by Kami Kinard
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Monday, January 1
Tuesday, January 2
Wednesday, January 3
Thursday, January 4
Friday, January 5
Sunday, January 7
Monday, January 8
Tuesday, January 9
Wednesday, January 10
Thursday, January 11
Friday, January 12
Saturday, January 13
Sunday, January 14
Tuesday, January 16
Wednesday, January 17
Thursday, January 18
Friday, January 19
Saturday, January 20
Sunday, January 21
Monday, January 22
Tuesday, January 23
Wednesday, January 24
Thursday, January 25
Friday, January 26
Saturday, January 27
Sunday, January 28
Monday, January 29
Tuesday, January 30
Wednesday, January 31
Thursday, February 1
Saturday, February 3
Sunday, February 4
Monday, February 5
Tuesday, February 6
Wednesday, February 7
Thursday, February 8
Friday, February 9
Saturday, February 10
Sunday, February 11
Monday, February 12
Tuesday, February 13
Wednesday, February 14
Thursday, February 15
Friday, February 16
Saturday, February 17
Sunday, February 18
Monday, February 19
Tuesday, February 20
Wednesday, February 21
Thursday, February 22
Friday, February 23
Saturday, February 24
Sunday, February 25
Monday, February 26
Tuesday, February 27
Wednesday, February 28
Thursday, March 1
Friday, March 2
Saturday, March 3
Sunday, March 4
Monday, March 5
Tuesday, March 6
Friday, March 9
Sunday, March 11
Monday, March 12
Thursday, March 15
Friday, March 16
Saturday, March 17
Sunday, March 18
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Monday, January 1
Bedtime
I am starting this experiment because I have no choice. Well, I have no choice unless you consider being a lifelong boyfriendless social outcast destined to die alone a choice. Which it isn’t.
To be honest with you, I probably would have acted sooner if I’d known how truly desperate my situation was. Which I didn’t.
I was really in the dark about it. As dark as the closet I went into with Chip Tyler last night after he spun the bottle and it pointed to me.
Chip Tyler is a total dweeb. I’ve known him since kindergarten. I’ve grown up a lot since then. Chip hasn’t. So I wasn’t exactly hoping that I would end up in the closet with Chip on New Year’s Eve, but I guess I was a little excited that I might finally find out what it feels like to be kissed. But no. As soon as he shut the door behind us, he took my hand in his. Then he shook it. That’s all.
I’m not exactly glamorous, but it seems like Chip Tyler would jump at the chance to kiss anything with lips. I’m kind of outraged, to tell the truth, that he thought he was too good to kiss me. (Sometimes you have to be outraged to keep from getting hurt.) I mean, what girl walks away from a game of spin the bottle with a handshake? A handshake!
Even Tabbi, my slightly plump, slightly spacey BFF finally got to experience lip-to-lip contact when she went into the closet with James Powalski, whose parents have apparently lost their senses of smell. If they hadn’t, they’d have invested a few bucks in sticks of deodorant waaaaay back in sixth grade. Seriously.
But Tabs, who was completely thrilled by the experience, said his BO didn’t bother her because you don’t breathe all that much when kissing anyway. Right. Now she’s an expert.
Being jealous of Tabbi and her one-minute kiss with someone who smells worse than my dad’s genuine lamb’s wool slippers (which at this point have both the appearance and aroma of roadkill) is a new low for me.
When I came home after that disaster of a party, it hit me like a broom handle whacking a piñata: I’ve never had a boyfriend — not even the holding-hands variety — and practically everyone else has. And it probably wasn’t the healthiest thing to do for my self-esteem, but I made a list. Then created a chart. I didn’t like the way they turned out at all.
Here’s what that looks like on a pie chart.
I know that making lists and charts is kinda geeky, but I faced the fact that I am kinda geeky a long time ago. How could I avoid coming to that conclusion when every adult in my life keeps telling me I’m smart, nice, and artistic? Smart, nice, artistic girls recognize these compliments as things adults can say when they can’t say you’re pretty, graceful, or cute — and they’re too polite to say the opposite. Unfortunately, when you’re twelve, being smart is small consolation for being the ONLY girl in your class who’s never had a boyfriend.
To make matters worse, I’m also the only person in my ENTIRE family who has never been kissed.
I drew this picture of us in the stick-figure-rear-window-decal style, thinking I’d convince Dad to let us put one on the car like everyone else in America. My plan didn’t work. “No good can come out of the general public knowing that two young ladies ride around in this particular vehicle,” Dad said.
I think he’s wrong about that. I think a lot of good can come out of it, especially if some of the single males in the general public notice it and decide to follow our car! What’s wrong with a little advertising? It’s not like I want to put a babes on board sign in the back window!
Anyway, I was just pointing out that EVERYONE else in my family has been kissed. And, okay, it’s a given that all parents have kissed and more. (Not that I want to think about that!) But do I have to have a cute older sister who’s left a trail of boyfriends in her dust ever since second grade?
