Lisa and the Angels Rock!!!

Me and Snobby Stacie, Part Four

2009-10-29T06:56:00.000-07:00

I'm back! Yeah, I've had a busy year (to say the least).

Those of you who were waiting for the chapter where Cyndi gets tied to a tree have probably beyond lost interest, but ... here is the segment! (Better late than never?)

The following three chapters may be the most ridiculous writing ever put to paper by anyone, ever. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Chapter Ten

(Since it's been so long -- and in case you don't feel like re-reading the last entry -- I should remind you that the previous chapter ended with Cyndi and Stacie suddenly in the midst of some prank war. This picks up from there...)

Ding-dong. I opened the door.

"Cynthia Wellman, how could you?!!"

Stacie Barnes stood on my front door, her face red, her nostrils flaring.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, don't you play innocent with me! A man came to my door with five boxes of chocolates and said that Cynthia Wellman ordered them!"

(So since Stacie's so mad her nostrils are flaring, I guess that means the chocolate-delivery man also made her pay for them? Why not just tell him he has the wrong house and send him back to Cyndi's? I wish my town had a chocolate-delivery man...)

"Well, you did it to me, so I did it to you."

(Cutting, Cyndi. I'm sure Markey's Chocolates appreciates the business!)

"Hmmm!"

(Note, I think Stacie's catchphrase "hmmm!" is supposed to be more like Hmmph!)

I pretended to sigh. "Stacie, Stacie."

"What?!"

"You may not have liked the chocolates, but I'll bet you'll like something else."

"What?!"

I threw a cherry pie that my mother had bought in her face.

"Oh!"

She slammed the door. I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Stacia Ann Barnes was such a weirdo!

(Okay, where do I even begin? The cherry pie that just happened to be sitting there by the door? Who does Cyndi think she is, Betsy Sobak? Who throws a cherry pie in someone's face? Maybe Cyndi can look into clown school after Lisa and the Angels become has-beens?

Also, I hope Mrs. Wellman gives her a good spanking for wasting a whole pie. And how does Cyndi know Stacie's middle name?!

Speaking of Stacie -- I love how she just stands there after getting a pie thrown at her and slams Cyndi's door in her face. Oh, wait ... her revenge is coming up next!)

***

I put on a black mini-dress, a pair of black nylons, black flats, and a black bow. It sort of looked like an outfit that Stacie had.

(That's ... nice? ... and sort of creepy that Cyndi is now dressing like Stacie. Their outfit sounds very "Laine Cummings." Minus the bangle bracelet and squiggle pin.)

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Can I go outside?"

"Certainly."

"Thanks!"

(I guess it's the next day?)

I grabbed my jean-jacket and walked outside. Good! Stacie was there!

I tiptoed over to her and knocked her down.

"Hey!"

I pulled her hair.

"Ouch!"

Then I punched her back five times and hit her on the head. I picked her up by the hair and slapped her in the face. Then I picked up a handful of dirt and threw it in her face. I pushed her down.

"Serves you right!"

I ran inside.

(What the ...?!? What was that? I wasn't exactly a violent kid, so I really have no idea where the above came from! Maybe it was all the wrestling I watched back then?

I don't know, but I have to admit that, after all these years, I still can't read the words "punched her back five times" with a straight face. Hang on, it gets even better!)

"Cyndi, what was that yelling?" Mom asked.

"Oh, nothing."

The next day, I got dressed (what, no outfit for us?) and ran outside. It was Sunday, but there was no school tomorrow, for State Inservice Day.

I suddenly fell to the ground. Someone was tying my hands behind my back. I had a feeling I knew who it was.

"Stacie Ann Barnes, let go of me this instant!"

"No!"

I knew it was her! She tied my feet together. The rope was too tight. I couldn't break out!

Stacie picked me up by the hair and the shirt. Boy, was she strong! She ran and ran and ran with me. Once, she dropped me and I scraped my hands. Finally, she stopped running.

(Oh, boy. An 11-year-old girl running through town, carrying another 11-year-old girl -- all tied up -- by the hair and shirt. With one hand, I assume. And to think, she only drops Cyndi one time. Can this be any stupider? We haven't even gotten to the tree part yet!)

I saw a sign that said: Closed. Owners on Vacation. We were at a park. One of those parks that looked like woods. I looked at the sign. It said: Woodland Park.

Stacie dragged me deep into the park. She threw me against a tree. Then she got out some rope.

"NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Shut up!"

She quickly tied me to the tree. Then she ran off.

"Help!"

No one heard me. "Help!!!"

Still, no one heard me. "HELP!!!!!!!"

It was no use. I sighed. I wondered how long I would be here. What would I eat? I don't (sic) want to be a little skinnybones like Carrie.

(Okay? Cyndi, you're frickin' tied to a tree in a deserted, wooded park. Never mind the "skinnybones", I think you should be more worried about becoming just bones!)

"Help! Someone, help!!!!!!"

(Oh, no, will Cyndi die?! I won't leave you in suspense -- here's the next chapter!)

Chapter Eleven

I was bored. It was Tuesday ... I hadn't had anything to eat since Sunday morning. Carrie + Cyndi= Skeleton Twins. I laughed.

I wondered how Racquelle and Kathy were doing at their quietness. I wondered how lonely Lisa was.

(For a starving person on her third day tied to a tree, Cyndi's mind seems to be functioning awfully well...)

Hey! A berry patch! (How convenient!) Were they poisonous? I was a Girl Scout when I was six, seven, eight, and nine years old. Maybe I could remember if it was poisonous ... it wasn't!

I carefully turned my head around and grabbed some with my mouth. I felt weird. At least I had food.

Wait! Was that a stream? Yes! The water looked sort of dirty. But right by it, I saw a log. In it was a pipe ... with water!

I turned around, and somehow managed to turn it on with my chest. (Boobs to the rescue!) I drank a lot. Oh, how good it tasted! Except, I hope I wouldn't have to eat berries and water forever!

Well, I was in luck. I always got either nuts, grapes and water, berries and water, grapes and water, or nuts, berries and water.

(Yes, I'm sure Albany's state parks are flourishing with grapes and nuts...)

But one day, the food was all gone. I had eaten all of it. The water was the only thing there.

So I was going to be a skinnybones! I'd probably get something like anorexia (what?), and ... oh, it was just awful!

One day, I heard a rustle in the bushes.

"Who's there?!"

A little girl appeared. "Hey! What are you doing tied to that tree in my daddy's and mommy's park?"

"Um ... someone tied me here. Please go get your mom and ... mommy and daddy."

"Okay!"

(Oh, phew, Cyndi's been found. I know you were getting worried. And look, she's even still coherent enough to remember to call her little rescuer's mom "mommy.")

The girl ran off. A couple of minutes later, I saw a man with a mustache and beard, and a tall lady with stringy blonde hair.

"Little girl!" said the lady.

(Note, Stringy Hair's talking to Cyndi now, not her daughter.)

"What?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

"Have you eaten anything? You look skinny as a stick!"

"I've eaten some nuts, berries, grapes, and water."

"Oh, little girl. Follow us." They walked to a big, four-story house.

(Who untied Cyndi?! Who apparently can walk just fine...)

"What is your number?" asked the lady.

"272-5341."

The lady dialed my number.

"Hello ... My name is Lynn Baker ... I'm over at Woodland Park. Is your daughter missing? ... She's right here ... What's her name? ... Just a sec."

"Is your name Cyndi?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Cyndi ... What's your address? ... I'll drive her over ... okay, bye."

"Okay, Cyndi, we're going to drive you home right now."

"Okay!"

(Yeah, no police or anything ... no missing person report ... it just keeps getting more realistic!)

Mr. and Mrs. Baker drove me home.

"Oh, Cyndi!"

"Hi, Dad!"

"Oh, hello!"

Dad gave me a big hug and kiss.

(Did he recoil from her smell? After two weeks without a bath, or a bathroom, I can only imagine ...)

"Where's Mom?"

"Your mom is ... in the hospital."

"In the hospital? Is she sick?"

"No, she's with ... your little sister, Emily Candace Wellman."

"My sister?! Oh, Dad!!!"

"Do you want to go visit her?"

"Not now."

"Why not?"

"I wanna call some of my friends."

(?!? Of all the stupid reasons. Get some priorities, Cyndi!)

First I called Carrie. (Groan, not more one-sided phone calls.) "Hi, Carrie! It's Cyndi! ... I was gone for two weeks ... Tied to a tree ... Woodland Park ... Stacie ... Stacie Barnes ... I know ... My mom had a baby ... Yeah! ... It's a girl. Her name is Emily ... Emily Candace Wellman ... Beats me ... Bye."

I called Kathy.

"Hi, Kathy! It's me, Cyndi! ... Tied to a tree ... In Woodland Park ... Stacie Barnes ... A rich girl that lives next door to me ... My mom had her baby ... A girl ... Emily Candace Wellman ... I know! ... I don't know ... Okay ... Okay ... Bye."

Next, I called Racquelle. "Hi! It's me, Cyndi ... Hi, again! ... Tied to a tree in Woodland Park ... Stacie Barnes ... A rich girl next door to me ... I know ... My mom had her baby ... A girl! Her name is Emily Candace Wellman ... I know ... Okay ... Bye."

Finally, I called Lisa. "Hi, Lisa! It's Cyndi ... Tied to a tree ... In Woodland Park ... Stacie Barnes ... A girl ... You know ... My mom had her baby ... I know! ... A girl ... Emily ... Emily Candace Wellman ... Oh, I know! ... I'm going to see Mom and the baby ... Okay ... Bye."

(Ha, judging from those thrilling calls, not only do Cyndi's friends seem to be sharing one brain, they barely even noticed she was gone!)

"Cyndi?"

"Yeah?"

"Come on!"

(Ew ... let her take a bath at least, Mr. Wellman.)

We drove to Albany General Hospital. Then we took the elevator up to floor fourteen, the highest floor. We walked to room 14D. Dad opened the door. Mom was on the bed, but I couldn't see Emily.

Mom opened her eyes. "Dave. Cyndi!!!"

"Sshhh," said Dad.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad to see you."

"Me, too," I said.

"Do you want to see Emily?"

"Yeah."

I tiptoed over to Mom. In a white blanket was a tiny brown-haired baby with a red face.

"Oh, she's so cute," I said.

Dad and Mom started to talk. (Cyndi's own mother barely noticed she was gone!) I peeked inside a cabinet. Books and paper were there.

"Can I draw something?" I asked.

Dad nodded. I drew a picture of a rainbow with birds and clouds.

(Yes, I actually drew this; tragically, I can't scan it.)

Then I thought for awhile. I wondered how it would be if I were friends with Stacie. I decided to write a very short story and draw a picture.

US:
Once a girl named Cyndi had five friends. Racquelle, Kathy, Lisa, Carrie, and Blackey. One day, a girl named Stacie joined their group. They called it Us. The end.

(That's it?! Lame, Cyndi. Though, it was nice of her to include her dog in her quote-unquote story. There's an accompanying picture, by the way ... also "sadly" non-scannable.)

I laughed.

"Cyndi, we're going home," said Dad.

"Just one second. When are you and Emily coming home, Mom?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh, goody."

Dad and I drove home. I wondered what it would be like if Stacie did join our group. Racquelle, Stacie, Kathy, Lisa, Cyndi, Carrie. (So much for Blackey...) They sounded good together. Us. That sounded good, too.

I decided making friends with Stacia Ann Barnes was a wonderful idea.

(Yeah, if someone tied me up and left me for dead in a deserted park, I suppose I might try to get on their good side, too. You know what they say, keep your friends close...!)

Chapter Twelve

I decided to wear a Stacie-like outfit. I put on the outfit I wore when I first met Stacie. (Some black dress again.) Then I ran downstairs and ate breakfast.

"Cyndi, we've got to go right now!"

"Okay."

I stood up. Dad looked at me.

"Boy, you look nice. You always do." The he sighed. "My favorite older daughter is growing up."

I giggled. Then we drove to the hospital. I was sure glad to be home!

***

We were at home now, Mom on the couch holding Emily, Dad right next to her, me on the floor.

"Now, tell me," said Mom. "How did you get to Woodland Park without finding a way out for two weeks?"

