Dear Dumb Diary #5: Can Adults Become Human? Read online

  holding back on me. How selfish can you get?

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  Saturday 21

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Mom says that since Aunt Carol is having her

  little party at our house next Friday, and my room is

  where they throw everybody’s coats, I should start

  cleaning my room now. The process usually takes

  about five days. I don’t like cleaning my room, but

  it is interesting to excavate down and find evidence

  of earlier Jamie civilizations buried deep beneath

  the visible mantle of junk.

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  Sunday 22

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Aunt Carol and I hung around today for a

  while. We talked about her job, which she says she

  "LUUUVS." She says she loves the school and

  the people she works with, and me, and the people

  she works with, and the whole wide world, and the

  people she works with.

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  I filled her in about some of the people she

  works with, since she’s only been there a couple

  weeks, and adults — like animals — must know the

  way their little herds operate.

  I told her that the office ladies used to be

  mean, but now they’re nice and I think it’s because

  Aunt Carol has substituted their hard butterscotch

  candies with chocolate, or maybe she is also a

  calming goat to them the way she is to Bruntford.

  I told her that Mr. Evans, who is my English

  teacher, has a vein in his head that he can throb at

  you when he’s angry but, like a bull elephant, he’s

  more likely to just try to scare you than gore you.

  I told her that Miss Anderson gave Assistant

  Principal Devon a valentine I had created while she

  was out of the office the other day in the way that

  a bird might offer another bird a big fat grub with

  glitter on it as part of a courtship ritual.

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  Aunt Carol got all flustered and angry and I

  can only assume it’s because she is strongly against

  birds.

  I mean, I’m no big fan myself, but c’mon,

  Aunty C.

  Monday 23

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Aunt Carol drove me to school today and

  Bruntford was out patrolling the parking lot the way

  she does when she’s not patrolling the lunchroom.

  Aunt Carol stopped and talked to her while I

  went into school. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen

  them talking. I can only assume that Bruntford

  was telling her to park somewhere else or finish her

  meat loaf or some other dumb Bruntford thing like

  that.

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  Later that day, Angeline did it again.

  Gigglecide. The stamping, the flailing, the

  puppy-pee squeals.

  "The glasses!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She

  slipped!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Your

  aunt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She was mad

  at first ... but ... eeeee!!!!! This

  Friday!!!!!!!!!!!!" (I am not exaggerating the

  number of exclamation points here.) And all I could

  do was try to defend myself from getting strangled

  by Angeline’s mop of flawless silken golden silky

  hair in the way you might have to wrestle a massive

  octopus that smelled like Green Apple shampoo.

  Why is Angeline doing this?

  I asked Mom what she thought about

  Angeline but she was concentrating too hard on her

  precious appetizers and stepping on Stinker to keep

  him from jumping up on the table to even hear what

  I had asked. All she could say was, “I like Angeline.

  She’s a nice girl.” That was all I needed to hear to

  know that she had no idea who I was talking about.

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  Tuesday 24

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Isabella got in trouble EIGHT TIMES

  TODAY. She kept doing things just bad enough

  to get sent to Assistant Principal Devon, but not

  serious enough for the teacher to call the police.

  Isabella's rap sheet:

  • Told Mrs. Palmer, the science teacher, that biology

  is the study of everything that is too gross to go

  into any other “ology” and that’s why she teaches it.

  • Ran in the hallway.

  • Drew unflattering picture of Mr. Evans on his

  chalkboard. (Which alone might not have done it,

  but the hula skirt and coconut bra sure did.)

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  • Ran in hallway again.

  • Reminded math teacher that when microwaves

  were invented, people no longer needed to make

  popcorn over a fire. Now we have calculators, so it

  won’t be long before we don’t need math teachers,

  either.

  • Told lunch ladies that their macaroni and cheese

  smelled like the inside of an abandoned chicken

  coop.

  • Ran in hallway AGAIN.

  • And finally, got in an argument with Mr. Dover, our

  gym teacher, over doing laps. Isabella told him that

  we’re not supposed to run in school.

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  Obviously she was taking advantage of my

  Aunt Carol’s willingness to throw the teacher

  notes away, and just wants to see how much she

  can get away with. I didn’t even want to bring it up

  with Aunt Carol tonight, because I’m embarrassed

  by Isabella. I’ll talk to Isabella about it tomorrow

  and ask her to take it down a notch.

