by Rachel Vail
It might have been beating me up, come to think of it, except he was smiling and saying that I rock.
November 25, Wednesday
Montana C. was a very good sport.
She congratulated me yesterday, and today she brought in candies in the shape of turkeys and she gave even me some.
It was disgusting candy but still it was a nice gesture.
I should have voted for her, probably. Ms. Termini said in her instructions to vote for the person you think would make the better representative of our class on student council.
I broke that rule.
I voted for myself.
Breaking rules is quite a way to start my career in politics.
November 26, Thursday
When we went around the table saying what we felt thankful for, the only thing I could think of was, “I am thankful it is almost time to get out of here, and that we didn’t end up moving to New Jersey after all.”
I knew that would be asking for time-out for the rest of the year, or possibly no screen time until I turn 21. So I said, “I am thankful to be here with my family in New Jersey,” and I kept all my fingers crossed under the table.
My little cousins may not be human. I think they are some other species entirely. They chase each other around constantly, yapping and screeching, and then their mother, Auntie Bryn, screeches at them to stop, but she talks in a whole nother language. I think it may be baby talk, but my cousins (Dylan and Dermot) are not babies, they are four and five.
So maybe it’s just alien language.
At the table they were having trouble sitting still so Auntie Bryn gave them spoons to smash into plates, each other, and me.
Then one of them — I think it was Dermot but it is hard to tell because they look exactly alike (both have crew cuts and wild eyes where you can see the white all the way around)—grabbed my Jell-O off my plate. With his bare hands. And slammed some of it into his mouth and let the rest dribble down his chin.
His mom screeched, “Honey bunny, no touchy-touchy! Justin is still nibble-bibbling on his canoodly-bops!” Or something like that.
I had my eyes closed so I wouldn’t throw up.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m done.”
It was the first true thing I had said the whole Thanksgiving.
November 27, Friday
We slept over.
At my crazy cousins’.
I am officially not speaking to my parents.
I am also officially over moving to New Jersey.
November 28, Saturday
I know that she thought it would be a special treat.
I just don’t know why she thought that.
Now Mom is very sorry about the whole thing. I think especially because it gave Dad a terrible migraine so he locked himself in a room alone while we were there until Mom finally packed us up and said we had to get home.
Dad went for a very long run, alone, when we got home.
I’m thinking maybe Mom is softened up for a dog.
November 29, Sunday
I have to remember to never ask Mom for something when her bottom teeth are jutting out in front of the top ones.
Especially a dog.
She is usually calm but not all the time, apparently.
November 30, Monday
I am not the only one in my family with worries.
Elizabeth was the one nursery-school kid out of her whole class last year who could not sing “Jingle Bells” at the holiday concert. She turned sort of bluish and cried in Mom’s lap the entire time. When one of the other moms suggested that maybe Mom ought to get Elizabeth to toughen up a bit, Mom gave her a laser stare and said, “Thank you for your advice.”
I thought that other mom might start to cry herself.
It was awesome.
So when we had an assembly today and the principal made his big announcement about the holiday concert, my only thought was Poor Elizabeth must be freaking out.
It even kept me from freaking out myself.
I guess that’s just part of being a big brother—sometimes you forget your own panics because you feel that protective of your little sister.
I was a tiny bit proud of that feeling. It made me realize I am really growing up.
December 1, Tuesday
Just when you think you know a person, that person gets a personality transplant or something.
It could really shake a person’s faith in everybody.
December 2, Wednesday
Elizabeth will not shut up about the school holiday concert.
How excited she is about it.
It is really, really, really annoying.
I was almost even wishing she would get sent down to the Way-Back and then she would fall into The Boiler. And get all Boiled up. But then I felt really guilty. As annoying as she is, I wouldn’t actually want that to happen to her. Now if it does, I will feel guilty about it forever. I absolutely do NOT wish Elizabeth would go to the Way-Back of the basement and get Boiled. I want to be very, completely clear about that.
On the other hand, I would so trade her in for a dog.
Honestly, I would trade her in for a Brillo pad.
And I hate Brillo pads.
December 3, Thursday
Today we had our first meeting of student council.
The first 10 minutes, while we got lectured about what an honor it was for each of us to be on student council because our peers put their trust in us, I was kind of freaking out a little. It felt like way too much responsibility. What if I had to make a really important decision, and I decided the wrong thing? I could mess up the whole year for everybody! They would all hate me—possibly for the rest of my life. We’d be 50 years old and somebody would mention my name and everybody would be all like, Oh, yeah, that’s the guy who messed up elementary school for everybody with his stupid decision on student council in third grade. Why did we ever trust him with that huge responsibility?