"Well, you know Stacie?" Mom and Dad nodded. "I was enemies with her then, but now I want to make friends with her. Anyway, she picked me up ... wait, she tied my hands and legs together, and dragged me to Woodland. Then she tied me to a tree. I survived by sneaking nuts, berries, and grapes. And water."

"Oh, Cyndi!"

Mom and Dad both hugged me.

"Wahh!!!!!"

We all laughed while Mom took care of Emily.

(How nice and cozy, but shouldn't they be, I don't know, calling the police on Stacie? Or packing up and running like &%$# before Stacie pulls her next psychotic stunt?)

"Can I go outside?"

"Sure."

"Oh, good."

(Well, maybe they want Stacie to kill Cyndi!)

I walked outside. Shelley and Sheena were out.

(A three-year-old and a two-year-old? Concerned parents abound in this neighborhood...)

"Doggy-girl!" said Sheena.

"Listen, could you please get your sister Stacie?"

"Okay," said Shelley. She ran inside.

Pretty soon, Stacie was outside. She was wearing a glittery pink dress.

(A reminder that Lisa and the Angels started out as Barbie dolls ... whichever one was Stacie had a "glittery" pink gown.)

"Um, hi!" I said.

"What do you want?"

"I'm sorry about all of the things I did." I grinned. "Can we be friends?"

"No," Stacie said matter-of-factly.

I sighed. "Why not?"

"You're not sorry. Everybody says that, but they never mean it. Why should I believe you?"

(Poor, suddenly-angsty Stacie!)

"Why not?" I said. "I really and truly am sorry."

"Sure."

"I am!"

"You could go on and keep saying that, because I'm never going to believe you and never ever are going to be friends with you."

I sighed again. "Why?!"

"Because."

"Because isn't an answer, Stacie."

"I don't care, Ms. Goody-Goody Two Shoes!"

"I am not a Goody-Goody Two Shoes!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Fine, you little snob, why would I want to be friends with you, anyway!"

Stacie yanked my hair (!!!) and wouldn't let go until she suddenly fell to the ground.

"Hmmm!"

Stacie was about to run into her house, but instead ran smack into Kathy, the one who knocked her down.

"Whoever you are, don't knock me down again!" She ran inside.

Kathy and I laughed and laughed. "Thanks, Kath," I said.

"Hey, no prob!"

I laughed.

"Was that Stacie Barnes?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, she's awful! Just awful!"

"No kidding!"

"What was she doing?"

"I was just trying to make friends with her, and she grabbed my hair."

Kathy made a face. (Kathy sounds very cool.) I laughed again.

"Well, I'm going to some relatives not far away, so bye."

"Bye," I said.

I laughed again. (Quit with the crazy laughing, Cyndi...) Then I thought for awhile. Last year, Kathy wasn't friends with me at all. Then she wasn't extra-friendly, but she was nice. Now we're super friends.

I'm so glad I have friends like Kathy. I mean, my friends are so nice. Much better than Stacie. Man, an idea like having Stacie for a friend was so stupid! So, so stupid!

***

And that does it for this round. Speaking of "so, so stupid" -- coming up next: Cyndi calls the police on Josephine! And hops a boxcar!

Me and Snobby Stacie, Part Three

2009-05-01T05:39:00.000-07:00

Gasp, an update! This has undoubtedly been my busiest year EVER so far. Between getting married, switching doctors, working extra at the radio station, and preparing for a honeymoon in Europe next month, I've ... well, neglected my blog(s) more than usual. So I MUST take advantage of this free moment to give you more old-school Lisa and the Angels (before they were rock stars!).

Unfortunately, this segment isn't nearly as classic as the one coming up after it -- it's pretty much all outfits and one-sided phone calls. Well, I guess the outfits make it slightly more entertaining, particularly Stacie's bizarre reaction to Cyndi's all-white get-up in Chapter Nine... but still.

Anyway.

Chapter Seven

My days were long and boring and restless.

(Poor, poor Cyndi. That opening really makes me want to continue reading, by the way.)

One day, the phone rang.

(And here it gets even more fascinating...)

"Hi, this is Cyndi ... Carrie! ... Out for the day? Wonderful! Great! ... Sure ... Bye!!!"

(In case you couldn't tell, since it's so clear, I'm pretty sure Carrie just told Cyndi over the phone that Mean Aunt Josephine was out for the day, then invited her over.)

I ran to Carrie's.

"Hi, Cyndi! Am I glad to see you!"

I stared at Carrie. She was wearing some long, baggy blue pants and a flowered blouse. Her hair was messy. Her face was pale, and her cheeks were kind of sunken. She looked quite thin.

("Hot." I was a little obsessed with the image of "sunken cheeks" back then; don't ask me why. Was that in a Sweet Valley book?)

"Carrie?"

"Yeah?"

"When was the last time you drank water?"

"This morning."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Wednesday."

It was Saturday.

(GAAAASP!)

"Carrie!"

"What?"

"She's not even your mom! (what, starving Carrie would be okay if Josephine was her mom?) She can't do that! I'm telling!"

"Cyndi, NO!"

"Why? Does she beat you?"

(Wow! Blunt, aren't we, Cyndi?)

"No. It's just that... well, I'm afraid she will."

"Carrie, somebody's gotta tell, or you'll die of starvation ... and humiliation!" I looked at her clothes. "You look like an old lady!"

(And ever so sympathetic, too. I should note here that Carrie's "baggy"-blue-pants-and-flowered-blouse outfit was directly inspired by one of my then-teacher's regular getups. My teacher was about 67. Her pants -- which, by the way, were navy blue -- actually fit her, seeing as she wasn't being starved, like poor Carrie ... at least, not to the best of my knowledge.)

"I know ... but, Cyndi, don't tell! She feeds me every two or three days. And she feeds me eggs and bagels then. She'll feed me today. I know she will."

I looked doubtful.

"Cyndi, I won't be able to trust you if you tell."

"I won't tell! Now, before your parents died, how much did you weigh?"

Carrie glared at me. "Seventy-six!"

"How much are you now?"

"Seventy!"

"That's six pounds, Carrie. Six pounds!"

"Leave me alone!"

"What did you eat last?"

"A jellybean, now leave ... me ... ALONE!"

(One jellybean? What happened to the eggs and bagels?)

"Fine! I'll just go tell!"

"Fine! I knew you didn't care!"

"I do care! And goodbye!" I ran outside.

"Good riddance!" I heard Carrie scream.

I burst into tears. Nothing was going right! I lost one friend (maybe two, if Blackey dies).

I couldn't wait until ... well, probably Racquelle would heal first. So I couldn't wait for her to get better!

(Yes, I remember describing Lisa, Kathy, and Racquelle's gratuitous injuries to my dad and asking him which would heal first, and he told me a "damaged bicep" would probably heal the fastest. Lisa had a "crushed leg", you may recall, and Kathy had some head injury that had her near death. Of course, all three of them are fine before the end of this story.)
***

I woke up and put on a very short bleached jean skirt, and a big baggy bright-colored sweater. Then I put on some white nylons and denim flats. I put a denim bow in my hair.

(Cyndi, you fashion plate! I wonder if her denim flats and bow are also "bleached.")

Hmm, what should I do today? I know! I'll call radio stations!

(Thrilling!)

I dialed a number.

"Hello, WSVW, where are you calling from?"

"Albany."

"And how old are you?"

"Eleven."

"What may I do for you?"

"Could you play 'I Think We're Alone Now'?"

"I'll sure try."

"Okay."

"Thanks for calling, bye."

"Bye."

(I don't doubt that would be Tiffany's version of that song Cyndi requested, not Tommy James and the Shondells'. Oh... my siblings and I used to call radio stations all the time, and the deejays at one of them always asked us how old we were. At the time, I figured they kept some sort of age tally, but like they weren't just humoring the little brats that were bugging them during their shift.)

I dialed another number. 555-WNLS.

"Hello, WNLS, this is Rob."

"Can you play 'I Get Around'?"

"Sure! Bye!"

"Bye."

(She might not know Tommy James and the Shondells, but Cyndi probably would know "I Get Around", even though it's an "oldie" -- this was written right around the time that "Kokomo" was a huge hit, and the Beach Boys were on every other episode of Full House.)

543-8210.

"Hello, WROR, who is this?"

"My name is Cynthia Marie Wellman."

(Dork.)

"And what may I do for you?"

"Can you play ... 'Don't Rush Me'?"

"We'll play that right now."

530-2020. "Hello, WCON, you're on the radio."

"Can you play 'In the Darkness'?"

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Oh, my gosh! I was on the radio!

(Hate to burst your bubble, Cyndi, but I don't think they're going to use your sound bite; I had to google "In the Darkness" to find out what it even was, and now vaguely remember it as the B-side to the aforementioned Taylor Dayne hit "Don't Rush Me." B-sides, just what most radio stations love...)

1-800-321-4040. "Hello, WNDY, country music."

"Oh, um ... could you play 'Daddy's Hands'?"

"'Daddy's Hands' ... I'll sure try."

"Okay."

("Daddy's Hands" was the only country song I "knew" back then; I didn't even really know it, but knew the chorus from some Tife Life classic country infomercial. My sister and I thought it was utterly dorky and would sometimes sing it out loud in mocking voices.)

This day was going okay. I decided to call the three hospital girls. You could only call one a day. I would disguise my voice for Kathy and Lisa.

(Don't ask me where I came up with that rule for a hospital ... and btw, this has almost as much to do with the rest of the story as the radio station phone calls.)

"Hello, may I please speak to Racquelle Arlington?"

"Yes, you may."

Pause.

"Hi! ... (Who is this?! says Racquelle...) Cyndi! How're you doing? ... Is your arm okay? ... Guess what ... Carrie, well, don't tell anyone, but ..." (I lowered my voice.) "She's being starved. She weighs seventy pounds! But we're in a fight! ... Yeah ... yeah, bye!"

I waited for two minutes. Then I pressed re-dial. "Cen I pleeze tok to Leeza McOrrill?"

"Yes, but she doesn't have her wheelchair yet, so you'll have to call her bed number."

(Huh?)

"Whoot iz thot?"

"435-9210."

"Thonk yoo."

(Zzzz. What an annoying "accent.")

"Okay."

I dialed the number. "Hi, Lisa! ... Cyndi! Is your leg okay? ... Oh, that's too bad! Guess what ... Carrie's being starved! ... I know! And Blackey's sick ... I know. Well, bye!"

I waited for two more minutes. Then I pressed re-dial again. "Hi-eee!" (My voice sounded like a little kid's.) "Can I pweeze talk to Kaffy Bew?"

"Sure!"

"'kay."

"But you'll have to call her bed number."

"Which is what?"

"435-9211."

"Okay. Fank you."

"Okay."

I dialed the number. "Hi, Kathy! It's Cyndi! ... Perfect! Well, bored! Carrie's being starved! And Blackey's sick! ... Racquelle's your room-mate? Oh! Can I talk to her? ... Thanks!... Hi, Racquelle! ... I forgot to tell you something ... Blackey's sick. Really sick (You dragged her back to the phone for that?! Depressing much?!) ... I know. Bye ... Hi, Kath! ... Okay. Bye!"

I sighed. My friends were still in the hospital (Blackey, too). (I guess a vet is a "hospital.") And I lost one. Things were horrible. Just horrible!

Chapter Eight

One day, the phone rang.

(My writing skills here just astound me.)

"Hello ... Animal C-care's V-vet? ... Yes, this is the Wellmans' ... My dog! Nice and healthy?! Yippee! ... Soon, oh, soon! ... Bye!!!"

Blackey was better!!!

I put on a pair of tight blue jeans with five dark blue bows up the sides and a light blue International News sweater. Then I put a dark blue bow in my hair. Then I put on some white socks and some dark blue Keds.

(A true late 80s ensemble ... though five bows on her jeans sounds a bit much.)

"Mom, Dad! Blackey's better!"

"Oh, that's great, honey!" said Mom.

"Lucky thing it's Saturday," said Dad. School was resuming on Monday.

(No kidding, school resumes on a Monday? What a weird response from Daddy Wellman...)

"C'mon!" I said.

"Okay, okay."

We drove to the vet.

"Hi," said Dr. Robinson.

"Hi," I said. She walked into a room and came out carrying Blackey!