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  Wednesday 25

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Notchwise, Isabella only knows

  how to go up

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  I tried to explain to her that she is over-

  mining the natural resource of my Aunt Carol, and

  if she keeps at it, it’s going to dry up. One day it

  might not be there when we really need it — like if

  we were to put Angeline in a locker and weld it shut

  accidentally. (Recently I learned how to weld on the

  Internet. Accidentally.)

  Isabella doesn’t care. She continued her

  crime spree throughout the day, and Miss Anderson

  even personally walked her down to the office one

  time herself.

  I told her that if she kept at it, sooner or later

  she was going to get detention, and for a moment, I

  think I got through to her, because she stopped for

  a second and thought.

  I wanted to apologize about Isabella to Aunt

  Carol tonight, but she’s out on a date again, and

  Stinker still won’t cut one. (I tried him on cabbage

  and broccoli tonight —he can’t resist anyt
hing

  because mom’s exquisite appetizers are driving him

  crazy.) He looks to me like he’s starting to inflate a

  little.

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  Thursday 26

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Meat loaf. And not just meat loaf. Also,

  Angeline was at our table today. I had no idea

  why she decided to sit with Isabella and me,

  but Angeline can sit anywhere she wants. She

  is immune, it seems, to The Rules of the

  Lunchroom Tables. (There’s a cool kid table,

  a jerk table, a computer kid table. . . . you get the

  picture.)

  Angeline sat down and all friendly and playful

  she goes, “Quite the little office romance, huh?”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about so I

  said, “Yes.”

  “Our assistant principal seems to be falling in

  love,” she whispered.

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  Isabella said, “No duh. Miss Anderson is

  really coming on strong.”

  Angeline might have gagged a little, but

  school meat loaf has that effect on most people.

  “Miss Anderson?” she said.

  “Yeah,” Isabella said. “I’ve been up there

  sixteen times in two days, and Miss Anderson is

  always up there hanging around, making excuses

  to go into Mr. Devon’s office. She gave him Jamie’s

  valentine. In fact, she acts just like Jamie does

  when she tries to talk to Hudson.” (Hudson Rivers,

  you might recall Dumb Diary, is the eighth-cutest

  guy in my grade and shut up,, Isasbella!)

  Then Angeline changed. I saw her wide blue

  eyes narrow. Her perfect nostrils flared into . . .

  into . . . well, they were still perfect, but they were

  somewhat less ladylike. And her eternal smile

  flattened a bit into what must have been a scowl,

  but like the scowl a Care Bear might give you.

  I was so happy. Can you believe how jealous she was

  that it was My valentine that Miss Anderson had

  selected? I guess you haven’t stolen my favorite

  teacher from me after all, hmmm, Angeline?

  When I looked up, I realized that Bruntford

  had sidled up next to our table. Was she just

  doing her normal lunch patrol, or was she

  EAVESDROPPING? I wondered, although I

  didn’t have to wonder long, because I saw her glare

  across the cafeteria at Miss Anderson who

  happened to be breezing through in an especially

  pretty manner.

  Strangely, Isabella was looking at Miss

  Anderson with the exact same expression. I had no

  idea that two faces as different as theirs could even

  make the same expression.

  The bell rang and we all broke up and I waited

  around for Isabella at her locker, but she never

  showed. Somebody told me that she got detention.

  This sugar withdrawal is really going badly for her.

  Aunt Carol was gone again at dinner and I

  asked my mom if she was ever going to eat with us

  again, and she smiled and said that she thought

  Aunt Carol would be getting her own place to live

  very soon and she wouldn’t be surprised if after the

  party tomorrow night, we saw even less of her.

  It’s more important than ever that I find out

  what’s going on, and only Stinker can help me. I fed

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  him a can of beans and some frozen waffles after

  dinner and I’ve explained to him how important

  it is that he grosses up my room before bedtime.

  Looking at the clock on the wall, he only has a

  couple minutes to go, and it looks like this bloaty

  little beagle is going to disobey me AGAIN.

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  Friday 27

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Isabella DID get detention yesterday. I told

  her there was a limit to what Aunt Carol could do

  with teachers’ notes.