Then I spent the next 10 minutes trying to think of something interesting about myself. Because we were going around the circle saying our name, our class, and something interesting about ourselves.
They didn’t say that would be part of the deal when we signed up to run, that there had to be something interesting about ourself.
Not that I had decided to run, but I didn’t have time to go there.
Two kids before me, all I had interesting about myself was I don’t have a dog and also a reminder to myself not to say, “Rarest Pus.”
What I ended up saying, in a very soft and shaky voice that didn’t sound even familiar, was “Justin K., 3B, um, some people call me Justin Case but I don’t really . . .”
Nobody heard the rest of what I said, including me.
Instead of listening to what was interesting about all the other student council kids or, after that, paying attention to the bazillion rules and requirements, I spent the rest of the time wishing I hadn’t gotten such a great honor and was out at recess with all the less honored kids.
December 4, Friday
Noah forgot his lunch.
His mom didn’t chase him to the classroom with it.
I said I would share mine, but he said that’s okay. He told Ms. Burns and she gave him some salad and baked ziti from the teachers’ room.
I am not so sure he actually forgot.
I think there might be a squished-up lunch hiding at the bottom of his backpack.
I bet Daisy would agree with me if she ever sat with me at lunch anymore.
December 5, Saturday
What I love about Saturdays in December is the total lack of soccer games.
A kid can just lie on the floor and play video games like a normal person, for goodness’ sake.
December 6, Sunday
Elizabeth will not stop practicing her line for the holiday concert.
Her line is, “And we, the kindergartners, welcome you!”
She has tried saying it three billion kajillion ways so far, and is showin
g no sign of being done saying it. If I get a line, which is the biggest thing I definitely hope I do not get, I might end up saying, “And we, the kindergartners, welcome you!” instead of whatever dopey line is my actual line.
Which would really do a lot for my popularity, let me tell you.
December 7, Monday
It is very hard for a person to concentrate in school when he has spent the night before having nightmares about a very dangerous criminal named Bad Boy breaking into his room and doing terribly violent things to his stuffties, who are basically defenseless (even the ones with teeth, because the teeth are soft and can’t do much harm despite their ferocious looks), and while he is torturing them, Bad Boy is saying in his horribly sinister voice, “And we, the kindergartners, welcome you!” over and over.
If I failed the spelling test, that is the exact reason.
It is totally Elizabeth’s fault.
Studying would not have helped, I swear.
December 8, Tuesday
Third graders do a dance for the holiday concert.
I am not even kidding.
A dance.
And guess who my partner is?
I absolutely have to get Bartholomew Wiggins to tell me how to sprain my ankle.
Because there is no way I am dancing in front of the whole school, including parents.
Especially with a partner named Montana C.
December 9, Wednesday
Instead of math today, we had dance practice.
And people wonder what is wrong with education in America.
December 10, Thursday
I don’t even want to think about student council. I don’t get it. It’s just an extra class so teachers who aren’t our real teachers can get a chance to yell at us to pay attention. When we should be playing Savers of the Universe so we won’t have less points than every other boy in the whole grade because of missing one out of every five recesses.
Although, during student council, I got a great idea. The idea is to invent a magic pencil that would read the short story tonight for me and then write a one-page reflection about what the story meant to me, in my own words and best handwriting.
That would save me so much time.
Now all I have to do is find Dad’s toolbox and make the magic pencil and I will be practically done with my responsibilities so I can finally relax.
December 11, Friday
Some people are so sensitive about their dumb toolboxes.
whatever happened to the whole idea of In Our Family We Share?
December 12, Saturday
Bananas is a very good President of the Bed. She really is trying to help everybody get along.
I think she is exhausted.
I am going to let her sleep on the Pillow of Honor tonight for all her hard work.
Wingnut, who usually gets to sleep on the Pillow of Honor, is pouting a little bit about Bananas getting to sleep there tonight, no matter how much I explain that the Pillow of Honor is a special treat and it doesn’t mean somebody is NOT good just because somebody else gets to sleep on it occasionally.
Sometimes, as much as I am still terrified of live dogs, I really do think it would be easier to cope with one actual live (drooling, licking, bounding around, maybe even growling . . . yikes . . . ) dog than these 87 stuffties, whose problems and complaints and personalities are constantly needing my attention.
December 13, Sunday
Noah came over for a playdate in the afternoon. He agrees that we should get a dog, and also that Snakey looks very suspicious. He suggested I keep a close eye on Snakey. I know he meant to be reassuring but that wasn’t, actually.
Mom said for goodness’ sakes, boys, why don’t you go outside it is a beautiful day don’t you want to play?