(That's some fast service!)

"Oh, oh, Blackey!" I grabbed him and hugged him. Mom smiled at Dad. (Snicker.)

"Oh, Blackey!"

"Come on, Cyndi," said Dad.

"Okay!" We drove home.

***

"Honey?" Dad asked.

"Yeah?"

"Not you, dear. Shari."

"Okay."

(I think this is the only time Mrs. Wellman is referred to as "Shari"; normally, she's Sharon. Aww, Mr. Wellman has a nickname for her.)

"Shari!"

"Yes?"

"Come downstairs!"

("Git into that kitchen and make me supper!")

"Okay."

Mom walked downstairs.

"I brought home a list of baby names."

"Oh, good! I like Jeremy," said Mom.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"God will uplift."

"Huh?"

"God will uplift."

I shrugged. "What does my name mean?"

(SNORE! Obviously, I'd been looking at my Names, Names, Names book the day I wrote this.)

"The moon."

"The moon?!"

"Yes. I like Abigail," said Dad.

"Ew," said Mom.

"What about Candace?" I asked. I love the name Candace. Candace Reneé Wellman. Candy Reneé sounds better.

(If you say so, Cyndi.)

"Candace. Nice name," said Dad.

"I like Sara without an 'h'," said Mom.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"The princess."

I didn't want a sister going around acting like a princess.

(So that's how Sara Crewe got her name! But, relax, "Moon", most people aren't living embodiments of their names. For example, I don't go around acting like a palm tree.)

"I like Emily," said Dad.

"Emily," repeated Mom.

"So," said Dad. "If it's a girl, it will be Candace, Sara, or Emily."

"I like Brian or Dave Jr.," said Mom.

"So if it's a boy," said Dad. "We'll name it Jeremy, Brian, or Dave Jr."

"So," I said, "it will be Jeremy, Candace, Brian, Sara, Dave, or Emily."

(That's what he just said!)

"Right," said Mom.

"Oooh!"

***

One day, I woke up and put on a pair of black stretch pants, a yellow T-shirt, yellow push-downs, and black high-tops. Then I put a black bow in my hair.

(Cyndi sounds like a bee.)

Ring!

"Hello ... Racquelle! Hi! Where are you? ... Home! You're back? ... Oh, good! I'm coming over! Bye!"

I ran to Racquelle's house.

"Hi!" said Racquelle.

"Hi!" I said.

"How's Blackey?"

"Believe it or not, he's better!"

"Oh, that's great!"

"I know!"

"How's Carrie?"

"Dunno. We're in a fight."

"Oh, that's right!"

(Isn't Cyndi going to ask Racquelle how she is? Doesn't she care about her bicep?)

Ring!

"Hello ... This is she ... Hi, Carrie! ... Sure! ... Bye!"

(I guess Racquelle is too busy talking on the phone...)

"Cyndi, come with me!"

"Where?"

"Nowhere!"

We walked to Carrie's.

"Hey! No fair!"

"Please, Cyndi."

"Okay."

We walked inside.

"Racquelle? Is that you?"

"Yeah!"

Carrie ran downstairs. "RACQUELLE!"

"What?"

"I didn't tell you to bring her along!"

"Sorry, Carrie."

(Er, who said that? Racquelle or Cyndi?)

Carrie groaned. It was obvious she didn't want to apologize. But reluctantly, she did. "Sorry, Cyndi."

"I forgive you."

"Come on up!" We ran upstairs.

"Carrie, how much are you?" asked Racquelle.

"Please don't ask! Anyway, I'm sixty-four."

"Sixty-four!!!" Racquelle and I said in unison.

"Yes!"

"Um, let's not fight," I said.

"Yeah," they agreed.

(So, in case you're keeping track, Carrie is now down 12 lbs!!! Will she waste away before our very eyes??? It's actually more than that -- in Carrie and the Search for a Friend, Carrie reveals that she downplayed the weight loss from her starvation. Why, I don't know... but she's probably really about 52 lbs now!!!! On that dramatic note, this chapter comes to a close, but I'll leave you with one more...)

Chapter Nine

One day, I woke up and put on a pair of white stretch pants, a baggy white T-shirt, a white bow, white socks, and white flats. Then I ran outside. Stacie was there.

I forgot all about her!

"You!" said Stacie.

I made a face.

(It's a wonder Stacie didn't take to her.)

"Cyndi Wellman, dressed in white! Had a little ball tonight! No one came but Pill Bug Shame, and he danced with her in the light!"

(Now, I'm with Cyndi here ... what in the world? Just, WHAT?)

"What?"

"Ne-ever mi-ind!"

"You're a weirdo!"

"Hmmm!" Stacie ran inside.

I laughed. Stacia Barnes sure was strange!

***

Ring!

"Hello ... Lisa! Oh, you're better ... But you're still home! ... Blackey's better! And Carrie's losing weight, but she's okay ... I know ... Bye!"

Lisa was back! I ran to her house. She didn't tell me to, but ...

(Stalker.)

I rang the bell. Mrs. McOrrill answered. "Oh, hi, Cyndi!"

"Hi!"

"Come on in."

"Okay." I walked in. Then I ran upstairs. Lisa was in a wheelchair.

"Oh, hi, Cyndi!"

"Hi!"

"Nice outfit."

(Ha; Lisa's totally being sarcastic here.)

I giggled. "What'cha doing?"

"Reading."

"In your wheelchair?"

"Of course."

"You could read in bed."

(What, Cyndi's telling her friends where to read now? Nothing in this story has rhyme or reason...)

"I know, but Mom said not to."

"Oh."

"What'da you wanna do?"

"Beats me."

"Let's read."

"Nah. I love reading, but I came over to, well ... do something. I can read anyday."

(So go somewhere else and let Lisa finish her book that she was in the middle of before you barged in. Jeez, Cyndi!)

"Then what can we do?"

"We can invite Racquelle and Carrie over, and we can talk."

"Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah ... Carrie's stupid aunt."

"Well, we'll invite Racquelle over!"

"Yeah!"

Soon, Racquelle was in Lisa's bedroom, with Lisa and I. "What do you wanna talk about?" asked Racquelle boredly.

"Don't know," I said.

(Boy, did these girls need their little singing group...)

"How 'bout Kathy and Carrie?" asked Lisa.

"Well, okay," said Racquelle.

"Yeah," I said. "How's Kathy?" I asked Racquelle.

"Well, I don't know why, but for two hours, she was in a coma. Then she got out, and they did something and bandaged up her head. She should've been out two days after she came, but her head is really bad. I don't know when she'll be back."

"How's Carrie?" asked Lisa.

"Well, her aunt makes her wear babyish clothes and study three hours and watch T.V. one hour. (The horror!) And she only feeds her every two days."

"Oooh," said Racquelle.

"I wish for the good old days back," said Lisa.

"Yeah, me, too," I said.

"Well," said Racquelle.

"Well," I said.

"Well," said Lisa.

"Well, what?" we asked in unison. Then we laughed.

(Even their gossip is horrendously dull.)

"Well, I guess I'd better go," I said.

"Me, too," said Racquelle.

"Bye," all three of us said in unison.

I ran downstairs, feeling good and bad. I had Racquelle. And Lisa. Carrie, too. But I was worried about Kathy. And Stacia Ann Barnes.

***

I put on a pair of baggy bleached jeans, a T-shirt that said You Are Looking At Perfection (there's a blatant rip-off if I ever saw one! hi, BSC!), and a bleached jean-vest (with "baggy bleached jeans"? Beyond hideous!). Then I put on some white socks and some blue Keds. I was going to Lisa's. Racquelle had just called and said that Kathy was home. So Kathy, Racquelle, and I were going to Lisa's.

I decided to call Carrie. 274-9820.

"Hi! It's Cyndi! ... Hi, Carrie ... Well, is your aunt home? ... Oh, that's too bad! Lisa, Racquelle, and Kathy are all back. We're going to Lisa's ... Sorry ... Okay ... Bye."

Well, Carrie wasn't coming. I ran to Lisa's.

"Hi, Cyndi!" said Lisa.

"Hi, Lisa! Hi, Racquelle! Hi, Kathy!" Racquelle and Kathy waved.

"Can't you guys talk?", I joked.

"They can," explained Lisa, "but Mary, Cheri, and Donald were telling them that they talked too much. And they went cuckoo and believed them!"

"You really did?" I asked. They nodded.

I rolled my eyes at Lisa, who giggled. "So what do you want to talk about, Lisa?"

"Beats me."

"Do you have any ideas, Kathy or Racquelle?" They shook their heads.

"Gosh," I said. "When our baby comes, if she tells me I have... "

"The baby?!" screeched Lisa. Kathy's and Racquelle's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Oh, I think I forgot to tell you. My mom's having a baby."

"Oh, Cyndi," said Lisa. Kathy and Racquelle smiled. "What will it's name be?"

I sighed. "Jeremy, Candace, Brian, Sara, Dave, or Emily."

"Nice names."

(You're probably asleep by now, anyway, but "sadly", I lost two pages of this masterpiece here. Fortunately, it picks up in a much more entertaining place -- Cyndi and Stacie are at war!)

-- two pages later --

... (do) something about Stacie. So far, although I didn't tell you, she had made me pay for five boxes of chocolates (I ate them, too), thrown dirt in my face, beat me up from behind (I'm not a weakling, it just sort of surprised me), and thrown a pie in my face. Plus, she acts like such a snob. Her nose is always in the air. And she always goes "Hmmm!" like an idiot.

(I love the cartoon violence -- Cyndi got suckerpunched! And she's possibly bulimic, if her five boxes of chocolates are any indication.)

I know! I'll do the exact same things to her.

(How very creative. Talk in the right tense.)

I dialed Markey's Chocolates' number. 535-2101.

"Hello, Markey's Chocolates. May I help you?"

"I'd like to order five boxes of chocolate drops."

"Name, please?"

"Cynthia Wellman." (Uh-oh.)

"Address?"

I gave him Stacie's address.

"Okay, I'll get them over there as soon as possible."

"Okay, thanks. Bye."

"Bye."

("Chocolate drops?" What kind of name is Markey'a Chocolates?)

I hung up the phone, and started to laugh. Stacie Barnes, watch out!

***

That's all for now, but their feud continues in the next chapter! Coming up ... Cyndi gets tied to a tree!!! Will she survive?

Me and Snobby Stacie, Part Two

2009-03-10T23:12:00.000-07:00

I was out of town for most of February (hence the lack of updates) but here, finally, are more adventures with Cyndi and Stacie!

Chapter Four

Blackey at the vet day. Plus, I was going to dog Stacie.

(Clever use of 80's slang there, Cyndi, considering Stacie's hatred of dogs ... actually, did anyone else ever go around saying "I dogged you!" in the late 80's, or was that just my weird siblings and I?)

I put on a pair of black spandex that ended just below my knees, a hot-pink turtleneck with black polka-dots on it, hot-pink push-down socks, hot-pink high-tops, and a black bow. Ha ha, Stacie.

(I'm 'ha-ha'ing, too, at the hideousness of that outfit.)

I found a note on the breakfast table:
Dear Cyndi, I went to the vet already. Please fix breakfast. Maybe lunch. I'm going to run some errands afterwards.
Love, Mom.
P.S. Blackey threw up again.

(Was that P.S. really necessary?)

I sighed. Then I fixed a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. I ate it and decided to go over to Kathy's.

I dialed her number. 273-2983. "Hello ... This is Cyndi. Is Kathy there? ... Well, can I come over? ... Thank you. Bye."

I ran over to Kathy's.

"Hi, Cyndi!"

"Hi, Kathy!"

We ran up to her fourth-floor bedroom.

"Why didn't you call me yesterday?" I told her about Blackey. "Oh, that's too bad!"

We watched two 2-hour movies. "Oh, no!" I said.

"What?"

"I've gotta go!" I ran home.

"Where were you?" Mom asked.

"A-at Kathy's."

(Don't ask me why Cyndi is stammering ... unless Mrs. Wellman is another Josephine?)

"How come it took you so long?"

"We watched two movies."

"Next time, be here!"

"Wh-where's Blackey?"

Mom sighed. "Cyndi ... Blackey's at ... he's still at the vet."

