Can You Say Catastrophe Page 0,1
or if what I’m about to write is just blatantly obvious, but there are ten very clear reasons why my life is miserable.
1. My mom, Flora. She was put on this planet to embarrass me. To be fair, she wasn’t too bad during my first decade. But ever since I “went preteen” (Mom’s words, not mine), it’s like she ate some bad fish and hasn’t been the same since.
2. My dad, Rex. He was put here to embarrass me too. My dad used to write a relationship advice column in our local newspaper. Now he’s opening a restaurant called The Love Doctor Diner, so he’ll be serving up advice and food.
3. My little sister May, age nine, almost ten, a.k.a. “The Brawn.” Yesterday was Exhibit A of why having the strongest kid in town as a little sister is not always a good thing.
4. My baby sister, June, soon to be seven, a.k.a. “The Brain.” Her motto in life is “Listen. Remember. Repeat.” Mom says I need to be careful when June is around. I say my parents need to buy a muzzle and use it.
5. My dog, Gilligan. All he likes to do is run away from home. I don’t blame him. I’d like to run away too.
6. My town. I live in Faraway, Alabama. Yes, pronounced “far away.” Some girls have it so good. When they meet people, they get to say things like, “Hi, I’m Chloe from New York,” or “I’m Jasmine from Los Angeles.” But I have to say, “I’m April from Faraway.” Imagine the looks you get with that one.
7. My nose. It’s shaped like a ball of bread dough. Brynn told me I should be doing this exercise where you press two fingers against the sides of your nose for twenty minutes a day to give it shape. So far, no results.
8. My butt. It’s tiny. A lot of girls at school have nice round butts—Billy says they’re bootylicious. I plan on asking God for some help in the bootylicious department, but I want him to get to the boob thing first. (See below.)
9. My boobs. They’re uneven. One is an A. The other is a B. THIS CAN’T BE NORMAL! I need to Google this to see what can be done.
10. My mouth. Quite often it says the wrong thing. Especially when it is talking to cute boys.
Ten more reasons …
Ha! Just kidding. I could go on like this all day.
I really could.
3:42 P.M.
Still stuck on yesterday
I don’t want to think about my birthday party, but it’s all my brain will let me think about. And what I keep thinking is that I should have known it was going to be a disaster. There were so many signs, from the moment I opened my eyes, and I ignored them all.
I should have known when May and June woke me up wearing matching floral patchwork pants and T-shirts that Mom had obviously made and sneakers with sunflowers glued on them, and Mom handed me a third matching outfit.
I should have known when June started rambling about a birthday party for the three of us with a “Spring Has Sprung” theme, and a sign that Mom hung in the backyard that said “Celebrate Our Spring Flowers, April, May, and June,” and a Pin the Stem on the Rose game that Dad set up.
I should have known when I reminded Mom that I wanted to have a skating party and she said, “April, everyone has skating parties. Dare to be different. Your father and I have put a lot of time and thought into all of your birthdays this year. Today will be unique!”
I should have known when Billy and Brynn showed up—my best friends, the ones who are supposed to love me more than anyone (except maybe my family who doesn’t really count)—and couldn’t stop laughing at what I was wearing.
I should have known when I saw that the party was catered by Dad’s new restaurant. Dad stuck signs in all the food saying “From the Love Doctor Diner—Grand opening Friday, May 3!” It was like half party, half promotional event.
And I definitely should have known it was going to be a disaster when Matt Parker, world’s hottest new boy next door, showed up and introduced himself, to which I replied “Welcome to the neighborhood!” like an old lady. And then, of course, I told Brynn—apparently too loudly—“He’s so hot. I don’t even know him, and I already have a crush on him.”
The rest is