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Dear Dumb Diary #6: The Problem with Here Is That it's Where I'm From (Dear Dumb Diary Series)

Page 4

by Jim Benton


  I guess I had never noticed this before, but

  since Isabella comes from a big family, she was

  born with a lot more people to be not nice to than

  I was. That thought calmed me down a little. Plus, I

  was giggling about the wadded panties.

  Aunt Carol said that we wouldn’t find any

  graffiti in the teachers’ bathroom anyway, since

  teachers have better things to do than write on

  walls all day —except I couldn’t help but think

  that’s exactly what they do.

  64

  The teachers’ bathroom was pretty much like

  a regular person’s bathroom, except for the big can

  of air freshener on the toilet tank, which means

  that they have totally given up on trying to make

  people think that they aren’t stinking it up in there.

  As you get older, I think you give up on impressing

  others a little every year.

  Like my dad has given up enough to go

  outside in his pajamas to get the newspaper, but

  he’s not as old as my grandpa, who has given up

  enough to mow the lawn butt-naked if Grandma

  doesn’t stop him.

  Anyway, we couldn’t find any real graffiti,

  except that Isabella found a little tiny heart with

  an arrow through it that said D. D.+V. A. This

  didn’t really mean anything to me, but Isabella

  says the D. D. is for sure Dan Devon (Assistant

  Principal Devon), and the V. A. could be Valerie

  Anderson, my art teacher who is pretty enough

  to be a waitress. She’s the one who tried to steal

  Assistant Principal Devon from my aunt Carol.

  I figured it would be best to just wipe it off

  and not even tell Aunt Carol about it, and Isabella

  agreed. So she went out and asked Aunt Carol for

  some cleaner and a rag and then told her exactly

  what it was for, including the arrow through the

  heart —which makes it a much bigger deal than if it

  was just a heart alone.

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  Later on, we saw Aunt Carol and Assistant

  Principal Devon YELL-WHISPERING at each

  other. You know that kind of whispering you do when

  you want to yell but you also want to try to keep it

  private? It sounds like little dogs with sore throats

  fighting inside a bag.

  As smart as Isabella is, I’m really surprised at

  her sometimes. How could she have missed how this

  would make Aunt Carol react?

  67

  Tuesday 17

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Boy, oh boy. More culture stuff today. Mr.

  Evans talked about little phrases of wisdom

  like, THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER ON

  THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FENCE. He said

  these can illustrate the values of a culture. He

  asked what we thought the Grass-Is-Greener

  one meant, and I said it means that your dad is

  about as good at lawn care as mine.

  This only got me one throb of the forehead-

  vein. Maybe a throb and a half, so I was probably

  pretty close to the right answer.

  Just like he did with the haiku, Mr. evans asked

  us to write down our favorite phrase in class. Also

  like the haiku, he made us read them out loud.

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  Here’s a sample of what we said:

  Angeline: YOU CAN’T JUDGE A BOOK

  BY ITS COVER.

  Me: A BIRD IN THE HAND IS WORTH

  TWO IN THE BUSH.

  Isabella: WHOEVER SMELT IT, DEALT IT.

  But Mr. Evans said that really wasn’t a

  phrase of wisdom exactly, so Isabella quickly

  offered:

  WHOEVER DENIED IT, SUPPLIED IT.

  Evans said, “WRONG AGAIN,” and

  Isabella tossed out:

  WHOEVER LOOKS THE MOST AT

  EASE IS THE ONE WHO CUT THE CHEESE.

  And:

  WHOEVER SMILES OR LAUGHS OUT

  LOUD IS THE ONE THAT MADE THE

  CLOUD.

  I know for a fact that Isabella has a lot of

  wisdom on this theme, but Mr. Evans didn’t give her

  a chance to share it all. He just throbbed and asked

  Colette for hers.

  Colette stood up to read her phrase of

  wisdom, swinging her hair around like some

  glorious, inky-black vampire cape. “I don’t really

  have one, Mr. Evans, but I wanted to say you’re

  all really lucky to go to this school, and thanks

  for helping us out while they fix our ventilation

  system.” And she flashed this grin that made

  Angeline’s famous smile look like a banana peel

  hurriedly stuck on a dirty snowman for a mouth.

  Mr. Evans didn’t know what to say. I think

  he was temporarily charmed. I think the whole class

  was. She was good. And it was during that pause

  that Angeline did something REALLY weird.