"What? Still at the vet? I don't understand."

"Well ... the vet thinks he's been fed poisoned meat."

(I love how the vet just knows it was meat, and doesn't suggest that Blackey got into some antifreeze or whatever.)

"Poisoned meat?! But who would do that?!"

"I don't have the slightest idea."

"It had to be someone awful ... I know! Stacie Barnes! Do you think when she mumbled that, she was talking about the meat?"

('that' = "Ihoamemaimick!", which Stacie muttered in the last chapter, and which translates to "I hope that meat made him sick!" -- since of course Cyndi is right about Stacie.)

"Oh, Mom! What if Blackey dies?"

"He won't, baby."

"I'm going over to Stacie's right now!"

I ran next door. Mrs. Barnes answered.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I need Stacie," I said through clenched teeth.

"Stacie, honey. A girl!"

(love how she just dismisses Cyndi, who she's met at least three times by this point, as "a girl"...)

"Oh, it's you!" said Stacie, when we were in her room.

"Who'd you expect?", I asked.

"Someone better."

I stared at her.

"So I see you're in style today," she said sarcastically.

"More than you."

"No way!"

Stacie was wearing a black velvet mini-dress with a pink sash around it, black tights, black flats, and a big pink bow.

"Well..." I said.

(Cyndi must agree that Stacie's outfit is marginally better than her own little polka-dot spandex fest ... although, personally, I think the "big pink bow" is overdoing it a little, Stace.)

"See, I am!"

I just shrugged. "I came to ask you something," I said.

"What?"

"Did you just happen to be ... well, to feed my dog any kind of ... meat?"

"Yes."

"Poisoned meat?"

Stacie grinned. "No."

"Oh, sure!"

Stacie burst out laughing. "Okay, okay, I did!"

(And I thought Josephine was over-the-top...)

"Stacia Barnes! Why? Blackey could die! Don't you care?! Don't you care at all?!!"

Stacie grinned. "Nope."

"Oh, you are so heartless! I hate you, Stacie Barnes! I hate you!"

(I'm sure the little sociopath is just devastated, Cyndi. And how do you know that her name is 'Stacia'?)

Chapter Five

I was so angry. Angry at Stacie for being so heartless. Angry at Blackey for taking the meat. Angry at Mom and Dad for not noticing me or Blackey (huh?). Angry at everyone!!!!!

I pushed my teddy bear off my bed.

(That part was ripped off from a scene in The Parent Trap 2, when Mary was pouting and pushed her teddy off her bed -- I'm surprised I didn't make Cyndi mutter, "What are you looking at?" before she pushed hers.)

"Cyndi! Dinner!"

I ran downstairs.

"What is it?"

"Fish and macaroni'n'cheese."

"Ihafish."

"You hay fish?" joked Dad.

"That's not funny. And I said hate! Just like I hate Stacia Barnes!"

"Cyndi, yesterday you invited her over. Did that little argument over the meat really do that to you?"

(Okay, an attempt to kill their daughter's dog equals "a little argument"? Maybe Cyndi has a right to be angry at her parents!)

"You know what? I always hated her! Do you know what she said? She said she didn't care if Blackey died! How can anyone say that?"

Mom sighed and looked at Dad. He just shrugged.

"Cyndi," said Mom.

I squinted. (do you need glasses, Cyndi?) "Yeah?"

"We have some very important news to tell you."

"I knew it! Blackey's dead! Because of Stacie Barnes!"

"Cyn-"

"The little murderer! I wish I could feed her poisoned meat!"

"Cyndi, Blackey's not dead!"

"He's not?"

"No! We're moving!"

"Again? You mean I have to move away from Racquelle and Kathy and Lisa and Carrie! Oh, this day is the absolute worst ever!!!"

(Oh, look on the bright side -- at least you and Blackey wll be safe from the family of freaks next door!)

"Cyndi, we live on 6th and L, right?"

"Duh!"

"We're only moving to 12th and K!"

"Then why are we moving?!!" I exploded.

"Because! And I am also going to have a baby ... due March 10th!"

"What?!! A baby?!! You mean, I have to live with a thing that goes 'boo-hoo' and slobbers and leaves food all over the place!" I burst into tears. "Oh, this day is awful! Just awful!"

I threw down my plate (and broke it), stood up, slammed my chair into the fridge, ran off, and started throwing down chairs and banging on things. "It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!" I ran into my bedroom. (Wow, someone has spoiled-only-child syndrome! Isn't she a little old for it?)

"Cynthia Marie Wellman, you come out here this instant! I'm going to count! One ... two ... three ... "

I ran outside. "Wha-a-at?!"

"You pick up all of these chairs. Ri-i-ight now!"

I groaned and started picking up the chairs. When I was done, I walked over to Dad and Mom. "Do you want me anymore?"

"Yes, we do, young lady!" said Dad.

"Where do I go?"

"The couch! And march!"

I marched to the couch, giggling.

"CYNDI!!!"

"Okay, sorry."

My parents walked to the couch. "Here is your list of punishments."

"Hey, when did you have time to... "

"Never mind!"

I looked at the list.

Bed Early - 7:30 - 2 wks.
No dessert - 4 wks.
Grounded - 1 wk.
No T.V. - 3 wks.
No Carrie - 1 wk.
No Lisa - 1 wk.
No Kathy - 1 wk.
No Racquelle - 1 wk.
Say sorry to Stacie!

(Okay ... er, when did they have time to make a list of punishments? When Cyndi was throwing chairs down, did Mrs. Wellman rush to grab the nearest pad and pen? Why not just say "no friends" instead of listing them by name? And, really, WHY does Cyndi have to apologize to Stacie for Stacie poisoning her dog?)

"Hey, why all this?!!"

"Because of your mouth and actions!" said Dad.

"I've never seen a child act that way," said Mom.

"Never!" agreed Dad.

I hung my head. "I'm real sorry. Except all of this is so hard on me. I'll take the punishments."

"Cyndi," said Mom. She grabbed my list and crossed out most of the punishments. "How's this?"

No dessert - 1 wk.
Grounded - 1 wk.

(Whatever on Mrs. Wellman crossing out most of the punishments. I wonder why she kept 'no dessert' on there? Maybe she's too lazy to bake. Or maybe she secretly thinks Cyndi needs to lose some of her whopping 77 pounds.)

"Well... "

"Is it okay?"

I grinned. "Yes!"

***

I was in bed, wide awake. Gosh, I thought. I should make a list of good things and bad things. Today was an awful day! (Well, mostly.)

I made the list. (I made it gladly, too.)

Bad: Blackey, Stacie, no dessert, grounded, dinner today, Stacie in style.
Good: Shorter list of punishments.

Ha, ha!

(That's the end of the chapter. How's that for a cliffhanger?)

Chapter Six

The next morning, I woke up and put on a pair of tight, tight bleached blue jeans, a white cotton long-sleeved turtleneck, and a white sweater with no sleeves. I put on my white push-downs and my white Keds. (Lovely ... especially the jeans.)

Then I asked my mom if I could go to Carrie's. It was the tenth day of winter break, so probably.
(Really? If it was the ninth day of winter break, would you not be allowed?)

"Honey, you're grounded."

"Mom, can you please make that when school starts!"

"Well ... okay."

"Thank you!" I ran outside. Then I ran to Stacie's.

Stacie answered. "How come you're here everyday?"

(Because she's a stalker?)

"Some greeting", I said. "I just wanted to see what you're wearing."

Stacie was wearing a long, knee-length white silk dress with a green bow around it, a matching green bow in her hair, green heels, and white tights. (That sounds very 11-year-old. I'm sure I got it from some Barbie doll.)

"Ha! Beat ya this time!" I said.

"Hmmm!" Stacie slammed the door.

"How rude!"

I ran to Carrie's, laughing all the way.

***
"Hi, Carrie! How're ya doing?!"

"Not so good. Look." Carrie handed me a list.

Rules:
If you drop your food, leave the table.
Wear DECENT clothing!!!
Do not watch T.V. for more than one hour!!
Study three hours per DAY!!!

"What happened to your parents?!"

Carrie sighed. "Well, last time you saw me, that day I found out Mom and Dad were killed in a car accident. The guardian is supposed to be my strict aunt Josephine. She's here already!"

"Oh, Carrie!"

You should have seen what Carrie was wearing. It was a blue sailor dress, with an anchor and whistle. How babyish!

(Naturally, Carrie's 'babyish' outfit is Cyndi's first concern. What about an, I don't know, "I am so sorry about your parents"?)

Carrie must be a mind-reader. "This is so babyish!"

"I know!"
(Cyndi, ever the sensitive one...)

"CARRIE!" (uh oh!)

"Wha-what?"

"Lunch!"

"O-okay, Aunt Jo-Josephine!"

"Why are you stuttering?" I asked.

"I'm not supposed to have anyone over! Hide!"

I hid under Carrie's bed.

Three minutes later, Carrie was back. "Why so soon?"

"Nothing." She paused. Then, "Cyndi?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I trust you to keep a secret?"

"Um, yeah!"

"Okay. My aunt ... well, every day, she drops my food on the floor. Last time I ate was the day she came, day before yesterday! And that was breakfast!" (GASP!)

"Oh, oh no!"

Carrie sighed.

"Oh, Carrie! Can I please tell Kathy, Lisa, and Racquelle?"

"Okay."

"I'm leaving! Bye!"

"Bye!"

I ran to Kathy's. "Can I talk to Kathy?"

"I'm sorry. Kathy's in the hospital with a bad concussion. You see, Kathy, Lisa, and Racquelle, and Carrie Packer's parents were in a bad car accident. Racquelle damaged her bicep badly. And Lisa broke her leg badly. It was broken in three places, plus she got a crushed ankle and got a bad tissue damage. Poor Carrie's parents both died."

(WOW! What a coincidence that they were all together in one car! And Carrie must have been so terrified about Josephine that she conveniently left out their friends' involvement and their random injuries ... a damaged bicep?! I think I watched too much wrestling back then.)

"Oh, gosh!"

"I know. I'm so sorry."

"That's okay. Thanks for telling me. Bye."

"Bye."

(Just who is that telling all this to Cyndi? Kathy's mom? Whoever it is -- considering they're at Kathy's house, you'd think Cyndi would be the one offering condolences for poor Kathy and her head trauma.)

I slowly walked home.

***

I was bored. There was nothing to do. Blackey wasn't even here. (we know...)

It seemed like everyone had problems. I was bored. Dad and Mom had moving problems. Carrie was starving. Kathy, Racquelle, and Lisa were hurt. Blackey was dying (maybe). Their parents were lonely (my friends's). It seems that Stacia Ann Barnes was the only happy one!

(Poor Cyndi is bored ... cry me a river. How does she know Stacie's middle name?)

***********************************************************************************
Coming up next: Cyndi and Carrie have a fight, Cyndi calls radio stations, plus I blatantly rip off the BSC a few more times...

Me and Snobby Stacie

2009-02-05T12:41:00.000-08:00

I'm reaching way back into the vault for this one!

Though I don't remember how or why I decided to write about a girl named Cyndi Wellman, for whatever reason I decided that I liked Cyndi and her friends enough to build my very first "series" around them. But they didn't become Lisa and the Angels right away; that didn't happen until An Old House (book 3 of the series, and my personal rip-off of BSC #9, The Ghost at Dawn's House). These first two books don't even have any singing in them!

What they do have are lots of dramatic fights, lots and lots of bad 80's outfits, and ... not much plot. It was tempting to post My Own Pet first, since it's the first book in the series and all. But Me and Snobby Stacie just has so many classically bad moments that I'm giving you the "honor" of reading it first instead!

So here you go. Enjoy! By the way, I wasn't quite ten when I wrote this (I handwrote it in my blank book with the beautiful pink cover that had Tammy's Book sewn across it in pink and blue letters).

Chapter One

I am Cyndi Wellman. I'm eleven years old. I have long, long hair. It goes down to my knees. I have dark blue eyes. I am four feet seven inches tall and weigh seventy-seven pounds.

(Well, thanks for getting the introduction out of the way right off the bat, Cyndi. Now we can all picture her as we read along. I wonder how many of her seventy-seven pounds is that hair ... knee-length hair? How creepy.)

