Dear Dumb Diary #9: That's What Friends Aren't For Read online

  of the day on the couch like a classic person.

  He hadn’t read all of them, but he said he

  really liked the movie

  The Three Musketeers

  , so

  maybe that book would be a good choice.

  39

  Dad told me that

  The Three Musketeers

  are

  these French guys with fancy hats and swords that

  save the day or something. Mom joined in and said

  it might be a good book for me because Isabella,

  Angeline, and I are like three musketeers. The

  thought of slashing swords around with those two

  both delighted and terrified me.

  But then Dad added that

  The Three

  Musketeers

  were more like four musketeers,

  because a lot of the story revolves around a fourth

  guy that kind of joins up with the first three. He said

  that the fourth guy really made them complete,

  and even saved their lives from a shark. But then he

  said the shark might have been in another movie

  he saw, so it’s hard to tell just how much of any of

  this he had right. And then he went back to sleep on

  the couch. (Looks like screamy kid and TV aren’t the

  only ones with attention -span issues.)

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  But my dad’s pointless jabbering made me

  think of something: The band I saw on TV had four

  people in it. That goes for most other bands, too.

  And it’s not just bands, either. Tennis never

  has three on a team. Ping-Pong never has three on

  a team. Crime-fighting superheroes never work in

  threes. You never see, like, Batman and Robin and

  Steve. You just know that Steve would get in the

  way and be all like, “Hey, what’s this thing do? Can

  I drive the Batmobile? Maybe the Joker isn’t such a

  bad guy — did you ever try to get to know him? HI,

  JOKER! WE’RE OVER HERE!”

  I think I know what I must do.

  I have a plan.

  Like most plans, it has two phases. Phase

  One, or outer phase, which is like the frosting,

  and Phase Two, which is the inner phase, like

  the cake. That reminds me — I didn’t do math

  homework with Isabella like she wanted. It might

  seem strange that this made me think of Isabella,

  but experience has taught me that wheresoever

  there is frosting, soon shall there also be Isabella.

  41

  Monday 09

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Today I dropped the idea on Isabella of

  forming a band for the Talent Show. She didn’t hate

  it. And that was a critical moment in my plan.

  I even said we should include Angeline because

  my psychic powers told me that if I didn’t , they

  might go and do Isabella’s magic act without me,

  which Isabella said out loud at the exact same time

  as my powers said it.

  (Honestly. My psychic powers would be a lot

  more impressive if people would allow enough time

  for them to occur before they said things.)

  42

  Handling Isabella is like handling a

  rattlesnake. Except that a real rattlesnake won’t

  explode when you least expect it and blurt out some

  sort of embarrassing thing that it knows you did,

  like kissing a magazine cover until you got printer’s

  ink all over your lips and you had to use dishwashing

  liquid to get it off. Not that I ever did that. Or ever

  will again.

  Also, a rattlesnake won’t sit on you and let

  just a little drool dribble out of its mouth and then

  suck it back up at the last moment. It’s weird to

  think that my BFF has done things to me that are

  beneath a rattlesnake.

  Anyway, handling Isabella is tricky, and

  nobody but me has even the slightest hope of doing

  it. Observe:

  “But,” I went on, “you might rather do

  the magic act. Magic is cool,” I said. “Probably the

  coolest.”

  That was the bait. I crossed my fingers and

  waited.

  43

  “It’s not the coolest,” Isabella said. I

  knew that her undeniable expertness on coolness

  would come through. “A band would be the

  coolest.”

  “But you and I can’t play anything,” I said,

  crossing my fingers even harder. I tried crossing my

  toes. I think I may have crossed my organs. If the

  rattlesnake was going to explode, or sit on me and

  drool, this was the moment.

  44

  And that’s where I left it. A less experienced

  Isabella-Handler might try to close the deal right

  then and there, but you have to be patient. If you

  try too hard to sell Isabella on something, she

  starts to get suspicious and might make you eat

  it without even taking it out of the box, like I’ve

  seen her do to Girl Scouts trying a little too hard

  to sell her cookies, and once with a second grader

  selling stuff for a class fund -raiser. ( Science

  Note: you can get a roll of wrapping paper about a

  foot deep into a kid’s mouth.)

  45

  By lunchtime, I saw that Phase One (the

  frosting phase) was complete. Isabella was telling

  Angeline about our band as if it had been her idea

  all along. Angeline, being profoundly crippled with

  Permanent Good Attitude, is unable

  to respond to any idea in any way other than

  positively.

