Authors: Carol Weston
Ava and Pip
Copyright © 2014 by Carol Weston
Cover and internal design © 2014 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover Design by Will Riley, Sourcebooks
Cover illustration © Victoria Jamieson
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for kids who are shy,
and for kids who are not,
and
in memory of
Christopher Joseph Todd
who loved books
BEDTIME
DEAR NEW DIARY,
You won't believe what I just found out.
Fifth grade started today, and my homeroom has three Emilys but only one Ava, so at dinner, I asked Mom and Dad why they named me Ava.
Innocent question, right?
Well, Dad answered: “We like palindromes.”
“Palinwhat?” I said.
“Palindromes,” Dad replied, passing the salad. “Words that are the same backward and forward.”
“Like M-O-M,” Mom said.
“And D-A-D,” Dad said.
“And P-I-P,” Pip chimed. Apparently she knew all about this. “And H-A-N-N-A-H,” she added. That's Pip's middle name.
My full name is Ava Elle Wren. When people ask what the L stands for, they expect me to say Lily or Lauren or Louise, but I say, “It's not L, it's E-L-L-E.”
I thought about P-I-P, H-A-N-N-A-H, A-V-A, and E-L-L-E, and stared at my parents. “You chose our names because of how they're spelled? Wow.” Then I noticed how you spell “wow” (W-O-W).
And suddenly it was as if I saw the whole worldâor at least the Whole World of Wordsâin a brand-new way.
My parents' names are Anna and Bob (A-N-N-A and B-O-B), and they are word nerds.
“Why didn't you tell me before?” I asked.
“You never asked,” Dad answered.
“When did you tell Pip?”
“A while ago,” Mom said, “when she asked.”
Pip looked at me and shrugged. “At least we didn't get named after Nana Ethel.”
Pip is twelveâfor one more month. She talks at home, but at school, she is extremely shy. Pip was a preemie, which means she was born early. Since our last name is Wren, which is the name of a bird, Mom and Dad sometimes call her Early Bird.
When Pip was little, they worried about her a lot. To tell you the truth, they still worry about her a lot. They also pay way more attention to her than to me. I try not to let it bother meâ¦but it kind of does. I'm only human.
“Guess who was the first woman in the world?” Pip asked.
“Huh?” I replied, then noticed how “huh” (H-U-H) is spelled.
“Eve,” Pip said. “E-V-E!”
Dad jumped in. “And guess what Adam said when he saw Eve?”
“What?” I said, totally confused.
“Madam, I'm Adam!” Dad laughed.
“Another palindrome!” Mom explained. “M-A-D-A-M-I-M- A-D-A-M.”
“A whole sentence can be a palindrome?” I asked.
“Yes.” Dad pointed to Mom's plate. “Like, âMa has a ham!'”
Pip spelled that out: “M-A-H-A-S-A-H-A-M.”
I put down my fork, looked from my S-I-S to my M-O-M to my P-O-P, and started wondering if other people's families are as nutty as mine. Or is mine extra nutty? Like, chunky-peanut-butter nutty?
A-V-A
RIDICULOUSLY LATE
DEAR DIARY,
It's wayyy past my bedtime, and I'm hoping Mom and Dad won't barge in and tell me to turn off my light. But something's been keeping me awake.
After dinner, Pip and I played Battleship. We usually like sinking each other's carriers, cruisers, submarines, destroyers, and battleships. It's fun. She'll say, for instance, “B-8.” And I'll say, “I can't B-8 because I'm 10!” Or I'll say, “I-1.” And she'll say, “No, you didn't! The game isn't over!”
Tonight I was about to sink Pip's last ship when I said, “I-4.” But Pip said, “I-quit.”
“You can't quit!” I protested.
“I can and I did!” she said and stomped off to her room.
That made me so mad! I hate when my big sister acts like a little sister! I hate when she's a sore loser!
Once, after a teacher conference, I overheard Mom and Dad talking about Pip's “social issues” and how they wish they could help her “come out of her shell.”
Well, sometimes I wish I could take a hammer and break Pip's “shell” into a million zillion pieces. What if she
never
comes out? What if she grows up to be a sore loser quitter with no friends and a hundred cats and only me to talk to?
Thinking about Pip drives me crazy. Here's why: I always end up feeling mad at her
and
bad for her all at the same time!
The problem is that sometimes her problems turn into
my
problems. Like when I have to clean up after a game of Battleship or Clue or Monopoly by myself. Or when I have friends over and Pip doesn't come out of her room. Or when I walk into the kitchen and Mom and Dad suddenly go all quiet because they were in the middle of talking about her.
I know Pip isn't shy on purpose, but it still gets me mad.
AVA, ARRRGGGHHH
BEDTIME
DEAR DIARY,
Whenever I start a new diaryâlike I'm doing this weekâI end up accidentally writing something totally embarrassing that I would never want
anyone
to see. Then I put my pen down and bury the diary in my dresser drawer.
So far in my life, I've started seven diaries and finished zero. It's like there's a dead diary graveyard underneath my underwear!