To start the story, I was sitting on the couch, doing nothing. My one-year-old Yorkie, Blackey, was lying down beside me.

Ring! I ignored the phone. Ring!

"Cyndi!"

"Okay, Mom." I stood up.

Ring!

"Cynthia Wellman!"

(Note, in later stories, I used too many adjectives for the word "said." In these earlier stories, I barely used "said" -- or anything that means said -- at all.)

I sighed. "Hello ... Carrie! ... Hi! ... Sure! ... Oh, good! ... Terrific! ... Bye!"

"Mom, Mom!"

"What?"

"Can I go to Carrie's?" Carrie was my friend.

"Sure!"

"Thanks!"

I grabbed my jean-jacket and ran out the door. When I reached Carrie's house, I ran up the stairs.

"Hi, Cyndi!"

"Hi, Lisa! Hi, Kathy! Hi, Racquelle! Hi, Car!" (Car?) I sat down. Then I raised my eyebrows. You see, I always thought that Carrie and I were the ones who dressed in trendy clothes.

First, before I tell you anything, I guess I should describe my friends. (Please don't.)

1.)Carrie Packer. She is eleven. She has curly blonde hair and brown eyes. She is small and pretty. She is an only child with a collie named Tabatha. She is fun to be with. (A tear rolls down my cheek.) She goes to Albany Middle School. She's in sixth grade.

2.)Kathy Bell. She is also eleven. She has long golden hair and blue eyes. She's pretty. She's tall and skinny. She is rich. She has a little sister named Mary. She doesn't have any pets. (Yes, she does, she has a horse! Well, apparently not in this book; and I just now noticed that continuity error, twenty years after writing this...) She goes to Albany, New York Private Academy. She's in sixth grade.

3.)Lisa McOrrill. She has long brown hair and brown eyes. She is also rich. She is eleven. She has a cat, Brownie. She is an only child. She goes to Albany Middle School. She's in sixth grade.

(I love all of Kathy's and Lisa's personality traits. Actually, neither of them really had a personality until they became pop stars. Same with Racquelle. Speaking of...)

4.)Racquelle Arlington. She is thirteen. (Why is she gratuitously two years older than the others?) She has shoulder-length pale blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She is rich. She has a brother named Donald and a sister named Cheri. She goes to Albany, New York Private Academy. She is in eighth grade.

There.

Well, now I'm way off the subject, so let's get back to what we were wearing. (Oh, goody!)

Carrie was wearing a light blue mini-skirt, a baggy white sweater, white nylons, light blue push-down socks, and white high-top sneakers.

(Yawn. That sounds like something Mary Anne Spier would wear after her father "loosened up a little.")

I had on some tight blue jeans with zippers up the sides of the legs, black high-tops, and a baggy black sweater that said International News in white letters across the front.

(Ah, zipper-legged jeans and an International News "sweater" -- how very 1989!)

Racquelle had on some really baggy white pants and a baggy black T-shirt that said Awesome on it. There were white suspenders over the shirt. She had on white Converse shoes and white socks. She had dark red stuff on her lips, magenta stuff on her cheeks, and blue stuff on her eyelids. On her ears were dozens of white plastic zippers.

(Clearly, at this point, Racquelle is the "Claudia" of the group, judging from this atrocious-sounding outfit ... and even the ripped-off-from-Kristy's Great Idea use of the word "stuff" for makeup. Dozens of dangly white zippers?!?!)

Kathy had on a pair of blue spandex that ended just below her knees. She had on a baggy pink sweater, pink push-down socks, and dark pink high-tops. She was wearing no makeup, but her hair was permed and put into a ponytail. On her ears were large blue hoops.

(What, pink socks and shoes? Blue high-tops would have made the outfit even more perfectly matchy-matchy.)

Lisa had on a very short bleached jean skirt, a baggy white T-shirt, denim high-tops, white push-down socks, and little blue bows for earrings.

(Her outfit is too boring to comment on, though I do wonder about that skirt...)

"Gosh," I said. "What happened?"

"We changed!" screeched Kathy.

"I can see that," I said.

"Okay," said Carrie. "We... "

(Shut up, Carrie ... why are you answering 'we'? You were already supposed to be one of the "trendy" ones.)

Ring! Carrie picked up the phone in her bedroom. "Hello ... this is she ... is this Mrs. Wellman? ... why does she have to come home so early? ... oh, neighbors ... bye."

"Cyndi, you have to go. Neighbors."

"Oh." I sighed and left. (Darn, now Cyndi will never find out why her friends decided to become fashionistas...)

Chapter Two

When I got home, the first thing Mom said was, "Cyndi, go change."

"Okay."

I changed into a long black dress with almost no sleeves. (So does it have cap sleeves or what?) Then I put a black lace bow in my hair. I put on some black flats. Then I ran downstairs.

"Mom, you look great!" She had on a long yellow gown. (!) Her blonde hair hung in loose waves around her face. She had on purple eyeshadow, dark red blush, and light red lipstick. She was thirty-five years old, but she looked about twenty!

(Personally, I think she sounds a little overdone. Also, I'm pretty sure that long yellow gown was one of my Barbie doll dresses, and that Stacie and Mrs. Wellman were "played" by the same doll. Yes, I still acted these stories out with dolls when I was 9-10.)

Ding-dong!

"I'll get it!" I ran downstairs to the door. "Hi, Dad!"

"Hi!"

Ding-dong!

"I'll get it, again!" I opened the door while Dad quickly went upstairs to change. (Just what was he wearing before?) Outside, there was a big line of people. A man with a little girl walked inside. Then, a tall girl about my age walked inside. Next were two little redheads that looked like twins. After that were two little blonde-haired girls that also looked like twins. After that was a tall woman. Finally, a tall tall girl carrying a girl that looked like the youngest in the family.

(An eight-kid family with all girls ... in those days, that would have been my dream family!)

"Come on in!" I said cheerfully.

"Hmmm!" said the girl about my age.

"My mom and dad will be down... "

"Okay, okay," said the girl. (Oh, no, you can already tell Stacie is snobby and evil...) They all sat down.

"Hello!" I heard Mom say. She ran down the stairs, followed by Dad, who smiled.

"Your house smells," said the woman, "like dogs. I hate dogs." (Oh, no, the snobbiness runs in the family!)

"We do have a dog," I said. "Blackey. He's my dog!"

"Oh, that was your dog."

(Don't ask me who was supposed to have said that. I think it was Stacie; you'll see why I think so soon.)

"Let's introduce ourselves," said Mom. "I am Sharon Wellman. This is Dave, my husband, and Cyndi, my eleven-year-old daughter." (You didn't tell them your names before you invited them over?)

"I am Charles Barnes," said the man.

"I'm Teresa Barnes!" (the mean mom, since it's again oh-so-clear who's doing the speaking...)

"I'm Shelley," said the girl the man was holding. "I'm three." She nodded her blonde, curly head. "It's true. Pew. Your house smells like dog, ooh!" She laughed and laughed.

"I am Stacie. I am eleven. Dogs are wicked creatures, you know. I'd get rid of yours." (I knew Stacie was the worst.)

"No!"

"I'm Angela," said the redhead. "I am five, and I hate dogs!" (But I was thinking about Stacie...)

"I'm Andrea, her twin. I also hate dogs. Twins hate the same things."

"I'm Kristina," said a blonde, piggy-tailed girl. (Please tell me I didn't actually write piggy-tailed...) "I'm four. Guess what I hate?"

"Dogs?"

"Right!"

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm Kristin, her twin sister."

"And do you hate dogs?"

"Yup."

I shook my head.

"I am Marie. I am sixteen. Dogs are dumb."

"I'm Sheena. I am two. (And remarkably well-spoken for your age.) Where is your dog?"

"Outside."

"I wanna kick 'im." (! ... A little serial-killer-in-the-making?)

"No!"

"Yes! Wahhh!"

"Let ... my ... daughter ... kick ... that ... dog!"

(Er, for the record, I had a lot of dogs growing up -- including a poodle named Stacy, who was about a year old when I wrote this -- and I never kicked any of them. This family's obsessive hatred of dogs is just meant to illustrate how SNOBBY they all are! Especially Stacie!)

"He's my dog!"

"Cyndi, Mr. Barnes is our neighbor. Don't shout at him."

"But I don't want anybody kicking Blackey!"

"Well, don't shout."

"I'm going to find doggy." Sheena waddled off.

"We're leaving!" said Stacie. They marched off.

"But... " It was too late. They slammed the door. "How rude!"

"Those certainly weren't the friendliest people I've ever met," said Mom.

"No way!" said Dad.

(The chapter ends abruptly here, but I hope Cyndi got up to go save poor Blackey from little Sheena-the-freak's foot. Her parents surely aren't going to do it; it might make a bad impression on the neighbors!)

Chapter Three

The next day, I decided to try and make friends with Stacie. I put on a long denim skirt and a plaid blouse. Then I put on brown cowgirl boots. I curled my hair and put on two plaid barrettes. I looked country, but who cared. (Aw, Cyndi wears what she wants, no matter how hideous!)

"Mom, can I go outside?"

"Yes."

I ran out the door. Then I rang their bell. Sheena answered.

"Mommy! Mommy, it's doggy-girl."

Mrs. Barnes walked to the door, wearing an elegant white silk dress. (?!) "What do you want?" she asked.

"Could I please speak to your daughter, Stacie?"

"Well ... okay."

Stacie appeared out of nowhere, her nose high up in the air. "I heard, I heard."

Stacie walked outside. She slammed the door and jumped onto her railing. "What an ugly outfit. Dress more like me."

"Nice advice."

Stacie was wearing a white turtleneck under a tangerine-colored jumper. She had a wide dark-orange belt around her waist. She was wearing white nylons and peach heels. She had a peach bow in her hair, which was newly cut and curled.

(How do you know her hair is "newly cut and curled", Cyndi? You just met her yesterday. I think I might have stolen Stacie's outfit from Brooke Dennis in Sweet Valley Twins #6, The New Girl.)

"Shut up!"

"No!"

"Anyway, you don't dress in style at all."

"Wanna bet?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go look at my clothes," I said.

"Fine, let's." We walked next door to my house.

"Mom," I said, my voice as sweet as a cherry. (Why?) "I invited our neighbor over."

"Hmmm!" Stacie said. Her nose was so high up in the air, you could hardly see her eyes.

"Well, let's go into my room."

"Cyndi, dear, where's Blackey?"

"Lying down."

"Ihoamemaimick!" said Stacie. (translation: "I hope that meat made him sick!" Stacie ... did something very, very bad to Blackey.)

"What?"

"Never mind!"

We walked into my room, where we found Blackey on the bed.

"Hi, Blackey!" I said. Blackey whined.

"Ew! Ew! Oh, ew!"

"He's not germy," I said. Then I walked to my bed. I pat the bed with both my hands. "Come 'ere, Black!" He slowly walked over to me and threw up all over my skirt. "Oh, gross," I said, petting Blackey.

Stacie screamed and ran out my door. I heard Mom try and slow down Stacie, then walk into my room. "Cyndi, what happened?"

I sighed. "Blackey threw up." Then my eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Oh, Mom, I've been so worried about him lately! He hardly ever walks or runs around. He's always lying down. Plus, he's had plenty of, you know ... accidents! (Just like poor Louie Thomas...) And now this!"

"Cyndi, it'll be okay," Mom said gently. "I hope."

My tears spilled over. "Oh, Mom!"

Mom hugged me. "I'll take him to the vet tomorrow. Now, go change."

"Okay."

(I'm starting to lose count of how many times people change or are told to "go change" in this book, but in this case, it was warranted, since Cyndi is just casually sitting there with dog throw-up all over her long, denim skirt.)

********************************************************************************
Coming up: What did Stacie do to Blackey? We'll find out ... plus, Cyndi throws a temper tantrum, and the introduction to mean aunt Josephine!

Grandma's Story (plus an "interview" with Charles Ingalls!)

2009-02-01T02:59:00.000-08:00

My dad recently found this short story/school assignment in his garage somewhere and passed it on to me. I have absolutely no memory of writing it. I would say that makes it the best kind of story (a hidden treasure!) but unfortunately this one doesn't quite live up to Lisa and the Angels or Fruitville. Grandma's "story" is kind of lame. Still, it was fun to re-read something I'd completely forgotten about!

