Ava XOX (9 page)

DEAR DIARY,

For Meatless Monday, Dad made kale quiche and a salad with fava beans, avocado, radishes, and quinoa. If I had to grade dinner, I'd give it a 75.

I don't get why quinoa is so popular, but maybe I don't understand popularity.

After dinner, I opened the drawer by my bed because I wanted to take a peek at my pack of gum. The one Chuck gave me. I thought it would make me feel warm. And calm. And happy.

Well, I opened the drawer and…the pack was opened! There were two crinkled wrappers and two missing pieces!

I barged into Pip's room without even knocking. “PIP!” I screamed. “What did you do?”

She was under the covers reading
I Is for Innocent
. “What?”

“That was
my gum
!” I said loudly.

She looked confused.

“You opened my pack of GUM!”

She stared at me. “Since when is that a federal crime?”

This might sound stupid, but since you are my diary and you can't laugh or tell anyone, I will tell you what I did next: I started to cry. To
bawl
.

“Whoa, whoa, Ava, I can buy you a new pack,” Pip offered.

“Chuck gave me
that pack
,” I said, gulping. “You can't just replace it. It was special. It was”—I looked up at Ben's card on her bulletin board—“like a valentine.”

“Chuck?” Pip asked, wide-eyed. “Chuck-Chuck?”

I nodded and felt like an idiot.

“You should have told me.”

I shrugged, because what was I supposed to have told her? That I had a crush on my best guy friend since kindergarten, but he was going out with Headband Kelli? Or that Chuck gave me a pack of gum, and it felt like a present. And a secret. A secret present.

I hadn't told anyone. Not even Maybelle!

Some things are so private, I can only tell
you
.

What I
did
say was, “Pip, I have secrets too.”

“I'm sorry, Ava, I didn't know,” she said softly.

I nodded and finally said, “It's all right.” I liked that lately Pip has been acting more like a big sister. “But
don't
take
any
more pieces!”

“Of course not!”

“Pinkie promise?”

“Pinkie promise,” she said, and we hooked pinkies. And now I'm going to sleep because I'm tired as can be.

AVA, A TO ZZZZ

DEAR DIARY,

I asked Dad if I could stay home from school instead of going to the emergency assembly. He said no but offered to sit in the back if I wanted. I was about to say sure, but then I pictured Rorie and Lacey and Valeria and Jayda and Mackie making fun of me for having my “daddy” there to protect me. So I said, “It's okay.” The words came out funny, because each one had to get around the lump in my throat. And because it was
not
okay.

Pip and I walked to school, and on the way, I asked if she knew who Kelli was. She said, “The pretty blond girl who's kind of full of herself?”

“Yes,” I said. But then I thought: Aren't we all full of ourselves? Who else could we be full of?

AVA, TRYING TO HAVE PERSPECTIVE

PS Then again, I still don't get why Chuck even likes her. Does he truly like-like her? Why did she ever have to move to Misty Oaks anyway?

DEAR DIARY,

It feels like everyone keeps looking at me. I think everyone heard that a group of older kids ganged up on a fifth grader and “defaced her property.” But I think everyone also heard that the kid was an insensitive smarty-pants know-it-all who was so full of herself that she'd probably tell Santa to go on a diet. And I think everyone knows exactly who's who and thinks it's my fault the P-E-P rally got postponed. Which I guess it is.

Still, here's why it doesn't really feel fair:

1.
I would
never
tell Santa to go on a diet.

2.
I'm not insensitive. If anything, I'm
too
sensitive.

3.
If Tanya hadn't
asked
for tips, I would never have come up with the list.

All I
mean
is,
well
, I'm not a
mean
person; I'm a
well
-
mean
ing person.

Since you're my diary, I will admit two things. Number one, I guess I'd been hoping that people would like our tips and Bea and I might even get a little recognition. (Is that a crime?) And number two, I did say something mean out loud today at lunch. I told Zara that I thought Kelli's rainbow headband was stupid-looking. I couldn't help it. It just popped out.

Instead of agreeing, Zara said, “But, Ava, why do you care so much? Maham wears colorful hijabs, and I bet you don't think twice about it.” I looked at Maham, and it was true: today the hijab covering her head and neck is peacock blue, and other days she wears other colors, and I barely notice. (I used to, back when she first came to school.) And believe me, I realize that a head
scarf
has nothing to with a head
band
. But I could see Zara's point.

Then again, what did Zara expect me to say?
“I care about Kelli because I care about Chuck, and Chuck and Kelli care about each other.”
Not a chance! And anyway, Zara may have halfway figured this all out.

The other reason why I've been obsessing extra is that I saw this on Kelli's notebook:

C

H

U

C

K E L L I

Maybe I'm a K-O-O-K, but I don't like that Chuck and Kelli have the letter K in common. He and I don't have any letters in common. Let alone limbo. Or sports.

