He races down the hall and kills the stairs. What was that about, anyway?Ĭ’mon! Walk yells back to the big white girl. This guy is nice to me even though my mother nearly creamed a guy in the crosswalk and chased down his mom’s car. I try running, even though running makes my fat jiggle. My name is Kirsten, I call after him as he thunders ahead taking the stairs two at a time. "Come on, whatever your name is, run," he shouts over his shoulder. I thought the police were gonna pull us over for going so slow. My mom’s been shining it with her toothbrush. My face flames so hot I could fry eggs on my cheeks. You don’t wanna mess with my mom and that car. Between my giggle and the extra forty pounds, I’ve got to be the coolest girl in the whole seventh grade. You have to be size three and named Barbie for my giggle. When I turn to leave, the black kid is standing next to me. Oh, great: now she’s getting weird in public, too. She’s hunting down the red car, going to drive right over it and staple it to the ground. When my mom sees the man is sticking, she shoots forward again like she’s on the chase. Her hand rotates a million miles an hour, gesturing to this poor huddled pedestrian, but the pedestrian won’t move. She swerves around a big SUV, guns it, then pounces on the brakes, coming to a squealing, screeching halt. She pounces on the accelerator and her car flies forward with the door open and the seat belt clanking the side. The red car pulls out of the drop-off and my mom’s head snaps to the front. Do you know that boy, that bla-African American kid? Her head cranes toward a guy who just got out of a red sports car. Kirsten! She unrolls the side window and beckons with her hand.
, my mom says when my feet hit the pavement. Nobody wants to see a gigantor butt coming out of a car first thing on a Monday morning, that much I know. I also consider my butt and how it will make its way out of our car. And all I can think about as my mom drives us up to the drop-off is how I really, really, really want to have a bunch of classes with Rory this year. And I said Brad Pitt had invited me to a slumber party and my mom said: You already had your snack. Kippy said there was a colony of worms living in the laundry hamper and my mom said: Leave your muddy shoes outside. We even tried a little experiment on them. They stopped seeing my little sister, Kippy, and me, and they definitely stopped hearing what we said. They probably don’t even have crap on Maui.īesides Rory being gone all summer, my only other friend in the whole world, Nellie, moved away and my mom and dad fought all the time. Trust me, it was bad.įor starters I hardly saw my best friend in the whole world, Rory. This is lame but I’m actually looking forward to school this year, because every day this summer was like crap: dog crap, cat crap-I even had a few elephant crap days.
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