I so wish I had access to a scanner, because the "artwork" is one of this story's more entertaining qualities. One of these days, I'll have to visit my old college campus and use their scanner to post all my illustrations (or just take pictures of them or something, since I recently joined the millenium and got a digital camera). Until then, you'll just have to imagine the cover...

First, picture two pieces of "vanilla" colored cardstock stapled together. Now focus on the front cover, and imagine the words Grandma's Story written in large, "girlish", faux-calligrary script (with alternating red-and-blue letters!). Underneath those words, you'll see a red line, and underneath that, a smiling pioneer family stands atop another red line. The family consists of a man, woman, three girls, and two small boys.

For the "dad", you can imagine a smiley-face for his head (with three dots for eyes and nose, and a crooked smile) with a patch of black "hair" on top; he also has a very thick neck, huge (mishapen) hands, and L-O-N-G legs. He's wearing brown trousers, a red-and-black plaid shirt, tall black boots, and a cowboy hat. Next to him, the mother is posed in a stunning, ankle-length orange dress, black boots, and a white apron covered with a hot-pink-and-orange ... floral? (or is it butterfly?) print. She also has three dots for her eyes and nose; however, her "mouth" is set in a straight line. Her curly black hair falls to to the top of her (puffed) sleeves, and for some reason her feet aren't touching the ground (she's floating?).

As for the kids -- first, the eldest daughter (who's supposed to be 14, but only reaches her mother's waist) is wearing a simple, ankle-length yellow gown and black boots. She has waist-length black braids, a big black dot for a nose, a big smile, and no arms. Next to her, the second daughter is also missing her right arm and foot, but she's still smiling widely; maybe because her nose isn't as big as her sister's, or perhaps because she's fortunate enough to still have a (deformed) left hand. She's wearing an ankle-length green plaid dress and plaid boots; her waist-length brown hair is also fixed in braids.

Then we have the third sister. Her facial features are kind of squished together, but it doesn't like she's smiling. Also it's hard to tell what's going on with her hair -- whether it's black or brown or fixed in braids or if she even has hair. But she's lucky enough to still have both of her arms (albeit deformed ones) as well as a lovely outfit of a billowy, ankle-length pink plaid dress and those trusty black boots.

Finally, we have the two boys, who look like miniature versions of their father, except for their outfits. The older boy is wearing black trousers, black boots, a black sleeveless vest, and a brown cowboy hat. The younger boy is wearing black trousers, brown boots, a brown sleeveless vest, and a black cowboy hat. Both boys are bare-chested.

Well, now that I've described the pioneer family (and I know that would have been much better if you could actually SEE the illustration! Which, by the way, mntill helped me with. There's another classic illustration inside the story), I totally didn't plan for this introduction to be so long, so I'm going to skimp on the rest of the cover. But let's just say that the whole cover is ... something else. Basically, it's obvious that I took either a BSC or Sweet Valley book and copied all that cover print verbatim. So the "spine" of the front cover includes a faux barcode and a price ($2.95 in the US, $3.50 in Canada!). The inside front cover includes a list of my other stories (I'm going to save that for another post) as well as a copyright date -- 1992 -- and fake publisher info. In case you wondered, this classic you're about to read is recommended for ages 8-12!

I really, really must scan the cover someday. But in the meantime, I've already gone on about it long enough ... so on with the story!

As promised, this story includes a very special insert -- an interview with none other than Pa Ingalls himself. It's credited to my third period Language Arts (or "L.A." class) and dated June 10th, 1992. That was the same year I wrote Tammy the Little Mermaid, and as you can see, my version of Pa acts quite a bit like Mr. DiBiaz...

***
Charles Ingalls Interview

(This interview comes to you courtesy of something called "The T.C. Tribune." Apparently not only do they possess the amazing ability to travel back and forth in time, they've also passed that trait on to their interview subjects.)

Hello! Today we're going back into the 1800's and interviewing one of the most famous all-time pioneers, Mr. Charles Ingalls!

(Nothing like a nice, cheery introduction to get things off on the right foot.)

T.C. T: Hello, Mr. Ingalls.

Ingalls: (smiling) Hello. I'm flattered that you want to interview me.

T.C. T: Yes, well, let us begin. What is it like being a pioneer?

Ingalls: (frowns a bit) It's very different from pioneer days -- nowadays, that is. (Nice grammar, Pa.) I think I prefer being a pioneer.

T.C. T: Well, why?

Ingalls: (leans forward) We had to survive on our own. We wouldn't waste time interviewing a ... a Revolutionary war hero or something. We worked.

T.C. T: (huffily) Well, so do we.

Ingalls: Not that I see!

(Okay, why are they talking like Pa has traveled to 1992? I thought "we" were going back to the 1800's?)

T.C. T: (cautiously) Can I change the subject?

Ingalls: You better. (Or I'll punch you in the face like I did Almanzo!)

T.C. T: Are you proud of your daughter Laura?

Ingalls: (bellowing angrily) YES! WHY WOULDN'T I BE?! (calms down) Laura is the perfect example of a good pioneer, honest and hardworking.

T.C. T: What about the rest of your family?

Ingalls: Listen, you good-for-nothing! I'm proud of Caroline, Mary, Grace, Carrie, m'son Albert ... all of them! So mind your own business! (storms off)

(What about James and Cassandra? They're about as "real" as your son Albert. By the way, "m'son" was ripped off from the Animal Inn series; fans of those books might remember how the maid was always, "Blah, blah, and m'son Henry." Anyway...)

T.C. T: (scaredly) Stay tuned for next week's chat with George Washington. See ya then!

***
Whatever. Whatever that even was. For some reason, my teacher gave me an A on it.

Now here's the story itself!

***
Grandma's Story

"Grandma, I'm bored," 5-year-old Marcus Zuendel complained. (What's with my old writing and that last name? Is he related to Tami Zuendel from Fruitville?) It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and Marcus, his 4-year-old brother Bryan, and his three sisters, 14-year-old Jennifer, 11-year-old Shawna, and 8-year-old Lisa were spending the weekend over at their grandmother's house in Portland.

"You're bored?" cried Grandma. "Come on! There's a billion things to do over here! You can watch TV, or read, or bake cookies, or play a game."

(Grandma sounds like she's trying to sell them her house.)

"There's nothing on TV -- it's different times than Tacoma," whined Shawna.

"Reading's boring," grumbled Jennifer.

"I can't COOK!" screeched Marcus.

"You don't have Candywand," groaned Bryan.

"And none of our friends are here," added Lisa.

(What brats, the whole lot of them. Also, in case you were wondering, I'm pretty sure that's not 'Candywand' as in 'magic wand', but stupid Bryan pronouncing 'Candyland' with a "cute" speech impediment.)

Grandma sat down on the sofa. "Well, then," she said, looking thoughtful. "Who's in the mood for a story?"

"Me, me, me!" cried Lisa, Marcus, and Bryan, who loved stories.

Shawna shrugged. "Me, I guess."

"Me, too," said Jennifer. "As long as it's not boring."

The boys jumped up on the couch next to Grandma, and the girls sat around it.

"This story," Grandma began, "is about my grandmother, your great-great grandmother. She was Lisa's age when this happened -- about 1860 to 1861. Her name was Anne.

(Hmm, eight years old in 1861, and merely the grandmother of someone young enough to have a 4-year-old grandson in 1992? I guess it's possible, but the women in that family all must have been on the older side when they gave birth. Why I'm bothering to even think about this is beyond me.)

"Anne lived with her ma and pa -- to you, your mom and dad, or mommy and daddy," Grandma continued. (Thanks for clarifying that 'ma and pa' means the same as 'mom and dad.') She also lived with two older sisters, Jenny and Shawna's ages, and two younger brothers, Marcus and Bryan's ages. (How Wakefields of Sweet Valley!) The girls were Grace and Elizabeth, the boys were Matthew and Billy. Anne's family were pioneers. Do you all know what that means?"

"No," said Bryan. "What's a piponeer?"

"Pioneer," Grandma corrected. "Pioneers lived long, long ago. Their life was not easy. Anne's family lived on a farm in Minnesota (why ever did I pick that state?), complete with pigs and farms and cows and chickens."

("Complete with?")

Lisa jumped up and cried, "Cool!"

"It was cool, alright, but it was a lot of work keeping the farm up. Anne's pa had to do the heavy jobs, like plowing. Well, the oxen helped him with that! Anne's ma had to tend a vegetable garden."

"Were there lima beans?" Lisa shuddered, and made a face. (Spare me.)

Grandma smiled. "Yes, I'm sure there was (sic). But corn was the main vegetable for the pioneers. You could make cornmeal, and corn bread. Corn bread was the main bread. It wasn't very tasty, but it was very nutritious." (Watch what you say about cornbread, Grandma!)

"Were there corn dogs?" questioned Marcus.

Grandma shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. Pioneers had to hunt for their meat, just like they had to grow their own crops."

"Hunt for their meat?!" screeched Shawna. "How rude!" (Ugh, it's Stephanie Tanner.)

Grandma chuckled. "It may seem rude now, but that was how pioneers survived. You couldn't go to Stock Market and pick up a frozen ham."

"They had a Stock Market?" Lisa asked, confused.

(Okay, these are officially the dumbest kids ever...)

Grandma laughed again. "No, no, no! They hardly had any stores! Anne's family -- like most pioneer families -- had to walk to the nearest town. Anne's pa did that job, but it was only occasionally. A trip to town meant buying weapons, supplies, seeds for next year's crops, sugar."

"So -- like -- what did the kids do?" asked Jennifer.

"The kids? Well, they had chores, too -- feeding animals, milking cows, collecting eggs, helping their ma keep the house clean. Grace, Elizabeth, Anne, and Matthew went to school -- they were all in the same house, with the same teacher -- that's how it was back then. (Notice how she doesn't even bother to use the words 'one-room schoolhouse', which would likely confuse her idiotic grandchildren.) Anne's teacher was Miss Carter," continued Grandma. "I remember her telling me how much she loved Miss Carter. Miss Carter was only sixteen.

"The kids basically enjoyed school, even though the walk was about three miles. They were used to hardships. Their subjects were reading, grammar, spelling, religion, math, geography, and history."

"Did Anne's family stay in Minnesota all their lives?" Shawna asked.

Grandma shook her head. "No, they didn't. They moved."

"Did they have a van?" Marcus questioned skeptically.

"Nope. They had a covered wagon, just like in Little House. (Imagine that!) Only theirs wasn't called a covered wagon."

"Was it a Radio Flyer wagon?" asked Bryan. (Now imagine me banging my head against my computer table...)

Grandma grinned. "Nuh-uh. It was a covered wagon, but it was called a prairie schooner, which meant it was built for long journeys. Lots of things were tied to the wagon, or stored inside, but since the oxen got weak, items had to be thrown away a lot. Anne's family didn't travel alone. They traveled with lots of other pioneer families. All those families together were called wagon trains."

"People got sick on these long journeys," Grandma continued. "The diseases were deadly and contagious. People of all ages caught them. Billy's best friend Johnny caught smallpox ... and passed it on to Billy. Johnny lived ... but Billy died."

(Gasp!)

"Oh, really?" whispered Lisa. Her cat Fluffball had died. It was awful. (I don't even know what to say to that ridiculousness.)

"Despite Billy's tragic death," said Grandma (who just ignores Lisa), "Anne's family made it to California okay, which is where they settled. They passed through the Rocky Mountains before any avalanches hit them, and no Indians did anything to them. (Whew!) They had a big family reuinion with Ma's relatives, who had already settled in California."

"Yuck," muttered Shawna. "Last time I went to a family reunion, a bunch of strange old ladies that I'd never seen before pinched my cheeks and told me I was their favorite." (Brat.)

Grandma laughed. "Watch what you say about my sisters! Anyway, Anne grew up and married a wonderful man named Lawrence, and became a teacher. But she never forgot her journey, or her brother, Billy."

"That was okay!" said Shawna.

"Yeah, it was pretty interesting," agreed Jennifer.

"It was boring," complained Marcus. (Monster.) He squinted at the window. "Hey, look, Granny, the rain's gone! Can we play outside? Can we?"

"You certainly can."