It’s not fair! Particularly because Julie and I actually kinda look alike. We really do! People are always saying stuff like “You two have got to be sisters.” It’s kind of funny, but they act like they’ve just solved a big old mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes when really they just glanced at us and noticed some similarities. Neither of us has straight hair, for example, but Julie’s hair is usually described as wavy. Actually, since she keeps it in a perpetual ponytail, it’s more like one big curving swoop. My hair, on the other hand, is often described as frizzy. Like clown hair. Or a witch’s broom.
And lucky Julie got Dad’s green eyes. Mom tries to fool me into thinking I’m the lucky one because my eyes are “the best of both worlds,” meaning I got some of Dad’s green and some of Mom’s brown. Most people describe this color as hazel, which is a word for green with brown dots flecked in it. Like mud.
So while I admit that I’m not exactly as cute as Julie, at least I’m similarly cute. Plus, sisters have something like 99.9 percent of the exact same DNA! And Julie is obviously attractive to the opp
osite sex, so I must be at least 99.9 percent as attractive. Since she’s had tons of boyfriends, it only stands to reason that I’d have had at least one.
Unfortunately, it looks like reason has very little to do with having boyfriends.
There has to be a scientific explanation for this!
See, I know all about scientific explanations. After all, Ms. Sabatino started blabbing about the “scientific method” back in December so we could “use the whole winter break to work on our science fair projects.” Come on. They aren’t due until February. Even geek girls don’t use vacation time to study stuff like velocity. (Unless the experiment involves measuring how fast a desperate girl can run toward a cute boy.)
Still, I was trying to pay really close attention in science before the break, because Mom and Dad said if I could pull off all A’s this semester, they’d get me unlimited texting! Apparently they “can’t comprehend” how I can have A’s in my other classes, and a C in science.
“You love reading,” my dad said. “Science is just reading and memorizing.”
The man has a point. But he doesn’t get that I read because I want to escape to all kinds of cool places. Science is one of those places I’d like to escape from.
I try to concentrate, I really do. I sit there dutifully taking notes with my brain train chugging along just fine toward some place like Destination Understanding Plant Life. Then Ms. Sabatino will mention some word like chloroplasts and it’s like she’s thrown a switch. All of a sudden my engine is steaming off in another direction, like to Destination How to Make a Bracelet from Plumbing Hardware.
But luckily when Ms. S talked about the science fair this year, she used a word that I always tune in to: project. And when she said that word, I suddenly imagined myself winning the entire science fair! Then I realized that if I could bring home that big blue ribbon, it would practically guarantee me an A in science, therefore unlimited texting! So I made it my New Year’s resolution to WIN the Spring Valley Middle School science fair!
That was two weeks ago.
Now I am officially abandoning this resolution.
My new, more important resolution is this: I, Kara McAllister, will change my image before the end of the school year. By “change my image” I mean “get a boyfriend.” And I know exactly how I’m going to do it:
I’ll apply both my smart-girl brains and the scientific method to the project. Hey, if the scientific method helped real scientists figure out the structure of an atom, surely it can help me figure out how to find a boyfriend!
Ms. Sabatino made us write down the steps of the scientific method so we’d be able to follow them for our science fair projects. I copied them onto a note card, then taped it in here so I wouldn’t lose it.
The small size of index cards makes them perfect for inconspicuously taking notes on my subjects (boys) in their natural setting (school). The scientific term for this is unobtrusive observation. To tell the truth, I was glad to learn that this was a real method, because I was pretty much going to use this strategy anyway. What method of research could possibly be easier? All you have to do is be a little sly while looking around and make sure not to gawk or anything. Hopefully my observations will help me figure out what I need to do to change my status.
Piece of cake!
I’ll be the seventh-grade version of Jane Goodall, except I’ll be observing boys instead of chimps. Not that there’s a huge difference.
Tuesday, January 2
First period
I arrived at school today armed with index cards, my pen, this journal, and the determination to get a social life. Or at least a boyfriend.
So it was pretty hard to concentrate while Mrs. Willis was lecturing about the Civil War. Again. Today the topic was General Lee at Gettysburg. I was looking around at the guys in my class and taking mental notes while she talked.
Now that I’m observing them as a researcher, I’m noticing things that I’ve never noticed before. Malcolm Maxwell was doodling on his Chucks the entire time Mrs. Willis was talking, for example. Does he do that every day? I wouldn’t know. I am usually paying way too much attention to what the teacher is saying.
I also noticed Chip Tyler putting tiny pieces of paper into the curly hair of Dianna Leroy. See how mature he is? The back of her head was practically white, but she didn’t seem to feel a thing. It was weirdly fascinating to watch. A lot of other people seemed to think so, too.
