I’m kind of digging this theater thing. Plus, there’s a cast-and-crew party on closing night.
The wrestling team and gym class situations aren’t working out as slick for me as everything else. Coach Gifford and I chatted on the phone over the weekend. Turns out he’d gotten hold of my letter and signed me up as a probie wrestler. Not a student manager. My first practice is Tuesday, but he’ll also see me after school for three weeks to run laps and do pull-ups and climb the rope because “it’s good old-fashioned sweat and hard work that’ll knock some sense into that head of yours. And I expect favorable articles about my teams in the newspaper.”
I’ve always sensed that he has a mild mean streak, but, well, at least I’ll get really buff. And JonPaul probably has lots of remedies for sore muscles and will tell me the fastest way to stop puking after I run. I’m looking at this experience as if it was basic training. Yikes.
Next, I’m writing a few sports articles for the newspaper. Considering my flair with words, how could I not be an awesome reporter? I’m going to start with an incredibly flattering interview of Coach Gifford.
Plus, Tina’s on the swim team. The paper doesn’t feature nearly enough profiles of student athletes. Meaning interviews with pictures.
Dutchdeefuddy’s parents came over Sunday afternoon to tell me they’re officially splitting up. But Markie’s getting the house in the divorce settlement; he’ll stay put and his parents will move in and out according to their allotted time with him. They’re still going to want me to babysit every week because they think I’m such a good influence.
That’s cool. Because every little kid (and probably even the not-so-little ones) needs a dutchdeefuddy he can count on.
Auntie Buzz wound up sitting next to me at Sunday dinner and passing me the rolls and acted like nothing ever happened with us.
A tiny part of me knew it was Buzz’s way of saying thanks for all the checkbook magic I did.
She said she’d hired an accountant to manage things.
She didn’t wind up applying for the TV gig after all. She was so hyped on espresso when she taped her audition that “I sounded like I was speaking chipmunk.” But she didn’t seem too disappointed, especially since her finances are okay now.
Mom and Dad and Sarah and Daniel and I have been speaking very quietly and walking very lightly; I’m sure bomb squads train this way.
And we’re all going to have to get used to having Dad around all the time. Because of his seniority in the company, he was transferred to another department, and now he’ll only have to travel a few times a year, and he’s talking about taking Mom with him when he goes.
Mom finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird to us and hauled out James Michener’s The Source. “It’s a watershed book,” she said. “You’ll love it.”
“It’s a bazillion pages,” we said. But everyone smiled when she licked her finger and said, “ ‘Chapter One: The Tell …’ ”
Sarah and Daniel and I have agreed to drive to school together in the mornings. They’ll leave a little later than they’d like and I’ll get to school a little earlier than I want to, but we can cruise through the drive-in at Donut Deelite for long johns or at BurgerBurgerBurger for breakfast sandwiches. There’s something really nice about scarfing greasy carbs with your brother and sister in the morning. Breakfast really is the most important meal of the day.
The whole family is going to start having dinner together every night, too. But Mom’s not much of a cook, and I don’t think anyone’s ever going to get used to the slow cooker spewing out what Daniel refers to as gelatinous goo. You’d think a woman who works in a bookstore would have stumbled into the cookbook aisle by now, wouldn’t you?
But we’ll be together. And maybe Sarah and Daniel and I should learn to cook.
The truth really does set you free. Who knew?
Well, everyone, I guess, except me.
The only thing is—I still haven’t gotten the chance to make Tina see that I could be the world’s greatest boyfriend. But I’m working on that.…