"Come on, Bry." Marcus and Bryan waddled outside. (Maybe they shouldn't bake so many cookies.)

"What do you want to play?" Bryan asked. "Cops and robbers?"

"Nope," was Marcus's reply. "Let's play ... pioneers!"

The End
***

Marcus needs to make up his mind. He called the story boring, yet two minutes later he's all "Let's play pioneers"?

For reasons FAR beyond me, I got an A+ on the story part of this assignment!

_____

Finally -- back to the cardstock cover -- the inside back cover includes the following gem:

About the Author

Tammy Tillinghast was born in Tacoma, Washington, in 1979.

A writer since the age of five, Tammy started because she was jealous of her sister, Heather, who is also a writer. Her first short story was "Penny and Reneé"; her first long story was "The Meter Family". She has been to two Young Author's Conferences -- one for "Tammy's Book O' Poems" (?!?! talk about something I have no memory of writing!) and one for "A Porpoise's Life."

Miss Tillinghast is presently living near Gig Harbor, with her parents; sisters Heather, Angie, and Missy; brother Andy; dogs George, Nicky, Stacy, Courtney, and Howie; and cat Chester.

_____

Needless to say, most of those pets have passed on, although Howie -- the only one who actually WAS "my" pet (as opposed to a family pet) -- is still going strong at 17 1/2!
____

Last but not least, the back cover features another faux barcode, as well as the Australian and New Zealand prices ($3.95 and $4.95, respectively) and the following preview:

One day, the Zuendel children are bored, so Grandma tells them a story about her grandma, a pioneer named Anne.

"Informative and educational."
- The Tillinghast Times * (a starred review)

"Tells a lot about pioneers."
- Tammy Gazzette

"Good short story for school."
- The T.C. Tribune

How obsessed with my own name was I back then?

************************************************************************
Well, I hope everyone really did learn a lot about pioneers. Now I'm in the mood to go play Oregon Trail (and intentionally give my wagonmates smallpox, so they can die like poor Billy did).

Up next ... old-school Lisa and the Angels (before they were rock stars!).

Tammy the Little Mermaid - The Finale (plus previews!)

2009-01-19T02:44:00.000-08:00

Here you go ... here's the long-awaited ending to this epic drama. As far as endings go, it's pretty disappointing; I must admit that I think that Tammy deserved a different fate, and I suspect others will agree. But read on and see for yourself.

And as an extra "treat", once you're done you'll find two previews from (never written) Fruitville books!

Chapter Fifteen

It was the big day! The morning of the play! It was a Friday, and the orphans and Madison boys would get to miss school again. They would need all day to prepare.

After Tammy's little "talk" with Joan, she had started to come to school again. The popular orphans didn't even say anything to her; they just ignored her. But that was good enough for Tammy. She talked to Joan, and Barbara, and Hollie, and Tyanne. Tammy never thought she'd actually talk to them, but they weren't that bad. (Oh, Tammy, likable as always!)

So on the day of the play, Tammy felt it would be okay if she just watched it, but didn't participate. Watching wouldn't do any harm, and she could see if Stella made a better Ariel.

But she wasn't counting on Brett to be at the morning dress rehearsal. (Um, why WOULDN'T he be, dummy? He's the boy star!) He was in his Erik costume (the costumes had arrived at the orphanage just in the nick of time) helping Mr. DiBiaz move the finally-finished scenery. He looks so cute, Tammy thought wistfully. She was surprised at how much she still missed him. Maybe it would be okay if she just smiled at him or something. Maybe he missed her, too.

But no such luck. When Tammy caught Brett looking at her, she smiled a tentative smile. Brett frowned, turned to Kevin, whispered something in his ear, and laughed.

Tammy felt her heart sink. Brett still thought she was a crazy, psychopathic maniac. (As opposed to just your average maniac?) It would never change. He would always hate her; everyone would. Why did she ever listen to Joan Quackenbush? Joan Quackenbush was a geek. A fat, overgrown whale. How could someone whose favorite hobby was eating understand anything besides food?

(And yet again, SHE WONDERS WHY EVERYONE HATES HER?)

Forget the stupid play, Tammy thought sadly. I'm not even in it, so why go? I'll be better off in my room forever.

***

"Orphans! Boys!" The chattering continued. "Orphans! Boys!" Nobody even turned around.

"ORPHANS! BOYS! LISTEN TO ME!"

The kids stopped what they were doing and faced Mr. DiBiaz. "Jeez," Wendy began. "Do you have to yell so loud? We..." Mr. DiBiaz gave her a dirty look and she shut up.

"Thank you," he said, looking satisfied. "Okay, orphans and boys, our play is tonight! I'm pumped up (beyond shut up, Mr. DiBiaz) and ready to have a successful play!" The kids began to screech and cheer, but Mr. DiBiaz didn't stop them. He just grinned and held up his hand.

"Okay, okay, I know you're excited, but we need to begin our dress rehearsal if we want to have a successful play. Listen to these directions, and we'll have a successful dress rehearsal, too. I want each and every one of you to go backstage. There will be no talking whatsoever. If I hear so much as one little peep, you will march straight to time-out, and not be allowed to participate in any more Fruitville productions."

"What if a chick sneaks in?!" Virginia Vaughn cried. She started to howl with laughter, but Mr. DiBiaz screamed, "Virginia, any more of your little jokes, and you won't be in this play!!!"

(Maybe she's trying to get sent to time-out to get away from Mr. DiBiaz's scary every-other-second mood swings?)

"Sorry," Virginia muttered.

"Never mind the sorrys. Don't talk! Okay, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, you will all go backstage and stay quiet. Except for the choir, who will all sit off to the side, and come up onstage when I motion them to. Then I will give a little speech, and the play will begin! Shall we start?"

"YES!!!!!"

Mr. DiBiaz grinned. "Okay! Everybody troop backstage!"

***

"She's our sister, Ari-e-e-e-e-el..." the six sisters sang. (Wasn't it nice of Disney to give them the rights to these songs?)

"ARIEL!" Triton boomed warningly.

It was the scene of the play where Ariel first appeared, and the set changed right after Triton's line. The set movers did their job, then...

"Flounder, where's Ariel?" Mr. DiBiaz cried anxiously. Meg had come onstage by herself!

"I don't know." Meg shrugged under her Flounder costume. "I couldn't find her."

"Uh ... ARIEL!" John Ketchum (Triton) boomed again helpfully.

Mr. DiBiaz gave him a disgusted look. "That won't do anything. Quick, everybody! Look for Stella!"

"Stella! Stella!" everybody started to cry, running backstage.
(Actually, I think Triton's idea was better.)

"Maybe she's in the bathroom!" Scott Kendrick shouted.

"No, she's probably getting her costume on somewhere!" Brenda yelled.

"Stella!" "Stella, it's your turn!" The orphans and boys looked in the halls, the classrooms, the bathrooms. Stella wasn't anywhere!

"Uh-oh!" Brett cried, looking alarmed.

"What?" Everyone swiveled around to look at him.

"Tammy! Oh, my gosh, you guys, Tammy must have killed her!"

Several kids started to laugh. (Who could blame them?) "What are you talking about, Brett?" Mr. DiBiaz asked sharply.

"I'm serious! It said so in her diary! She doesn't like Stella, and she said she was going to put detergent in her drink! I bet she did it!"

"He's right!" cried Kevin.

"She's a maniac," said Scott Lunsford.

"I saw it, too," Wendy added. "Beth showed it to me." (Like you don't know full well your dumb sister wrote it.)

Mr. DiBiaz paled. "Where is Beth?"

"Upstairs," said Belinda. "I'll go get her." Belinda ran off.

"Did anybody else see this?" Mr. DiBiaz asked.

"I did," said Christina.

"So did I," said Janine.

"Me, too," said Tami.

(What lying liars who lie!)

"She has been acting rather strangely lately ... my goodness, we have a murderer on our hands!" Mr. DiBiaz cried. "Come with me, kids, I have to see that diary!"

(And, of course, Mr. DiBiaz just automatically believes them...)

Just then, Belinda and Beth appeared, panting. "What is it?" Beth asked breathlessly.

"Beth Harris," Mr. DiBiaz said slowly. "Is it true that you saw in Tammy Morris's diary that she was planning to kill Stella?"

"Y-yes," Beth stammered.

"My goodness! We..."

"I found Stella! I found Stella!" Megan Bagley ran over the group. "She's in the bathroom on the A-floor. She's really sick. She's throwing up."

"Was she poisoned?!" Brett screamed.

Megan looked disgusted. "No. It's nothing worse than the flu. But she needs help."

"I'll send my wife up there. Megan, go tell Mrs. DiBiaz what you just saw. I need to discuss something with these other orphans," Mr. DiBiaz said firmly.

(Ha -- the only thing better than referring to them as "orphans" is referring to them as "these other orphans." Dismissive much?)

Beth looked frightened. "What do you need to discuss?"

"What you saw in that diary. Frankly, I don't understand what you were doing with the diary, but that isn't important. This is serious business. Somebody wants to murder someone. Tammy could be dangerous. She needs psychiatric help ... and she needs it fast."

(Okay, he is offically not qualified to be running this place! Not that we didn't already know that.)

"Will she have to go to a nuthouse?" Wendy asked.

"That is a big possibility. Right now I have to go up and have a talk with her."

"Wait!" Beth cried. "Before you go, I have to ... I have to tell you something."

Mr. DiBiaz turned to her. "What is it, Beth?"

"Well..." Beth bit her lip. "Tammy doesn't need psychiatric help. She doesn't need it at all. If anyone does, I do." Beth paused. "I wrote those diary entries."
(Aw, not an oh-so-conveniently timed attack of conscience!)

"WHAT?!!!!," everyone screeched.

"I wrote the entries. I'm really sorry. It was a really stupid thing to do. I don't even know why I did it. Well, yes, I do, but I really don't feel like telling everybody. But, Mr. DiBiaz, Tammy shouldn't get in trouble."

"You mean, she's not crazy?" Brett shouted.

Beth shook her head miserably.

"Oh, Beth," Mr. DiBiaz murmured. "Oh, Beth. And..."

"The stuff I said she said about everyone?" Beth interrupted. "Those were lies, too."

"You mean, she didn't call me any names?" Wendy yelled.

"She ... she was telling the truth?" Tami looked amazed.

Beth nodded.

"Oh, man," Brett muttered. "No wonder she quit the play. I was such a jerk. And I didn't even have any reason to be!"

"You hurt her feelings," Joan Quackenbush spoke up wisely.

Everyone looked at her. "How do you know?" Tami asked.

"I know," was Joan's reply. (Poor Joan sure cares more about her BFF Tammy's feelings than the other way around.)

"Uh-oh!" Scarlett Steinberg screamed suddenly.

"What is it? What is it?" the kids cried.

"Tammy quit the play. Stella's sick. We don't have an Ariel!"

"You're RIGHT!" Mr. DiBiaz shouted. He buried his face in his hands. "Oh, no..."

"We don't," Beth said slowly. "Unless..."

"Unless?" Wendy echoed.

"TAMMY!" everyone suddenly screamed in unison.

"Come on, let's go get her!" Beth cried.

(Noooo!)

About twenty kids ran upstairs to room B-2 and threw open the door. Tammy was lying on her bed, reading.

"Come on," Tami ordered, grabbing her wrist. "We need you. You're coming with us."

"Wait, what are you talking about? I'm not coming with you! Why are you all in here?"

"We need you!" Tami repeated.

"Stella's sick..." Beth began.

"She can't do her part," Wendy added.

"And you're our Ariel!" Brenda finished.

"But I quit!" Tammy cried.

"Who cares? The play was terrible without you, anyway!" Kevin replied. "Come on!"

"But ... but I can't! I can't go out there with Brett..."

"It's okay," Brett said from the back of the crowd. "I want you to be in it. Please?"

"I don't have a costume..."

"Wear Stella's," Beth interrupted. (Ew, is it all covered with vomit?) "Please come with us. Please!"

"We beg you!" Wendy added.

"Well..." Tammy put her book down. "Okay, I guess. I'd better hurry, though!"

"Yea!!!" everyone cheered. (Yes, I spelled 'yea' BSC-style.) They started downstairs. Beth stayed behind, waiting for Tammy. When it was just the two of them, Beth said, "Tammy? I-I'm sorry."

