Dear Dumb Diary #6: The Problem with Here Is That it's Where I'm From (Dear Dumb Diary Series)
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ventilation systems don’t stink anymore.
It’s at times like this that we have to ask
ourselves, WHO IS THE REAL VICTIM HERE?
And then right away we must answer ourselves,
JAMIE IS THE REAL VICTIM. If ourselves
answer any other way, then we need to tell
ourselves to just shut up.
Colette, with her gentle ability to make
Angeline less beautiful, combined with some skills
that actually seemed to frighten Isabella a little,
was a really good friend for us to own. Now she’s
gone, and it just doesn’t seem fair that there is
somebody that pretty that Angeline is not forced to
look at every single day.
Wednesday 25
Dear Dumb Diary,
I miss Colette already. She was well on her
way to being the most popular girl in our school.
They must love her over at Wodehouse Middle
School. I wonder if she would transfer permanently
to Mackerel if we offered her some bonuses.
92
Thursday 26
Dear Dumb Diary,
Aunt Carol called my house fi rst thing today
to see if I could do a favor for her at lunch. As it
turns out, she also wanted Isabella and Angeline to
help because, she said, she wants us all to be close
friends. Yuck, right?
Aunt Carol had to drive some student files
over to Wodehouse Middle School today, and she
wanted me to run in and deliver the files because
she’s been having some difficulty walking . . .
. . . because of her bridal clogs!
That’s right. She found some wooden clogs
somewhere and has been wearing them to try to get
her feet accustomed to them before the wedding. I
really should have said something.
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Aunt Carol parked the car and the three of us
took the folders inside. Wodehouse Middle School
looked exactly like Mackerel Middle School, but it
smelled different. It was hard to identify. Was it
school beef pâté? Boys’-bathroom-smell? Band-
aid found at the bottom of a public pool?
I figured that it was a lingering odor from
whatever they had to fix in the ventilation system.
We’d only gotten two steps through the door
when Isabella turned to Angeline and said, “I know
about the graffiti.”
Angeline made a face like she had prettily
swallowed a human fart.
“You wrote the VOTE FOR JAMIE stuff.
We saw the marker in your back pocket in the
pictures.”
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“That’s right,” I said, having no idea what
Isabella was right about. And then Angeline said
things I never thought I would ever hear escape
from her perfectly perfect mouth.
“Okay, I did,” Angeline said quietly. “But I’ve
washed it all off already. It was clear to me that
Colette would have beaten me any other way. I
mean, she’s gorgeous. But even so, I knew that I
could get enough votes for Jamie to split the vote.
“And of course she’d take the votes from
Colette, and not from me because people don’t
really know Colette. Her position as “prettiest” is
less stable than mine, because I win it every year.
Sometimes I believe people don’t even really think it
through. They probably just automatically vote for
me because they’re used to voting for me.”
96
“You know, it’s not like PRETTIEST is an
accomplishment,” Angeline said. “It’s just how you
look. Being pretty is the same as being ugly. It’s just
something you can’t really help.
“Jamie always wins MOST ARTISTIC and
you win MOST CLEVER. Those are real things.
PRETTIEST is so lame, but nobody ever considers
me for anything else. I just wasn’t about to let my
one lame category go.”
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Angeline had done this to make sure I took
away votes from Colette, because she knew I
wouldn’t take any from her!! Amazing!
“WHOA! Isabella. Maybe Angeline should
have won most clever,” I said, and Isabella just
shook her head sadly.
“No. Angeline doesn’t deserve it, either. Let’s
find the cafeteria,” she said.
99
The cafeteria was not hard to find.
Lunchrooms have a very distinctive sound. It’s
the sound of chairs sliding and vegetables being
thrown away.
When we got there, we asked the first kid we
saw where Colette was, figuring, like with Angeline,
everybody would know where she was.
“Colette?” he asked. “Do you mean Collie?
She’s over there, by herself.”
And there she was, just as he said, by
herself. Her black hair had lost its sheen, her
posture was a little timid, she was picking at her
sandwich, and seemed shocked to see us.
“What happened to you?” I asked as we sat
down next to her. “Did you know they’re calling you
‘Collie,’ like a dog?”
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But Isabella had other things on her mind.
“Cat food?” Isabella said to Colette, who dropped
her droopy head even more droopily.
