Planet Tad

by Tim Carvell

  At dinner, Sophie refused to eat her pork chop. She just kept poking it with her fork and saying, “Poor Dr. Piggington.” I felt a little bad for her, but on the other hand: more pork chops for me.

  Oh boy. Today, Sophie announced that she was going to be a vegetarian. She’s not going to eat anything made from animals—no hamburgers, no steaks, no pork chops, no bacon. She’s just going to eat chicken nuggets and vegetables. And then my mom pointed out that chicken nuggets are made from chickens, and Sophie kind of paused, but then she said, “OK, fine. I won’t eat chicken nuggets, either, then.” So tonight, we all had steak, and Sophie had cheese ravioli. She kept looking at us as we ate and saying “Moo” until my mom made her stop.

  For dinner tonight, my mom made turkey meatloaf, and just as we were all getting ready to eat it, Sophie said, “I’m not eating turkey!” And my mom sighed and said, “Oh! You’re still doing that?” And she had to get up and make Sophie some mac-and-cheese. Which would’ve been fine, but every once in a while, under her breath, Sophie would whisper, “Gobblegobblegobblegobble.” It sort of ruined dinner.

  It was nice out tonight, so my dad grilled hot dogs and hamburgers for dinner, except for Sophie, who got a veggie burger and a Tofu Pup. She let me try a bite of each of them, and the nicest thing I can say about them is, size- and shape-wise, they’re just like hot dogs and hamburgers. Taste-, texture-, and everything-else-wise, they’re pretty much like kitchen sponges. Sophie tried to make us feel guilty while she was eating, by saying “Woof!” and “Oink!”—which confused my parents for a little while. But then they explained to her that hot dogs and hamburgers don’t have any dogs or ham in them, and she started mooing.

  Sophie’s vegetarianism is beginning to annoy everyone. I could tell, because my mom made fish for dinner, and as she served it, she announced, “You know what noise a fish makes? None. Fish don’t make any noise at all.” Then she gave Sophie some beans and rice. But I’ll give Sophie credit: She ate her dinner really fast, then said, “May I be excused?” and went into the family room to watch Finding Nemo with the volume turned all the way up. My mom just rolled her eyes and said, “We’ve got to do something about this.”

  This morning, there was a nice surprise for breakfast: My mom made bacon for everyone. We all had some, except for Sophie, who got cold cereal. Which was too bad for her, because she loooooooves bacon. And then my mom said, “Oh! I accidentally made enough for four of us by mistake! I’ll just put the extra over here,” and put it down next to Sophie. I could see her looking at it all through breakfast, and it was driving her nuts. And finally, she said, “You know what? I bet not all pigs are nice. Maybe some pigs are really mean. And maybe some pigs deserve to die.” And then she started shoving the bacon in her mouth.

  Afterward, my mom and dad and I all agreed that it was a little scary and a little creepy. But, on the plus side, she’s not going to be mooing or oinking during dinner anymore, and that’s a really good thing.

  Went to the mall today and walked by the Build-a-Bear Workshop. I don’t understand why anyone goes there. The mall has, like, three toy stores in it, where you can buy bears that’ve already been built.

  In homeroom this morning, Jerry Baxter leaned over and told me the big news: His older sister is friends with Megan March’s older sister, and his sister told him that Megan March had a sleepover at her place, and all the girls who were there made a list, grading all the eighth-grade boys on cuteness, from A to F. Jerry said that he got an A-minus, which isn’t too bad. I asked him where I was ranked, and he said he didn’t know—all he knows is that he got an A-minus.

  I told Chuck about the list, and he started telling other people, and by lunchtime, the list was pretty much the only thing anyone was talking about. Ryan Pendleton finally said, “This is stupid—we don’t even know if there is a list or not.” And then he walked over to Megan and said, “So Jerry Baxter gets an A-minus, huh?” And she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And he said, “The list you made at your sleepover? Grading boys on cuteness?” And she said, “We never made a list. And also: Jerry Baxter didn’t get an A-minus.”