So we trudged outside and sat around for a while until we realized what to play. We played Lawyers in the Underworld, which we made up.
It was fun until it started to rain. Then we came inside and had a snack and wished for snow. I mean, it is December. It should snow, not rain.
We also wished I was in Noah’s class. When they do an especially good job, Ms. Burns gives them a reproduction. That means a poster of a famous painting. Noah already has four.
Noah’s partner for the dance is Daisy.
He is so lucky.
I couldn’t wait for him to go home already.
December 14, Monday
Well, that magic pencil would really have been a good invention.
I got a “see me” on my reflection paper.
So now I get to think about that all night.
Goody.
If I had a dog, I would whisper in its ear like I whisper in Wingnut’s ear. But a real dog would be a lot more protection than Wingnut, who is missing one eye (the left one) and has had stitches twice. Nothing against Wingnut, who is the sweetest dog in the world, but a real dog would be a big help falling asleep. If it were my own real dog, I would not be afraid of it—or maybe even other real dogs anymore—and I would know that dog would attack any bad guys or teachers who threatened me in any way.
That would be really cool.
Mom said, “Never say the word dog to me again.”
I tried to pin her down on specifics about the rule, like what if a big teeth-bared dog is running toward her, but she growled and showed her own teeth so I decided I would nail those rules down another time.
Hopefully before anything horrible happens that I could have prevented with that one word. Dog.
Dog dog dog.
I am whispering it to Wingnut, who thinks I might be crazy. Dog dog dogdogdogdogdogdog.
December 15, Tuesday
Turns out Ms. Termini liked my ideas.
My ideas made her think of the short story in a different way.
She wanted to be sure they were my own ideas, because she is not interested in Mom’s ideas or Dad’s ideas. She figures they already had their shot at third grade. She wants to hear my ideas.
They were my ideas.
She said I had a very interesting mind.
Then she gave me a Superstar.
Maybe Vincent van Gogh didn’t paint my Superstar, but I don’t care. I like it anyway. It feels just as valuable—or more, even though Xavier Schwartz got one later in the day for just raising his dumb hand finally. But I feel like I get the symbolic meaning of mine.
Maybe because of my interesting mind or something.
December 16, Wednesday
Now, because of my big fat interesting mind, I am in the highest reading group suddenly.
Now, instead of reading a thing and writing our reflection in one page, I have to read longer stuff and do projects.
Like write a haiku on the theme of change or winter, and a senryu about a topic of our choice. I don’t even know what the heck a senryu is.
Everybody else in my group got right down to it.
I was the only one sharpening my pencil twice and looking around at the other groups giggling about Xavier Schwartz and Gianni Schicci falling off their chairs and making monkey noises.
I never realized I could actually miss those guys.
December 17, Thursday
How much is there even to say about school spirit?
I mean, honestly. What even is that?
Student council is so dumb.
I shouldn’t have worried about making a bad decision. All I get to do is chew on my fingernails instead of play.
December 18, Friday
We spent the whole darn day rehearsing our dance.
Montana C. and I ended up stomping each other’s feet every time. She started out growling at me the first time it happened but then she kept doing it, too, so I growled back at her. We were more giggling than growling by the time we got our names called out by Mr. Calabrio. Then we got serious fast.
Ms. Burns sat us down and gave us a talk and told us we should think like snowflakes.
That makes no sense at all. Think like snowflakes?
Snowflakes have no b
rains. Hello.
Daisy made a confused face at me and I made one back.
That was nice.
Montana C. has sweaty palms.
Like me.
It was gross but kind of a relief.
Mostly gross, though. Definitely.
December 19, Saturday
I’m lucky my mom is Jewish and my dad is Christian so we celebrate everything. Today was the first day of Hanukkah. Gingy and Poopsie came over for it. Hanukkah is not a gift-giving holiday, really, but according to Gingy and Poopsie, it should be. I think they just like giving gifts.
Actually I think Poopsie really likes buying toys, but Gingy makes him give them to us.
We ate potato pancakes after the smoke alarm quieted down, and then everybody gave out presents. I got a stuffed manatee, which is exactly what I wanted, from Mom and Dad. Gingy and Poopsie gave me a book about knights with excellent pop-ups, and a huge LEGO with 437 pieces. Elizabeth got some other stuff; I don’t really know what—nothing I wanted, anyway.
The grown-ups all got clothes.
That is the major reason I am not so excited about the whole growing up idea.
December 20, Sunday
For Hanukkah today Elizabeth gave me a whoopee cushion that actually works.
It is the most excellent present she ever gave me.
It made me rethink hating her completely, until she started up again with the whole “And we, the kindergartners, welcome you!”