Today in language arts, Mrs. Lemons asked us what we read this summer. Well, my family reads big books for funâthey even reread and
rereread
them. But long books intimidate me.
Long words (like “gigantic” and “intimidate”) don't scare me, just long books.
Here's how I pick books:
1.
I look at the front and back covers.
2.
I check to see if it's about a regular kid with normal problems (not superscary or supernatural problems).
3.
I read the first page so I can hear the “voice” and how it sounds.
4.
I peek at the last page to see how long it is.
If there are too many pages, forget it, I put the book back.
In
short
, I like
short
books.
Mrs. Lemons also asked us when we read. A lot of kids said, “Before bed,” but one girl, Riley, said, “On the bus,” and one boy, Chuck, said, “If I read on the bus, I'd barf. I get bus sick.”
Mrs. Lemons said, “How about you, Ava?”
“Sometimes I read before bed,” I said, “but sometimes I write.” I did not add that when I was little, I thought I was a great writer because I could write my whole name before Elizabeth and Katherine and Stephanie could write theirs. (Pip burst my bubble by pointing out that Ava has only three letters and theirs each have nine.)
“It's good to keep a journal,” Mrs. Lemons said. “And, Ava, your handwriting is excellent.”
“It used to be terrible,” I confessed. “In first grade, Mrs. Quintano said I didn't even hold my pencil right.”
I don't know why I blurted that out except that it was true. In first grade, I erased more than I wrote, and I collected erasersâpink rectangle ones and colorful ones shaped like cupcakes and rainbows and sushi.
Now I like pens more than pencils, and I have a favorite pen. It's silver with black ink and is the kind you click, not the kind with a cap. Dad bought it for me at the Dublin Writers Museum, and I am using it right now. I think of it as my magic pen, and I like to imagine that it has special powers and that I can write anything I want with itâanything at all!
Dad is a real writer. He's a playwrightâwhich is spelled playwright, not
playwrite
. He works at home writing plays and tutoring students.
Mom has a regular jobâshe runs the office of a vet named Dr. Gross who is more grumpy than gross.
At the end of class, Mrs. Lemons asked one last question. She said, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Everyone said things like “President,” “Ballerina,” “Doctor,” “Actor,” “Fireman,” “Rock star,” “Comedian,” “Chef,” and “Fifth-grade teacher.” Maybelle (my best friend) said, “Astronaut,” and Chuck said, “Championship boxer.”
I was the only person who said, “I don't know.”
AVA WITH A FUZZY FUTURE
FRIDAY NIGHT
DEAR DIARY,
We had the first spelling test of fifth grade today and I got a 100. So at dinner, I said, “I got a 100 on a spelling test.”
Dad said, “Great,” but I could tell he was mostly concentrating on cutting up the chicken. Mom didn't really hear me either. She was talking about an operation Dr. Gross did on a dog that ate a rock.
I decided to tell a dog joke, so I said,
“Question: What does a dog eat at the movies?
Answer: Pup corn!”
I was going to point out that P-U-P is a palindrome and that popcorn goes P-O-P P-O-P P-O-P, but since no one laughed, I didn't.
And okay, I realize my joke was lame, but couldn't Mom and Dad have laughed a little?
Sometimes it feels like they don't quite see me. Or hear me. It's like I'm not even at the table.
Maybe
I
should go eat a rock.
A
SUNDAY MORNING
DEAR DIARY,
Pip was on the sofa with her freckly nose in a book. “You read that book last week!” I said.
She said that when she first reads a book, it's to find out what happens, but when she rereads a book, it's like being with a friend.
Here's what I did not say: “You need
real
friends!”
Instead, I went to the basement and opened a few old boxes. In one, I found a bag of plastic animals that Pip and I used to play with. I picked out a lion cub and took it to the kitchen and put it in a jar and covered it with corn oil. Why? So it would be a lion in oil.
Get it? L-I-O-N-I-N-O-I-L is a palindrome! And I came up with it all by myself!
I put the jar on the windowsill and am waiting for M-O-M and D-A-D and P-I-P to find it and figure it out. They are going to love my little L-I-O-N-I-N-O-I-L!
AVA IN ANTICIPATION
AT SCHOOL
DEAR DIARY,
Our librarian, Mr. Ramirez, knows I'm big on words. “Ava, you like to write,” he said. “You should enter the Misty Oaks Library story contest.”
“I don't think so,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because I won't win.”
He frowned. “Well, you definitely won't win if you don't enter. Why not give it a shot?”
I wanted to say, “A shot? I'm not a doctor.” But I just listened as he explained that the story had to be four hundred words, the title had to include the name of a living creature, and the deadline was October 12.
“I'll think about it,” I said. And I have been. A lot. Maybe too much.
If I won a library contest, Mom and Dad would be proud of me for sure, so I'm trying to come up with ideas.
Like, what if I write about two crazy cats that are losing their minds? I could name them Nan (N-A-N) and Viv (V-I-V) and call the story:
SENILE FELINES
Get it? S-E-N-I-L-E-F-E-L-I-N-E-S is a palindrome!
Pretty smart, right?
>^..^< >^..^<
A-V-A A-V-A