  So there’s definitely a list. Now I just need to find out where I am on it.

  Today, we all spent another day just trying to find out where we stand on the list. Chuck says that he spent a while talking to Ingrid Grant, who was at the sleepover, and she told him that he got a B-plus, but that she’d wanted to give him an A. I asked him if he found out what I got, but he said that he was a little too distracted.

  On the bus ride home today, Doug Spivak leaned over and told me that someone had posted the grade list on the wall of the girls’ bathroom. I asked him if he’d seen what my grade was, and he said he hadn’t, but that he’d gotten a C-plus. And I was about to say something like, “Well, look, it’s just a stupid list,” when he said, “Pretty sweet, right? It’s the best grade I’ve ever gotten in anything.”

  I guess, in some ways, it must be nice to be Doug Spivak.

  Before school today, I tried to go into the girls’ bathroom, but it was never empty. And I tried again at lunch, and the same thing happened. That’s when I realized that I couldn’t go in there when everyone else was out and around in the hallways, which left me with only one option. During English, I went up to Mrs. White and whispered, “I have diarrhea,” and she let me go to the bathroom during class. So I sneaked into the girls’ bathroom and took a look at the list.

  And my name’s not on it.

  I checked and double-checked, and it’s not there. Every other guy in our class is on the list. Billy Maguire is on the list, and he moved away two years ago! But I’m not on there, and I don’t know why. Is it because I’m too ugly to grade? Because they’re angry with me for some reason? It’s driving me crazy—I’d almost rather have a bad grade than no grade at all.

  Well, this morning, before class, I went over to Megan’s locker and asked, as casually as I could, “Hey, Megan: I know there’s a list. I saw it in the girls’ bathroom. Why am I not on it?” And she said the worst three words she could possibly say:

  “Who are you?”

  And I said, “I’m Tad.” And she said, “Oh. Right! Tad. Yeah, sorry. We just forgot about you.”

  I’ve gone to school with Megan since kindergarten. We were paired up in the “buddy system” for a full day for our class trip to the state capitol in sixth grade. I can’t believe I was forgotten.

  I’m going to have to try and be more memorable.

  I’ve come up with a great plan to get more people to remember who I am. I realized that I need something to make me stand out, so I’ve decided that I’m going to start wearing a hat all the time. I’m going to be the hat-wearing guy. Maybe I’ll even get a nickname, like “Cap Boy” or something. I’m trying it out tomorrow—wish me luck!

  Bad news: Turns out, it’s against the school rules to wear a hat all the time.

  But tomorrow, I’ve got a great plan: I’m going to be the kid who always wears funny buttons to school. I got one that says VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS, and I’m going to wear it all day tomorrow.

  Guess what? It’s also against the rules to wear buttons to school.

  But I’m not giving up. Now I’ve got a foolproof plan: I’m going to wear sunglasses everywhere. I’ve even figured out what my nickname should be: “Shades.” This has got to work.

  Well, it turns out that it’s really hard to see indoors when you’re wearing sunglasses—so for instance, you might not see the door to the faculty lounge opening until it hits you in the face. I got a bloody nose, and my sunglasses broke. Dr. Evans said she was really sorry, but I should know better than to wear sunglasses indoors.

  After school, Chuck told me that it might be time to stop trying to come up with ways to be memorable. As he said, “Right now, you’re going to be remembered as the guy who keeps getting in trouble for wearing things.” He had a point.

  I’ve never understood why Batman has villains named the Joker and the
Riddler—there’s not a huge difference between a joke and a riddle. I bet they both would get super sensitive if you pointed out the similarities, though. I bet if you brought up the Riddler around the Joker, he’d be like, “No, no, we’re totally different! Sure, we both hate Batman. But he only uses the kind of humor that’s question-and-answer-based, and mine is more of a prank-type thing!”