  “We’ll just pretend to play the instruments.

  And we’ll pretend to sing. You know, like

  lip- synching,” Isabella explained.

  “That will be so funny!”

  Angeline said.

  I saw the whole plan begin to crumble.

  FUNNY was not going to work for Isabella, and

  Angeline knew it.

  I had to think fast. “You bet it will

  be funny,” I said. “We’ll fool every body into

  thinking it’s us playing and singing. We’ll

  totally trick everybody. You’re right, Angeline —

  funny.” Then I said it again all stretched out:

  “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH - NEE.”

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  47

  I could have gone longer than that, but was

  worried that if I stretched out my UUUH a few

  U

  s too

  many, Isabella would know I was up to something.

  She can be very perceptive when it comes to

  trickery.

  In that moment, I can imagine what was

  going on in

  Angeline’s head. Part of her head wanted

  to object to the trickery of it. The rest of her head

  was devoted to full- time hair manufacturing. But

  another part, a beensy- teensy part of her

  head, really

  liked

  the idea of being up onstage as

  part of a band. What’s cooler than people thinking

  you can rock out on a guitar?

  “Yeah,” she finally said. “Funny.”

  “Yeah,” Isabella said. “Everyone will be

  totally fooled.”

  “Yeah,” I said in an extremely casual and

  offhand kind of way. “Now I’ll have some aud
itions

  for another band member.”

  “Another band member?” Isabella repeated,

  narrowing her eyes at me. I swear I heard a

  rattlesnake ticking.

  Leave it to Angeline to play snake charmer. I

  guess Blondy bought the whole idea. “Makes sense

  to me,”

  Angeline said. “It will look more like a real

  band with more performers.”

  Looking more like a real band meant fooling

  more people . This clearly pleased Isabella’s wicked

  side, which is pretty much both her sides.

  She nodded, and now Phase Two (the cake

  phase) was in motion.

  48

  49

  50

  Tuesday 10

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  I posted some flyers for band auditions

  today. Even with the handicap of not having glitter

  on them, I’m pretty sure they’ll work. I couldn’t

  really write GIRLS ONLY on the flyers, because I

  think it would be wrong to discriminate against the

  boy species without doing it secretly. So they say

  things like, “Fashion sense a must” and “High heel

  skills a plus” and “Should be able to sing prettily in

  a very high pretty voice.”

  51

  Glitter would have helped the flyers, of

  course — there are few things it doesn’t help —but

  I needed to save my full glitter assortment for my

  art project.

  When I got home from school today, I spent

  several hours deciding what kind of art masterpiece

  I wanted to create. I was so happy to have put my

  Talent Show plan in motion that I just arted all

  over the place.

  Even the combined repulsiveness of Stinker

  and his dogdaughter didn’t distract me. They

  seemed content to sit there and watch me work and

  smell bad.

  You understand, of course, that I meant that

  they smell bad, not me. I smell delicious: like

  glitter and a plan coming together.

  52

  53

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  Wednesday 11

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Okay. See, if I owned the Universe — and

  maybe I should, I don’t know, it’s not up to me —

  when a person went to the bathroom, the rest of

  the Universe would politely wait until she got back

  before it did something stupid.

  Today in art, Miss Anderson gave us one of

  her favorite assignments: Drawing portraits of each

  other during class. We were split up into pairs and

  had one class period to complete the portrait.

  This is a classic art assignment of Miss

  Anderson’s that helps us develop quick, confident

  drawing skills. It also permits Miss Anderson to talk

  to her new boyfriend on her cell phone for forty

  minutes. We’ve done this many, many times and

  everybody knows that Isabella and I ALWAYS

  pair up.

  You put peanut butter with jelly, bacon with

  eggs, and Jamie with Isabella. Nobody ever asks

  for a peanut butter and blond hair sandwich or a

  big plate of bacon and eggs and four-inch- long

  eyelashes.

  I had to go to the bathroom FOR, LIKE,

  ONE SECOND and when I came back,

  Angeline

  AND ISABELLA had paired up for the portrait

  assignment. Just like that. Jelly with no peanut

  butter.

  As I looked around, I realized that there

  was nobody left for me to pair up with except for

  T.U.K.W.N.I.F. (That Ugly Kid Whose Name I

  Forget). So now I was like one half of a peanut

  butter and sewage sandwich. Does that sound good

  to anybody? No? No takers?

