gaga got married, and crazy that she and her mom moved here when her parents decided to separate, and that tomorrow, she’s going to Faraway High School with me.

  And then there’s Matt. Things were so good when we went out last spring, but he was such a jerk this summer for trying to kiss Sophie. I was so upset when I came home from camp, and we broke up. He said we’d see how things are when school starts. It’s not even like I want to get back together with him. I’m pretty much over it now. But it doesn’t help that he lives next door. I just have no idea what it’s going to be like when I see him at school or on the street. I don’t really know what anything will be like.

  As I was leaving the diner, Sophie looped an arm through mine and said, “High school here we come!” Like we’re going on some exciting adventure.

  High school is a new beginning, right? So it should be exciting. But I feel unprepared. I wish there was something simple I could do to feel ready. I have exactly eight hours and forty-two minutes to sleep, wake, shower, flatiron my hair, put on makeup, pick out the perfect first-day outfit, and eat breakfast before getting to school by the time the first bell rings tomorrow. I kind of doubt straight hair is all I’m missing, but I’m out of time for anything else.

  Sophie’s words echo in my brain. High school here we come.

  Ready or not.

  Hi. I’m Elle Woods and this is Bruiser Woods. We’re both Gemini vegetarians.

  —Elle Woods, Legally Blonde

  Monday, August 18, 4:30 p.m.

  High School, Day 1

  Bottom Line: Uneventful

  I can’t help that part of me was hoping high school would start and somehow it would be fabulous. I don’t know what I was hoping for. Hot guys? No homework? Low-cal snacks? But it wasn’t any
thing like that. At least for me.

  My day started in Mrs. Monteleone’s homeroom. She asked us to go around the room and introduce ourselves and tell the class something we’d like everyone to know. Even though I went to middle school with half the kids in my homeroom, I still wanted to lead with something interesting. But I couldn’t think of one interesting thing to say about myself that wasn’t weird.

  Things that came to mind: (1) my dog’s name is Gilligan (weird), (2) my dad owns the Love Doctor Diner downtown, which makes the best pecan pies and Key lime pies around (also weird), and (3) until last year, my boobs were two different sizes (very weird).

  But as I was thinking, my stomach started rumbling (probably from the bacon and eggs Mom insisted I eat this morning), which was completely distracting, and by the time Mrs. Monteleone got to me, I’d only thought about things I obviously couldn’t say about myself and how much I wished I hadn’t eaten the bacon.

  “Um, my name is April Sinclair.” I looked down and picked a fleck of dirt off my freshly washed jeans. I knew I wasn’t being interesting. “I’m on the dance team.” Slightly more interesting. “And I’m really excited about high school.” Ugh. Uninteresting, bordering on pathetic. That was enough. I looked at Mrs. Monteleone and pressed my lips together like I was done.

  Fortunately, she picked up on my cue. “Thank you, April. I’m excited you’re here too.”

  I ignored a stray giggle coming from the back of the classroom and focused on Mrs. Monteleone’s chin. From where I was sitting, it looked like there was a hair sprouting out of it, which I later confirmed with Julia Lozano, who has Mrs. Monteleone for second period history, is in fact the case. Writing that makes me feel pathetic, like noticing my homeroom teacher’s chin hair was the most interesting thing that happened to me today.

  The rest of my day was just so very predictable. I found out who’s in all my classes. I have bio with Sophie. Algebra with Brynn. English with Sophie and Billy. History with Emily. I ate lunch. I was assigned a locker. I got my student ID card.

  Nothing bad happened, but nothing good happened either. Everything fell into the nonmemorable shade of gray category, even the picture on my ID, which did nothing to highlight my soft skin or naturally good-smelling breath and made my bad features (misshapen nose/hair that tends to frizz) look worse than usual. The day made me feel very mediocre, especially in contrast to Sophie. As we walked home after school, she was literally brimming with excitement. “I love Faraway High,” she said.