When Mrs. W finished talking, she made us write three paragraphs from the point of view of a soldier following Lee as he retreated back to Virginia. I turned in my paper first.
Normally, I’d pull out whatever book I’m trying to escape into at this point. This week it happens to be Bras and Broomsticks, which is a book about a girl whose little sister is a witch. A real one. But the good kind. Anyway, the older sister wants to improve her social life, so she convinces her kid sis to use her magical powers to help. What I wouldn’t give for a sister with useful skills like that! But since I’m stuck with Julie, whose only skill seems to be making me look like the second-best sister, I am forced to take matters into my own hands. Which meant it was time to seriously study. Study boys.
I looked around. Who should be my very first subject? Cool Phillip Bernard? Nice Evan Carlson? Handsome Alex Brantley?
“Kara McAllister! Keep your eyes on your own paper!” snapped Mrs. W.
What? She thought I was cheating?! I politely told her I’d already turned in my paper.
“Then get out a book and read. Stop looking around at your friends.” Everyone did the stare-at-whoever-is-being-yelled-at thing, so my face started heating up like it does when I eat Mouth of Hades chili at Texas Steakranch. In my head I could hear Lee yelling, “Retreat! Retreat!” But there wasn’t anywhere for me to go.
So much for unobtrusive observation.
Thankfully, Dianna stood up just then and a blizzard of paper snow fell from her head. That drew attention away from me in a big way. Poor Dianna.
Third period
I was trying to be objective about which guy to study first, but I think, deep down, I already knew it’d be Evan Carlson. I’ve known him since kindergarten and have had a crush on him for months.
What’s really great about Evan is that, even though he’s gotten a lot cuter over the past year, he’s just as nice as ever. (Not like some people, who, once they start getting a little attention, act like they never used to play tag with you every single day.) Evan still looks right at me with his big gray eyes when we talk, and he has this gorgeous smile, even if he does wear braces.
Since Evan is so nice, it makes me wonder: WHY DON’T I HAVE THE GUTS TO GO TALK TO HIM? I am NEVER going to find a boyfriend if I can’t even make myself talk to a nice guy I’ve known for over seven years!
At least I’ll have an excuse to study him now. I pulled out a note card and jotted down my observations, and then taped it in here for safekeeping.
Bedtime (According to my parents, not me)
I managed to gather some more data today. This was because we had a sub in third period, which pretty much meant we could do whatever we wanted. Quietly. And I wanted to do some unobtrusive observing.
I slumped down in my chair, pulled the hood of my hoodie over my head, and held my index cards under my desk so I could write without anyone seeing. It worked! No one noticed me at all. I was so successful at going unnoticed that it was kind of depressing. . . .
I figured since I made my crush Subject #1, I should make Tabbi’s crush Subject #2, even though she is wasting her time longing for the totally unobtainable Alex Brantley. He’s the best-looking boy in school. And guys like that never go for girls like Tabbi. I’m not being mean! He wouldn’t go for a girl like me, either. It’s like he’s a different species or something.
Besides, even if he did show interest in Tabbi, it wouldn’t do her any good
because Alex’s girlfriend, Colleen, will claw the eyes out of anyone who comes between them. She has the nails to do it, too. Trust me. They’re long, gorgeous, and manicured. My nails have never looked that good! The only thing I’ve ever managed to get a good coat of nail polish on was a wooden pencil. I have to admit, it did jazz it up! Especially after I stuck those little rhinestones around the eraser. There’s something super-satisfying about transforming an everyday object like a pencil into a fabulous writing tool.
I guess Colleen feels the same way about her nails. You can tell she’s proud of them because she’s always clicking them together, drawing attention to how glam they are. Tabbi and I make up names for girls like Colleen and when it came to picking her name, I was arguing for “Keyboard.” All that nail clicking makes it sound like she’s constantly typing.
But Tabbi said “Maybelline” was more appropriate because in addition to wearing perfect polish, Colleen also wears a ton of makeup. Not that she needs it. She’s really pretty. She actually needs makeup less than the rest of us . . . but she wears more of it. Her lips are always rosy. Her eyelids — pale green. Tabbi claimed the name Maybelline covered the nails AND face, but Keyboard only the nails. I guess she’s right. It wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t though. She never backs down.
Speaking of Tabbi, she’s calling now. . . .
Bedtime. I admit it.
Just got off the phone, but only because Tabbi’s mom came and yanked hers out of her hand. She’s waaaay strict about bedtime.
Tabbi and I had the usual conversation. It always goes something like this:
Tabs: Do you think he’ll dump her?
Me: No.
Tabs: Ever?
Me: Nope.
Tabs: But he’s been with her since fifth grade. Don’t you think one day he’ll wake up and see how awful she is?
Me: Tabs, guys like that don’t try to see more than the surface. Maybelline may be mean, but she’s gorgeous.
Tabs: (Groan) So is he.