AVA, MISUNDERSTOOD

DEAR DIARY,

Usually when we sit down for an assembly, all you hear is everyone talking. Well, today, while we were finding our seats, Mr. Ramirez put on a catchy song called “Respect.” When he turned it off, he told us that the singer was Aretha Franklin and asked us to spell out the word. So we did: “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.”

“I can't hear you,” he said, which was funny because as a librarian, he's usually shushing us.

“R.E.S.P.E.C.T.,” we repeated.

“And what's that spell?”

“Respect!” we shouted.

“I can't hear you!” he said.

“RESPECT!” we shouted even more loudly.

“I still can't hear you!” he said, cupping his ear.

“
RESPECT!
” we yelled at the top of our lungs.

“That's right. And from now on, I want you to be more respectful of your classmates, yourselves, and other people's work. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Is it?”

“
YES!
”

No one snickered, and by now Mr. Ramirez sounded so serious, it made me wonder if
he
had ever been disrespected.

Next Principal Gupta stepped up and introduced the two speakers.

The first was a therapist in a suit and bow tie. He talked about
b
ullying and
b
ystanders and
b
oundaries,
b
ut he was
b
oring. Also, one of his pants' legs was twisted into his sock, which was distracting.

The second was a young nurse
practi
tioner whose advice was more
practi
cal and who had lots of twisty braids wrapped around her head.

“Your parents used to take care of you,” she began. “Now you're learning to take care of yourselves.” She said that chips and cookies have “empty” or “useless” calories, and we should eat real food and read labels and buy products with ingredients our “grandparents would recognize.” She said little treats are fine, but if you get in the habit of “double desserts” and “emotional eating,” you'll “jeopardize” your “long-term health” because obesity is linked to diabetes and heart and liver troubles.

“I'm not blaming or shaming,” she said, “just sharing vital info. When it comes to weight, there's no magic pill, no one-size-fits-all advice.” She said that kids have different body types and grow at different rates, and that some have “an easier relationship” with food than others, but we should all cut back on meat and sugar. She also said what Dad had said: that it doesn't help that food that is good for you costs more than food that is bad for you.

Soon it was time for questions, but I kept my head down, because the last thing I wanted was for more people to look at me.

A girl asked about anorexia, and the nurse practitioner said it is a serious disease, because if you don't eat enough, you can literally starve to death. She said bulimia is “life-threatening” too, because if you barf up your food, it can mess up your whole system, “even the back of your teeth.” (She didn't say “barf”; she said “purge.”) A sixth grader asked about skipping lunch, and she said, “It's better to have a glass of milk and a piece of whole wheat bread than nothing at all.

“Listen,” she said, looking out at us. “I get that this can be tricky. Adults can say, ‘Don't smoke' and ‘Don't do drugs,' but no one can say, ‘Don't eat.' You
need
to eat! So you have to learn to be
sensible
about it. If you need help, get help.”

The therapist with the hitched-up pant leg took back the mike again. “I want to add that there's
not
a ‘fine line' between
underweight
or
overweight
. The majority of kids are in the middle.” He looked out at us and nodded as if proving his own point. “And the goal is
not
to be thin—it's to be healthy and active and self-accepting.”

I thought that was the end, but he said, “By the way, your principal told me you've been studying Botero.” I could feel myself tensing up, and the whole room got a little extra quiet. Why was he reminding us of last week's disaster—not that anyone had forgotten? “Well, you might find it interesting that centuries ago,” he continued, “if someone was curvy, that was prestigious. It was a sign of wealth! It meant that person wasn't going hungry. The painting
The Three Graces
by Rubens shows three very full-figured women.”

For a second, I wondered if he was going to whip out a naked ladies art poster. But he didn't, and soon Principal Gupta hopped up and thanked both speakers. We all clapped, and as we filed out, Mr. Ramirez put the “Respect” song back on.

I bet I'll be spelling that word in my head for a long time.

A.V.A.W.R.E.N.

PS After school, I saw Lacey by the buses. She did not look at me
respect
fully. She gave me what Uncle Patrick calls “the hairy eyeball.” So I tried to ignore her. Like the lion in the fable did to the a_ _.

DEAR DIARY,

Maybelle called, and we talked about the assembly. She said, “Maybe I'm lucky, but I don't really get tempted to eat way too little or way too much.”

“Same,” I said. “Except on Halloween. Or when a tray of cookies is coming out of the oven.”

“Kelli said her mom is a ‘fitness nut,'” Maybelle said. “She spends
entire
mornings or afternoons at the gym—and she's not a professional athlete or anything.”

I tried to picture Candi running on a treadmill for hours on end.

Maybelle continued. “My parents say, ‘Everything in moderation, including moderation.'”