  In bio class today, Mr. Hamilton made us dissect mice. Seema Gupta refused to do it, because she said that she had a mouse at home named Buttons and she wouldn’t be able to dissect a mouse without thinking of him. But Mr. Hamilton said that if she refused, she’d get an F on the assignment. That’s when Seema suddenly remembered that Buttons was a gerbil, not a mouse, and so she’d have no problem doing the assignment.

  Mr. Hamilton kept walking around the room, saying things like, “See if you can find the squeaky part” and “Save the tail—it’s a delicacy!” At one point, he held up two of the dead mice like they were puppets and pretended they were talking to each other.

  I used to wonder why whenever our family went out to dinner at Applebee’s, I’d always see Mr. Hamilton there, eating alone. But I think I’ve figured out why.

  Today at lunch, Jenny Bachman came over to my table and invited me to her Halloween party! Actually, she invited everyone at the table. I think she invited everyone in our class. But still: I got invited to a party at Jenny Bachman’s house! And it’s a costume party, so I have to come up with something that’ll impress her.

  I told my parents about the party at dinner, and my mom was like, “Oooh, a Halloween party! Why don’t you just reuse one of your old costumes? We have some makeup—you could go as a clown! You did that in third grade, and you were so cute! Or a cat—remember the year you went as a cat? I think we still have your ears!” And I said, “Mom! It’s a party at a girl’s house!” And then she said, “Oh! Right. So I guess you don’t want to go as Cookie Monster again, either, huh?”

  Chuck and I spent most of lunch today trying to think of a good costume. It needs to be cool and creative, and it can’t have a mask, because I want Jenny to be able to see my face. And it has to be something we both can do, so that if people think it’s stupid, there’s at least one other person at the party who’s dressed equally stupidly. We finally decided that we’d both go as vampires, because girls seem to really, really like vampires. But Chuck just called me and said that his mom won’t let him go as a vampire, because she’s afraid he could swallow his vampire teeth and choke.

  It’s not easy being Chuck.

  Chuck had an awesome idea today: He’s got a black suit from his Bar Mitzvah, and I’ve got the one we bought when Great-Aunt Sophie died. We just need to wear black ties and sunglasses, and we can be Men in Black! Chuck is a genius.

  I got in trouble tonight at dinner, and I’m still not sure why. Sophie went to the mall with my parents today and picked out her Halloween costume—she’s going as Sleeping Beauty. And all I said was, “Y’know, I don’t understand why the prince would want to kiss Sleeping Beauty, because she’s been lying there for a really long time, so I bet she stinks. I mean, there’s no way that, after lying there for all that time, she hasn’t peed herself.” And Sophie started to cry and say that she didn’t want to be the princess who smelled like pee, and that she wanted a different costume, and my mom announced that I wouldn’t be allowed to watch TV tonight.

  In trouble again. My parents went to the mall and got Sophie a Little Mermaid costume, and all I said was, “You won’t be able to say ‘Trick or treat.’ The Little Mermaid gave away her voice in order to get legs, remember?” And Sophie said that she didn’t want to go the whole night without speaking, so she’d have to get a different costume, and I had my Wii taken away.

  Sorry I didn’t write yesterday. My parents took my computer away after they came back with a third costume for Sophie, a Cinderella costume, and I said that it was a really pretty dress, given that it had been sewn together by mice and rats.

  I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.

  Sophie’s getting ready for Halloween—she’s been practicing saying “Trick or treat!” really loud. I don’t understand why we still say “Trick or treat.” Nobody actually bothers to trick the people who don’t give them candy, so the whole “trick” part of “Trick or treat” is just an empty threat, and everyone knows it. I think the “trick” part is just there because it makes it sound like you’re offering people an option—it just seems rude to knock on people’s doors and shout, “Treat!”

  6:15 p.m.