“You figured it out,” she said.
“Not at first,” Isabella said, and then
explained. “It took a while to put it together. At
first, I just thought that Colette here was a master
at tormenting her brothers. She let me in on some
truly diabolical ways to turn spoiled cat food into
a major problem. Little by little, I suspected she
might have been the one that stunk out her own
school by somehow getting it into the ventilation
system. I even tried it on a small scale at my house
last week, and everybody had to stay at a hotel.
Except me, I stayed at Jamie’s.
“The other day at lunch when Colette said
how easy it would be to shut down a school, I knew
it was her.”
“YOU SHUT DOWN A SCHOOL????” I
said, horrifi ed. Angeline was just as stunned.
“The smell wasn’t supposed to last that long.
I used too much cat food. It was too spoiled. But it
wasn’t dangerous. Just stinky.”
“WHY???” Angeline asked. “Why did you
do it?”
But Isabella wasn’t done talking. “It was
because she didn’t want to do the school voting here
at Wodehouse, I think. But I still don’t know why.”
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Colette’s voice got real low and she told us
that one time at school her friend made her laugh
while she was eating lunch, and she shot spaghetti
out of her nose, and the teachers were afraid it
was an intestine or a vein or something, so the
school nurse had to come down to the lunchroom
and remove it while the entire world of her school
watched.
After that, she was up all night crying, and
was so tired the next day
that she fell asleep in
class with a permanent marker in her mouth and
it leaked and left a blue spot on her tongue that
still hasn’t come off. She said there were a bunch
of other things like that, and because of them,
she doesn’t have any friends, and she never wins
anything in the voting.
Can you believe it???? Colette IS
“that girl from another school” who we’ve
heard so much about!
105
“Wodehouse isn’t a bad school,” she said.
“In fact, there’s nothing wrong with here except it’s
where I’m from. Sorry I screwed up your voting. I just
wanted to win PRETTIEST for once.”
“But how did you know when we were doing
the voting at our school?” I asked.
“A good friend of my mom’s has a son at your
school. It just came up in conversation,” Colette said.
“What’s his name?”
Colette shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t
know. I don’t even know his mom’s name. I just call
her T.U.L.W.N.I.F. It stands for That Ugly
Lady Whose Name I Forget.”
We told her we were almost sure we knew
the kid.
Isabella pulled the ballots from her
backpack. “Colette, you didn’t win PRETTIEST.
Blondwad here figured out a way to beat you,”
Isabella said.
“I won MOST CLEVER,” she added, “but
I don’t want it if I don’t deserve it. You probably
deserve it more than me.”
It was strange to hear Isabella say that she
didn’t want something that she didn’t deserve.
That’s usually exactly what she wants most. And
now I understand why Isabella wanted to control
the voting: not so she could cheat, but so nobody
could cheat her. She’s sooooo suspicious.
And I think that Colette was especially
intriguing to Isabella. She had never met anybody
who knew as much about getting even with mean
brothers.
Isabella respected Colette, and I’m not
sure Isabella has ever felt respect for another
human being before. It weirded me out a little to
see it.
Then Colette said, “But Angeline
outsmarted me. And you figured it out. I hardly
think that makes me most clever.”
Isabella said she knew what to do, and we all
promised to go along with it. We all knew what that
meant.
“BROKE A PROMISE TO ISABELLA”
is something we could all easily imagine on our
tombstones.
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Friday 27
Dear Dumb Diary,
Isabella revealed the results of the vote in
school today. Angeline and I were there. We were
only interested in a couple of categories, and we
watched as Isabella posted them one at a time on
the bulletin board outside the office.
Sally won for MOST CLEVER. Not Angeline,
not Colette, and not Isabella. Sally is really smart,
and that’s a lot like clever.
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Margaret won for MOST ARTISTIC, and
she smiled so hard that her ugliness magically
vanished. Like I said, her little chewed-pencil
sculptures are grossly impressive. Isabella
whispered to us that I really got the most votes,
but I can’t win in two categories. Plus, she said, I
almost won for FUNNIEST, which I never would
have expected.
108
I didn’t even see my name until Isabella
posted the one for BEST FRIENDS: JAMIE,
ANGELINE, ISABELLA.