  And speaking of teachers, my Aunt Carol’s

  little get-together tonight caused actual teachers

  to be HERE in my actual house. I’m not kidding:

  REAL TEACHERS. It hadn’t occurred to me that

  since Aunt Carol just started working at the school,

  it would be teachers and office ladies that would

  get herded through my private house.

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  I kid you not. Mr. Dover, the gym teacher

  (his real name is Ben Dover if you can handle it),

  was here. And not wearing a whistle or carrying a

  clipboard or telling anybody to hustle.

  Miss Palmer, the science teacher, was

  here, wearing a dress that was actually kind of

  FLATTERING. I thought that was going to gross

  me out to write, but it didn’t.

  Mr. Evans was here, but his head vein wasn’t.

  In many ways, he resembled a human being that

  didn’t even have a big old ugly head vein.

  The office ladies were here and they were

  not being mean at all, even though my mom

  was not handing out those little chocolate bars.

  I’m beginning to wonder if that one Mean Office

  Lady that we disabled was the one making them

  so grumpy. Maybe she was like an un-calming

  goat — like a goat that was always making its little

  collages all over their barnyard.

  There must have been fifteen teachers in

  my house, including Mr. VanDoy, who still wasn’t

  smiling, but at least he wasn’t handing out social

  studies homework, either.

  Then Assistant Principal Devon came in, and

  Aunt Carol, who I thought was not looking where she

  was going, slammed into him the way I crashed into

  Bruntford. Exactly — except for the huge . . .

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  I still can hardly believe it. It was one of

  those awesomely horrible types of kisses that is

  super gross and super excellent at the same time,

  like two people trying to chew one piece of gum

  at the same time. My aunt and Assistant Principal

  Devon KISSED.

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  And this is right about where Isabella came

  in, with Bruntford, (CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? ? ? )

  who, in this big friendly voice said, “Did we miss

  anything?” I looked at Isabella’s hands and they

  were filthy. So were Bruntford’s. I assumed that

  they had been wrestling, but Isabella took me into

  the bathroom and filled me in.

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  Isabella did get detention yesterday. Isabella

  said it only took a few minutes in the office before

  she could tell that Angeline had not been talking

  about Miss Anderson. She had been talking about

  my Aunt Carol. Isabella said it was totally obvious

  that Aunt Carol and Assistant Principal Devon

  really liked each other — which explains the big

  smooch — and that she overheard Aunt Carol

  talking about how "special" this party was going

  to be for her, and how she wished Miss Anderson

  wasn’t going to be there.

  Isabella said that all this lovey-dovey stuff

  was a very good thing, because it was working out

  so well for her personally.

 
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  I didn’t understand. I mean, I got it that

  Aunt Carol didn’t want Miss Anderson at the party

  flirting with her assistant principal, but why was

  Miss Anderson even interested? She could have

  dated Assistant Principal Devon anytime in the

  last five years. Why, all of a sudden, was she so

  interested now?

  Isabella pointed at our identical shoes (the

  ones that make me look 20 or something). Then I

  remembered why Isabella bought them. She only

  bought them because I had them.

  Miss Anderson was just like Isabella was

  with my shoes. Except the assistant principal is my

  shoes, and Aunt Carol is me, who had the shoes in

  the first place. Angeline doesn’t really have a shoe

  role here. Anyway, Miss Anderson liked Assistant

  Principal Devon because Aunt Carol liked him.

  Then Isabella confessed WHY it’s working

  out so well for her personally. She’s been getting

  in trouble on purpose for the candy. Every time

  she would go to the office, Aunt Carol would throw

  away the teacher’s note, and Isabella would grab

  a handful of candy. Isabella was doing crime

  for chocolate. She knew I was right about the

  detention. But she wasn’t trying to avoid it. She

  was trying to get it. She figured that if she got

  detention, she could spend an hour or so in the

  office eating as much chocolate as she wanted.

  But as soon as she fully understood the

  situation, she needed to make sure that Miss

  Anderson couldn’t break up her ENDLESS

  CANDY SUPPLY and that meant keeping her out

  of the picture. Besides, Miss Anderson had rejected

  her decorated padlock idea in favor of Angeline’s