  Jenny’s party is two hours away, and I can’t get in touch with Chuck. He wasn’t in school today, and he’s not answering his phone. Meanwhile, my mom and dad just took Sophie trick-or-treating. Sophie finally settled on going as an angel, and Mom and Dad got kind of mad at me when I looked at her costume and said, “You know, another way of looking at it is that you’re going as a dead kid,” and Sophie started to cry. My mom and dad only got her to stop by promising to take her trick-or-treating over in the super-rich neighborhood where people give out full-size candy bars.

  6:37 p.m.

  Just got a text message from Chuck. He’s got strep throat, so he won’t be able to be the other Man in Black. Which kind of ruins the whole plan, because the Men in Black thing only works if there’s more than one of you. If it’s just you, you look like a funeral director. Now I don’t have anything to wear to Jenny’s party.

  7:21 p.m.

  I just had a great idea! I remembered Jenny saying once how much she loved the movie Avatar, and how she thought the guy from it was really cute! I dug around in the attic and found the blue makeup from when I was Cookie Monster. I covered my face and arms in blue makeup and put some yellow dots on it, and I borrowed the wig that Sophie wore when she went as Hannah Montana two years ago—it’s not bad, if I do say so myself. I’m off to the party now—wish me luck!

  9:40 p.m.

  Ugh. Bad night. I got to Jenny Bachman’s house, and she seemed sort of startled when she opened the door and I was standing there. She was like, “Are you a Smurf?” And I said, “No! I’m a Na’vi! Like from one of your favorite movies, Avatar?” And she said, “Oh! Right!” And then her mom saw me and said, “That’s blue makeup?” And I said, “Yep!” And her mom said, “I’m sorry, but please don’t sit on any of our furniture. Or touch our walls. OK?”

  So I stood around for a few minutes near the punch bowl, and saw what everyone else had come as—a lot of people weren’t even wearing costumes, and the ones who were, were wearing really simple ones, like the guy who’d stapled some socks to himself and come as Static Cling.

  And then it got even worse: I saw Mark O’Keefe, who was there dressed as Wolverine, with his arm around Jenny Bachman.

  After that, I decided I didn’t want to stick around anymore, and I started walking home. I was halfway home when my parents drove by, and my mom rolled down the window and said, “Tad? Is that you?” And I said, “Yeah.” And my dad said, “Weren’t you going as one of the Men in Black?” And I said, “Chuck got sick.” And then my sister said, “Is that my Hannah Montana wig?” And I said, “Maybe.” My mom said, “We’d offer you a ride home, but … you know … the car’s upholstery.” So I walked the rest of the way home.

  Now I’m in my room. I washed as much of the blue off as I could, but I keep finding more, like in my ears or on my neck. Sophie just came to the door and said, “Tad? I’m sorry you had a bad time at your party. You can have one of my Snickerses if you want.” Which was really nice of her. I mean, she’s allergic to peanuts, so I’m not sure why she didn’t let me have all the Snickers. But still … it was nice of her.

  November

  Well, there’s good news and bad news: The good news is, I’m now very memorable—everyone in school knows who I am, and I even have a nickname.

  The bad news is, the nickname is “Smurf.”

  I guess everybody found out about my Avatar costume from the other night. I can even hear people whispering �
�Smurf” when I walk down the hallway. The only nice part about the whole day was when Jenny Bachman came over to me and said, “Tad! I’m sorry you didn’t stick around the other night. I don’t care what anyone else says—I thought your costume was really cool.” Which was really nice of her, and almost made up for the fact that our conversation ended with Mark O’Keefe coming over, saying, “Let’s go!” and then, as they walked away, adding, “Later, Smurf.”

  Sophie just got back from her best friend Stacy’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. I wonder what the meeting was like where they decided on that restaurant’s mascot. Like, did anyone pipe up and go, “Hey, maybe we shouldn’t have our mascot be a six-foot-tall rat”? Or was everyone just OK with it?