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  She stood up and said that she wanted to

  give Mr. Evans a status report on how our

  graffiti project was going, and before Evans could

  even say okay, she showed the whole class the

  graffiti pictures including the ones that said VOTE

  JAMIE KELLY FOR PRETTIEST.

  I got some applause and an OH YEAH,

  DAT’S RIGHT ! (thanks, Isabella) and I blushed.

  Angeline just smiled and put the pictures back in

  her folder.

  See how confident she is that she can’t lose?

  She’ll even tell people to vote for me, knowing full well

  that they’ll vote for her. How mean can you get?

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  Wednesday 18

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Aunt Carol stopped by after school today and

  FINALLY asked me to take care of the voting stuff.

  She seemed a little twitchy, and later Mom

  told me that planning a wedding is complicated,

  and it’s making Aunt Carol a little flustered.

  When Mom left the room, Dad summed it up

  by saying that the wedding is driving Aunt Carol

  insane and that soon Mom will be driven insane and

  everyone on Earth will also be insane if they don’t

  just hurry up and get this over with.

  I doubt that Dad will be writing greeting

  cards anytime soon.

  Even though it was late, I called Isabella to

  tell her that Aunt Carol had finally offered up the

  voting and she went, “YES, ” the same way Dad

  does when some guy on one of his sports shows

  sinks a goal or pulls a groin or touches a down or

  whatever.

  72

  I used my accent a little at school today, and

  I also tried it on Mom and Dad tonight. Mom just

  said it wasn’t nice to talk like that. Dad laughed at

  first, and then Mom shot him this dirty look and he

  repeated what Mom said.

  Mom’s wrong, but I think Dad has just

  learned, like Stinker did, that sometimes it’s much

  easier on your neck not to pull on the leash.

  Oh, one more thing. I noticed Colette prettily

  sharpening her pencil today. Actually, a few of us

  noticed her doing it.

  Do pretty girls take special classes where

  they learn to do everything prettily? Or is Colette

  just na
turally more appetizing because her name is

  French?

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  74

  And speaking of Stinker, it seems like he is

  beginning to understand my accent. This makes me

  think that he is very, very smart, or, even likelier,

  has a brain problem. I forget the formula for

  determining how old a dog is exactly, but in dog

  years, I’m pretty sure that Stinker is dead already.

  Thursday 19

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Isabella looked awful today. She was up most

  of the night getting the voting categories together,

  and she came in an hour and a half early to use

  the copier in the office to make enough ballots for

  everyone. I thought this was something we were

  going to do together—but Isabella said she found

  out that the Wodehouse kids are going back next

  week and she wanted them to be included in the

  voting. Isabella is so considerate.

  75

  Here’s what the rules are:

  76

  And here are the categories Isabella came

  up with:

  Most Artistic

  Most Clever

  Prettiest Girl

  Cutest Boy

  Funniest

  Best Friends

  She wanted to have DISGUSTINGEST,

  STINKIEST, and DUMBEST, but she says she

  knows that the school would never allow those

  categories, and they would take the voting project

  away from her. I can’t imagine how hard it was for

  Isabella not to put those mean categories on there.

  It shows how nice she really is.

  77

  They announced the voting and where to get

  the ballots, and that they had to be turned in to the

  office by Friday afternoon. Isabella and I will count

  them, put the results together, and announce the

  winners next Friday.

  Friday 20

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  All day, people asked us to call them early

  and tell them what the results were before anybody

  else found out. I had no idea there was so much

  pressure on the government, which is kind of what

  we are now that we are in charge of voting. I told

  Isabella that stress like this is probably what turned

  Washington’s hair white, but she said that was just

  a wig he wore.

  Can you believe that? Plus, of all the wig

  colors he could have chosen, he went with the

  platinum blond. For sure, now Lincoln— a

  brunette and proud of it —is my favorite

  president.

  79

  Angeline stopped by my house this afternoon

  and dropped off the boys’ bathroom pictures that

  my mom had asked to see. She wasn’t even polite

  enough to stick her nose into our business about the

  voting. It’s because she’s so confident that she’s

  going to win, which is a pretty rude thing to know.

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  81

  Isabella is sleeping over tonight, but she had

  no interest in crank calls or accent practice. All she

  wanted to do was count votes. She went over them

  a few times and wouldn’t let me see. Then she said

  she wanted to go over all of them again tomorrow

  because there were a couple of things she didn’t

  quite understand.