  It was even worse because I had to draw an

  ugly face. Sorry, T.U.K., I know it’s not your fault,

  but it’s not mine, either. Your parents are the ones

  that will do time for this crime.

  55

  56

  Plus, as everybody knows, ol’ T.U.K.ster

  can’t draw portraits. Perhaps it’s because he has

  grown up resenting faces, since his hasn’t done

  him any favors. Maybe he’s just all computery and

  not familiar with pencils and pencil- like -drawing-

  objects. Maybe because his face resembles so

  many other non- face things, he’s a little unclear on

  exactly what role a face actually plays.

  At the end of the class, Miss Anderson said

  we’d look at all of the portraits next week. She just

  picked up a couple portraits to show as examples

  to the class —T.U.K.W.N.I.F.’s and mine. My drawing

  of him was as flattering as I could possibly make it,

  and his drawing of me — which looked a lot like if

  an orangutan fell face- first into a blender — got a

  HUGE laugh.

  57

  See, Universe, I’m not sure you got this

  one right. I think you really , really need to ask

  yourself if it was wise to make me and Isabella

  AUTOMATIC Friends with Angeline.

  I think it may be time for me to admit that

  even though I’ve been trying very, very, very hard to

  make this whole three- way friendship with Isabella

  and

  Angeline and me work, I may have to let go of my

  dream and face the fact that Angeline is making me

  let go of my dream.

  Three-person friendships are like three- person

  bands — they exist, but they’re rare. Like unicorns

  and male librarians. (Which I believe were known in

  mythology as Guybrarians.)

  58

  Thursday 12

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  It’s amazing, but I think my brain might have

  been trying to tell me something. You know, like

  how TV does.

  Last night I had this dream —

  Hey! It just occurred to me: Dreaming is just

  like watching TV, but you can’t change the channel,

  and the shows often feature an insane clown that’s

  trying to kill you. Or maybe that’s just me.

  Anyway, in this dream, Angeline and Isabella

  and I were all flowers. (Though Angeline might have

  been one of those weeds that looks like a flower.)

  We were just sitting there, growing, and my brain

  came walking along dressed up like an adorable

  little- girl gardener and planted a seed right next to

  us. The seed grew and grew into another flower, but

  I never saw its face.

  59

  Then this weasel- looking thing came

  along and said, “I’m hungry. I think I’ll eat two

  scrumptious flowers.” It bit the heads off of Angeline

  and the new flower. And Isabella and I were all

  laughing and high-fiving. Except that we had leaves

  for hands, so we were kind of high- oneing.

  Do you see what this means, Dumb Diary? My

  brain is telling me that I need to get another friend,

  not just another band member

  . I need a fourth

  friend in our little group. Then Angeline will pair off

  with the new person, and Isabella and I can be the

  peanut butter and jelly that we’re supposed to be.

  IT’S SO SIMPLE. And here�
��s how I’m

  going to do it: As girls audition to be our fourth

  band member for the talent show, they’ll really be

  SECRETLY auditioning to be my new friend. And

  Isabella’s friend and Angeline’s friend, too, but I’ll

  decide for all of us. I mean, that’s what friends are

  for, right?

  60

  Later in my flower dream, a bee came and

  stung me over and over in my flower face. I’m not

  sure what that means, but I put on a little bug

  spray this morning before I went to school. Just in

  case.

  61

  Today was Meat Loaf Day. Thursday is always

  Meat Loaf Day. So, to keep Miss Bruntford off my

  neck, I asked my mom to pack me a lunch. (If you

  bring your lunch from home, Miss Bruntford hardly

  even bothers you about what you’re eating.)

  Mom was flattered— and, let’s face it,

  kind of surprised — that I asked. See, my

  mom’s food is whatever that thing is just before

  it turns poisonous. Like, down at the government

  they can’t really decide if her food should get that

  little skull- and- crossbones picture on it or not. Her

  food won’t kill anybody most of the time, so maybe

  they’d give it a little skull- and- crossbones that’s

  sort of hunching its shoulders in one of those “I

  Don’t Know” gestures.

  So, like I said, Mom was really flattered and

  spent a long time getting my lunch ready. I felt

  really good about how happy I had made her when I

  threw it all away.

  62

  I sat down with Isabella and Angeline and

  watched them eat and felt left out all over again

  because I sadly didn’t have any lunch. I can’t really

  say for sure whose fault that is. I imagined that I

  was a poor starving girl that, despite her extreme

  malnutrition, was very beautiful and had filth

  cutely smudged on her face just so.