“I like that,” I said. And then I
allllll
most told her I also like Chuck—but I didn't.

AVA THE MODERATE

DEAR DIARY,

Dad showed me a funny sentence on his computer: “English is weird. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.” I asked him to print it out so I could show it to Mrs. Lemons.

We started talking about all the ways to pronounce
ough
and about silent letters in general. Like the
d
in
handsome
, or
b
in
dumb
, or
l
in
salmon
, or
t
in
castle
.

Or the
g
in
gnat
and
gnu
and
gnaw
.

Or the
k
in
knife
or
knickknacks
and
knock-knock
jokes.

I wanted to tell Dad a knock-knock joke, but I couldn't think of one because, well, I haven't heard any new ones in a while.

AVA WREN (WITH A SILENT
W
)

DEAR DIARY,

Dad needed eggs, so I went with him to the grocery store. I grabbed some cans of chicken soup, but then I read the label, and there was so much sodium (salt) and so many strange-sounding chemicals that the ingredients sounded like a practice list for a spelling bee.

I put the cans back and picked out a different brand.

We were about to leave when I saw Chuck in the produce aisle! He was with his mom, so at first, I kept my distance. But then his very tall mom started talking to the very short butcher, so I gave Chuck a wave, and he walked over.

I felt a little nervous and blurted, “I have a joke,” even though he's usually the one with the jokes. “What word becomes shorter when you add two letters to it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What word becomes
shorter
when you add two letters to it?” I repeated.

After a few seconds, he said, “I give up.”

“Short! Get it? SHORT + ER = SHORTER!”

He laughed, and we talked about yesterday's assembly.

Suddenly my heart started beating. “Chuck?” I said. “Speaking of R-E-S-P-E-C-T, when Kelli told you that Tanya could model for that Botero guy, that wasn't very nice. And Tanya was
right there
.”

Chuck didn't say anything.

“Do you really like her?” I asked softly. “Like
like-like
?” I couldn't believe I was asking him this. It's one thing for me to ask this question over and over in my head, but another to ask him out loud. “You two have been going out for sixteen days.”

Omigod!! Now he knew I'd been counting!! I wanted to stay quiet, but more words came flying out. I wondered if I was putting my cards on the table (instead of holding them close to my chest). “I know it's none of my business,” I said, “but not minding my own business might be one of my weaknesses. And I'm still sort of surprised that you two are boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Part of me wanted to go racing down the aisle and dive behind the display of organic pancake mix. But another part wanted to hear his answer.

“Me too,” he mumbled.

“Wait.
You're
sort of surprised that you two are going out?”

He nodded.

“I don't get it.”

“Me neither,” he said. “It all happened so fast!”

“Wait. What?”

“Everything! One minute, I was on the bus, starving because I'd overslept. The next, Kelli offered me banana bread, so I took some. And suddenly we were in homeroom, and she was asking if I wanted to go out, and I don't know… I think I checked the circle because I didn't want to hurt her feelings.”

He was looking at his sneakers, but I was looking at his face, his cheeks and nose and eyelashes. If I were older, I probably would have given him a hug or something.

“But what about
your
feelings?”

He gave a tiny nod. “She does call our house a lot. Like twice a day. My mom doesn't like it.” He looked over at his mom. “I tell her it's about homework—but sometimes I just say, ‘Mom, don't pick up,' because I don't always want to talk.” He looked back at me and added, “Kelli
always
wants to talk. Especially about her dog.”

“Snuggles,” I offered.

“Snuggles,” Chuck repeated. His eyes were soft and brown. “And she always wants us to sit together. Like every chance there is.”

He was frowning, but I wanted to do a happy dance right there in front of the lemons and limes. If I knew how to juggle, I might have been tempted to juggle the lemons and limes and clementines, all while balancing on a watermelon.

“Maybe you could tell Kelli that your mom figured out that her calls weren't about homework, and she got mad and she's making you break up?”
Omigod
, I thought.
Did I really just say that?

“I don't know,” Chuck mumbled.

“All I mean is, you checked a circle. You didn't sign a contract in blood.”

“True.” He looked like he was considering this. “Ava, you know what you said about not minding your own business?”

“Yeah.”

“I don't think that's a weakness.”

“You don't?”

“Maybe sometimes it's the opposite. Maybe sometimes, it's a…strength.”

I almost said that STRENGTH is a cool word because it has eight letters and only one is a vowel. Instead I told
that
part of my brain to SHUT UP. “Chuck,” I said, “just remember that y
our
feelings count too.”

I hoped it wasn't dumb of me to be giving advice when I'm not a psychotherapist and my advice isn't always right.

Then again, what are “friends” for?

Just then, his very tall mom came over with her cart, so I said hello—and good-bye.

AVA, OUTSPOKEN?