  82

  Saturday 21

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Angeline didn’t call this morning, which

  would have been nice, except it was her that didn’t

  do it. And I woke up early anyway. She got me all

  used to her calls and then stopped calling. Leave it

  to Angeline to wake you up without actually doing it.

  Mom looked at the pictures we took and

  didn’t have any complaints. I’ll give them back to

  Angeline on Monday.

  Isabella was making little diagrams and

  puzzling over the ballots most of the day. She took

  time out for only a couple of crank calls, but really I

  don’t think her heart was in them.

  83

  Isabella was still refusing to share the

  voting results with me by the afternoon, and when

  I pointed out that the project was supposed to go

  to Aunt Carol who is MY AUNT, she said that we

  never would have gotten our hands on them if it

  hadn’t been for the things Isabella had done.

  And then Isabella admitted what she had

  done. I’m telling you, it seems like Isabella is

  ALWAYS admitting something. Although it’s

  beginning to sound more like bragging and less like

  a confession every time.

  Turns out that Isabella has been freaking out

  Aunt Carol about the wedding since she found

  out that she had been given the responsibility for

  the voting. Isabella got her all frazzled about the

  schedule for the wedding and her weight. She made

  up the stuff about wedding pies and bridal clogs.

  And she was the one that faked the little heart

  graffiti in the teachers’ bathroom.

  84

  Isabella says that it’s super easy to freak out

  adults when they’re planning something as big as a

  wedding. And she said she knew it would only take

  a little bit of extra stress to make Aunt Carol turn

  over the voting project to us.

  “And you’ll notice that I was right, and that’s

  why I always win Most Clever,” she said, and

  then smiled that smile that always comes with a big

  crack of thunder in movies.

  85

  Still, it was kind of mean to manipulate Aunt

  Carol that way. But I suppose no real harm was done.

  Isabella helped me practice her grandma’s

  exotic accent, probably because she felt guilty

  about her little plan. Well, maybe not guilty. I’m

  not sure Isabella ever feels guilty.

  There should be a word for the kind of guilt

  people like Isabella feel: It’s guilt, but nowhere

  near as heavy. Maybe she gets Diet-Guilt.

  86

  Sunday 22

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Isabella slept over again last night. I didn’t

  exactly invite her, but she really wanted to stay, so

  we made a weekend out of it.

  She was already up and staring out the

  window when I woke up this morning. She was

  holding one of the pictures we took in the boys’

  bathroom.

  “Notice anything?” she asked.

  I noticed that it was a pretty good picture of

  Isabella making a pretty dumb face.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  87

  Nothing. In the background, you could see

  Angeline, who had her back turned, which gave you

  a good look at the back of her head and the back of

  her butt.

  Isabella put the picture away and showed me

  the ballots.

  Angeline got 100 votes for PRETTIEST.

  Colette got 90. I got 15. MAN! Can you

  believe that??

  “If it hadn’t been for Angeline’s

  campaigning . . . if it hadn’t been for the graffiti,”

  Isabella said. “If it hadn’t been for Angeline

  showing the pictures of the graffiti around, you
>
  wouldn’t have picked up those fifteen votes, and

  Colette would have won.”

  Then, Isabella packed up her stuff, took the

  ballots, and went home.

  Monday 23

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Aunt Carol drove me to school today and was

  in a much better mood than she had been last week.

  She said she had a Big Super-Fun Surprise,

  but wasn’t ready to share it just yet.

  You always have to be a little suspicious

  of things adults say are fun. If they designed

  amusement parks just for adults, they would look

  like this:

  88

  89

  Angeline sat with us at lunch today, and

  incredibly, so did Colette. This made some of the

  other popular kids sit at our table, which Isabella

  hardly even noticed, even though our regular table

  had taken on a much snazzier look. You could

  almost taste the cuteness in the air.

  I used my new accent a little, and some of

  the kids I don’t know very well tried to ignore it.

  They thought it was totally for real! How

  funny is that?

  Isabella started talking about how much she

  could use a little vacation, and how she wished

  there was a way to close the school for a few weeks.

  And Colette said, “That’s actually pretty easy

  to do.”

  Isabella looked Colette right in the eyes and

  then just stood up and walked out of the lunchroom

  and hardly talked the rest of the day.

  90

  91

  Tuesday 24

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Colette wasn’t in English today. In fact, none

  of the Wodehouse Middle-schoolers were in school

  today. It turns out that they’re gone; all plucked

  from our loving grasps like little flowers whose

 

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