We looked at Isabella for the explanation,
even though Angeline was making such high little
squeals, I just knew that not only could she easily
make a dog pee if one was here, but if she didn’t
stop soon, we were in danger of Margaret — who was
a bit overexcited — letting loose.
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Isabella took a deep breath before she
explained herself.
“I didn’t have a lot of options,” she began.
“We all deserve to win SOMETHING. We all had
the votes to get SOME kind of prize.
“Officially, Angeline did win for PRETTIEST.
But she kind of cheated, and the way she cheated
could have gotten her the prize for MOST CLEVER,
even though I got the votes for it. So, what else could
I do? Colette probably deserved it most, but she
didn’t get the votes.”
Isabella reached into her backpack and pulled
out a card. “This is why we’re BEST FRIENDS.”
Isabella posted the card for PRETTIEST. It said
Colette.
“It doesn’t mean exactly that we’re each
other’s best friends, but we are, for sure, the best
friends that Colette has . . . for now.”
Isabella had really come through for a
foreigner. I guess it was because she got to know
Colette.
“They’ll hear about this over at Wodehouse
Middle School,” Angeline said. “Things will change
for Colette. You’re right, Isabella: We are Colette’s
best friends.” Angeline knows what she’s talking
about, of course. It’s hard to imagine a bigger
expert on the effects of prettiness.
“But best of all,” Angeline giggled, “is that
I’m NOT THE PRETTIEST THIS YEAR!” And
she squealed and squirmed and jumped up and down.
“But I am a BEST FRIEND!!!! And that’s
something!” Angeline squeaked and then
nearly floored us with the smothering beauty of her
HUGE SMILE. Winning for something other than
PRETTIEST was the best thing she could have
hoped for, and kind of what I was hoping for her, too.
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“But just out of curiosity,” I said to Angeline.
“How could you be so sure that I wouldn’t win for
prettiest?”
Angeline laughed a little. “Well, for one
thing, there’s that voice you’ve been doing.”
“You mean my Italian accent?”
Then Angeline really laughed. “That’s not
an Italian accent. I speak Italian,” she said. “My
Italian tutor has an Italian accent.”
I turned to Isabella, who just shrugged.
“Wait a second. Your grandma doesn’t have
an Italian accent?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” Isabella said. “She was born
three miles from here. She talks like that because
her dentures are broken, and she’s too cheap to get
them fixed. They’re held together with tape — Hey! —
I’ll bet that’s why you almost won for FUNNIEST.
You said you wanted an accent. I fi gured a speech
impediment was about the same thing.”
It’s true. Isabella doesn’t like people from
other places. She does think of accents as speech
impediments.
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I was just getting ready to let Isabella have it
when Aunt Carol limped out of the office to read the
names on the bulletin board. She saw the three of
us listed as best frie
nds and gave us a giant four-
way hug. “This is so perfect,” she said. Then she
pulled us into the offi ce, where she gave us each
a beautifully wrapped present. Assistant Principal
Devon (Angeline’s uncle and Aunt Carol’s loverboy)
was standing there, grinning.
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Aunt Carol was a little weepy-eyed. “Jamie,
you’re my favorite niece, and Angeline, after your
uncle and I get married, I just know you’re going
to be my other favorite niece. Isabella, you’re
best friends with both of my favorite nieces, which
makes you a best friend of mine. And without your
expert advice, I just know my wedding wouldn’t be
what it should be.”
Aunt Carol was so emotional, for a second I
was sure she was going to tell us she had some sort
of horrible disease. But it turned out to be much
worse.
She said, “Girls, I want you to be my
bridesmaids.” Angeline’s squeals got even higher
and louder, and I saw Margaret run down the hall.
Leave it to Angeline to figure out a way to pee
somebody else’s pants for them.
116
Then we opened our presents. They were
clogs. Aunt Carol said she couldn’t find any so-
called bridal clogs, but she’s sure these are close
enough, and if we wear them a little bit every day,
our feet should stop bleeding by the wedding.
As we tried them on, it got worse. Aunt Carol
brought out a sketch made by her dressmaker. It
was of our bridesmaid gowns. You guessed it: They
were brown and poofy. Very very poofy.
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Saturday 28
Dear Dumb Diary,
Isabella offered to make Aunt Carol and
Assistant Principal Devon break off their engagement
so we don’t have to wear the clogs. She was sure
that she could make it happen in about a week.