Tammy smiled. "You did write those diary entries, huh?"

Beth nodded. "Yup. I did. I also told everyone lies about you."

Tammy looked surprised. "You spread rumors?"

"Well, no. But sort of. I told everyone you called them those dumb names."

Tammy snickered. "A Thanksgiving ham fit for an elephant?"

Beth looked sheepish. "Yeah. And a mouse, and a geek, an a whole bunch of other stupid things. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay. But ... how come?"

"How come I lied to everyone? I wanted you to lose your part in the play."

"Well, I figured that out when I read your note to Stella. But how come you didn't want me in the play?"

"Um, um..." Beth looked uncomfortable. "Don't get mad or anything, but I ... I didn't really like you. (*snort*)I didn't hate you, but..."

"How come you didn't like wonderful me?" Tammy grinned.

Beth looked pained. "Because ... because I was jealous of you. I..."

"I knew it!" Tammy cried triumphantly.

"Knew what?! I'm really sorry, but that's another thing that bugs me about you. You..."

"Brag too much?" Tammy smiled sadly. "Joan Quackenbush told me the same thing, if you can believe it. I don't mean for it to annoy people. It just does. But it's better than, like, complaining about myself ... isn't it?"

"I guess so," Beth replied. "But do you really think you're that good? Not that you're bad, but..."

Tammy laughed. "Of course not! I definitely don't hate myself, but I don't think I'm God's gift or anything. I know I have my faults, but I have my good points, too, but ... oh, who cares! I've always hated that all that self-esteem junk, haven't you?" (What kind of conversation is this?)

"Yeah," Beth agreed. She grinned. "Tammy, I'm sorry ... again. I really am."

"It's okay ... again. I'll try not to brag so much, okay?"

"Okay. And I'll never, ever turn everyone against you like that again. Honest, I can't believe I did that. Oh, and by the way, I told everyone that I lied, and I'm pretty sure no one's mad at you anymore."

"They aren't?" Tammy grinned. "Thanks, Beth."

"Don't thank me. I don't deserve to be thanked after what I did. Just consider it kind of a ... oh, never mind. Friends?" (Gag.)

"Friends. Come on, though, we'd better get down there before the play starts!"

"The play! I forgot all about it!"

Quickly, the two girls ran downstairs to the auditorium's backstage. Everyone else was already in costume and ready for a last minute rehearsal.

"Tammy!" Mr. DiBiaz cried when he saw her. "Oh, thank goodness you're here. Your first costume is right there, and the costumes for when you have legs are around here somewhere. You know all your lines and everything, don't you?"

"Yup!" Tammy replied.

"Okay. Go change ... quickly! We're running out of time!"

Tammy found her costume, went into a dressing room, and put it on.

"You look ... like the Little Mermaid," she muttered to herself as she stared in the mirror. "Except the Little Mermaid's hair is straight and red, and yours is blonde and curly. Oh, well." Tammy was ready to act!

She went backstage and was just about to walk over to Beth and Tami when she felt a hand on her arm. It was Brett.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"H-hi!" Tammy smiled.

"Um ... Beth told me she lied. You were right. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Tammy replied. "No harm done."

"I'll talk to you some more after the play. Good luck today, Tammy."

"You, too, Brett." They gave each other a small hug, and walked off. Tammy was so overwhelmed! An hour ago, she was sitting in her room, mourning about everything she had lost, and now she and Brett had made up, nobody was mad at her anymore, and she was about to star in the play! There could possibly be a huge audience in the auditorium, and Tammy hadn't looked at her lines for over two weeks, but she knew she was ready for anything.

Chapter Sixteen

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, grandmas and grandpas! (Aren't they part of the "ladies and gentlemen"?) Welcome to Madison Middle School and the Fruitville Orphanage for Girls' production of ... The Little Mermaid!" Mr. DiBiaz cried. The audience, which was huge considering it was mostly the boys' friends and families, clapped and cheered. Mr. DiBiaz grinned and continued.

"Thank you, thank you. Now, the kids have been working on this play nonstop for six weeks and they've been working hard. I must say, it is quite a play. We've had a few problems, but overall, it's been great. I won't keep on talking, though. I think it's time to ... let the show begin!"

The audience clapped politely as Mr. DiBiaz motioned for the choir to come upstage and the red velvet curtain opened. The choir was graceful, and they sang the right song. (I should hope they sang the right song...) So far, so good.

Then John, Kevin, Becca, and Ryan Wilson entered. The only thing that went wrong there was that John's long white Triton beard fell off. (Ha ha!) But he just casually put it back on. Scott Lunsford (Sebastian) was perfect, and the sisters were excellent.

"Are you ready?" Tammy whispered to Meg backstage while the set movers were moving the sets.

"Ready!" Meg replied.

"Okay! I only did the dress rehearsal, so ... don't blame me if I mess up!"

"Don't worry. We barely did anything besides the dress rehearsal," Meg told her. "It's time for us to enter!"

Tammy and Meg didn't have to worry about anything. They were perfect ... the best anyone had ever been! Brandon Douglas (Scuttle) was magnificent, too. If the rest of the play continued to go so well, it could have been on Broadway. (I think my third-person omniscient narrator is overdoing it just a little...)

And it did! Almost. The choir and characters started to sing "Kiss de Girl" when they were supposed to sing "Under the Sea." (The h*ll? Are these idiots using a background tape or what?) But they quickly corrected their mistake. And once, the scenery almost fell right on top of Tammy and Brett. But it didn't. (Too bad.)

The play was definitely a success! At the end, when the cast took their bows, Brett and Tammy received a standing ovation! Belinda did, too, as Ursula.

"You were wonderful!" Mr. DiBiaz cried when they were all backstage after the play. "Magnificent, excellent, wonderful! Oh, Tammy, you made such a good comeback! Brett, son, I was fooled into think you really were a prince named Erik. Belinda ... what a witch! Brandon and Scott, you were both funny, and Meg, you were so cute! John, you were a terrific Triton, and Desi, you were the best chef I could have seen! All of you..."

"We did good?" Beth spoke up.

"Better than good! Marvelous!"

"What do we do with our costumes?" Meg asked. "Can we keep them as souvenirs? Dress-up clothes or something?"

Tami started to laugh. "You still play dress-up?"

"No." Meg looked embarrassed. "Just never mind."

Mr. DiBiaz smiled. "Yes, you may keep your costumes. (What are they supposed to do with them? Use them as Halloween costumes?) Try to keep them in good shape, though."

"What do we do with them right now?" Tami asked.

"Everybody change back into your normal clothes and then come back here. I want to talk to you."

"He probably wants to talk about you," Brett whispered to Tammy as they headed off to change.

"I hope not," Tammy replied. She went into a dressing room, changed back into her jean-shorts and sweatshirt, then joined Brett in a little corner backstage far away from everyone else.

"I just realized something," Brett said.

"What?"

"The play is over. We won't be coming back, or I don't think we will. How are we ever supposed to see each other again?"

"Oh, yeah," Tammy murmured. "Jeez, I didn't even think of that."

Brett sighed. "How could I ever believe those stupid diary entries? I feel like such a jerk. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But we did kinda waste a lot of time we could've spent ... oh, well. It's too late for that."

"You could always come over to my house for dinner again," Brett suggested. "That was really fun. And I hope it's not too late to come over here for dinner ... you know, like you offered."

"Of course it's not. Well, if Mr. DiBiaz doesn't mind. He probably thinks we were discussing acting before."

"I'm going to miss you."

"Me, too. But it's not like we live far away from each other. We even live in the same town, and Fruitville's not exactly huge."

Brett smiled. "Yeah, but it still won't be the same. I wish you went to Madison."

Tammy grinned. "I wish you went to Fruitville."

"Sorry, I'm not a girl," Brett replied.

"It's a good thing! Well, Mr. DiBiaz wants to talk to us. We'd better go over there."

Brett sighed. "Yeah, I guess we'd better. Come on."

Most of the rest of the boys and orphans were crowded in a half-circle around Mr. DiBiaz. "Now," he was saying. "I won't be too long, because you Madison kids have parents out there waiting for you. But I just wanted to say that all of you Madison-ites have been a real pleasure to work with ... a real pleasure. I hope we can do it again sometime, and there's a good chance we will ... after all, Mr. Tatum and I are good friends. (WEHT Mr. Tatum? I guess he's just standing there in his gray suit, smiling.) Maybe we'll do Beauty and the Beast next! Well, I just wanted to tell you it's been a joy. Stop by sometime and visit. Orphans, let's give these Madison kids a hand!"

"YEA!!!!!!" the orphans cheered.

(Note, I know I had plans for a "Beauty and the Beast" follow-up, but nothing ever came of it ... not even a preview. Tragic, huh?)

"We will have at least one more get-together ... sometime next week, we're going to have a cast party here at the orphanage. Sound alright to you?"

"YES!!!!!"

Mr. DiBiaz grinned. "I thought you. Okay, you Madison kids are dismissed. See you soon!"

The Madison boys started to pour off the stage. Some of the orphans went with them. Tammy followed Brett to the back of the auditorium, where Mrs. Jamison and Brandon were standing.

"Son, you were wonderful!" Mrs. Jamison cried, kissing Brett on the cheek. She turned to Tammy. "And, dear, you were glorious, too! (Glorious?) But Brett told me they found a new Ariel."

"She got sick," Tammy said nonchalantly.

"Oh, well, that's too bad. But Brandon has something for the both of you."

Blushing, Brandon whipped two red roses out from behind his back.
"Here," he muttered, handing one to Tammy and the other to his brother.

"I'm a guy," Brett replied, holding his rose gingerly. "You don't give flowers to guys. What are you, a..."
(Shut up, Brett.)

"Oh, Brett, stop it. He's your brother, and besides, I got it for you."

"Thanks." Tammy smiled at Mrs. Jamison. "It's pretty."

"Yes, well, you always give flowers to the stars," Mrs. Jamison replied.

"It was supposed to be for that other girl," Brandon spoke up.

"Oh, Brandon!" Mrs. Jamison smiled at Tammy. "It was supposed to be for Stella," she admitted. "But you were the star."

"Well," she continued. "We must be going. I'm going to take the boys out for ice cream. Do you think your orphanage leader would let you come with us?"

"He might!" Tammy said excitedly. "Let me go check."

Five minutes later, she was back. "He said no," she said, unable to hide her disappointment. "Sorry."

"Oh, dear, it's okay. Maybe another time. I'm sorry, too, but we really have to go. You can call any time you want."

"I will," Tammy promised.

"Good. Bye, honey. See you!"

"Bye. Bye, Brandon! It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the rose. Bye, Brett. See you at the cast party."

"Yeah," Brett agreed. "And promise you'll call, like, tonight or tmorrow."

"I promise," Tammy said solemnly.

The Jamisons said goodbye again, and they were off. Tammy watched them leave, sadly.

"It's gonna be strange without them here, huh?" Tami said, walking up behind her friend. "You know Tom Hart? I was starting to like him a lot. I know I'm going to miss him, too."

"Yeah. It's too bad I had to make up with Brett today. Oh, well. At least I made up with him."

"Well, a little of that's my fault. I didn't apologize before, did I? I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I almost forgot about that."

"You did really good in the play," Tami said sincerely.

"Thanks. So did you!"

"Yeah, in my huge part," Tami grinned. "It was fun, though. I'm glad I got to be in it."

"Me, too," Tammy replied. "Considering I almost wasn't." (And whose fault would that have been, quitter?)

"What do you say we go sneak some snacks from the kitchen to celebrate?"

"You know," Tammy said. "That sounds really good. We can talk, too."

"About Brett," Tami kidded.

"Or Tom," Tammy retorted jokingly. "Come on, we'd better hurry before Joan gets there first!"

THE END

***

Yes, that's the wonderful ending. I'm sorry.

But look what I found in the back of my notebook! A page that says -- and I quote -- Check for these Fruitville titles! Coming soon!

This first one features some girl named Jill Bray, a character who I don't think made even ONE appearance in Tammy the Little Mermaid, as well as her best friend, Kendra Hogan. (Who appeared as an extra. You might recall earlier in the story, how Tammy told herself how nice and compassionate she really was to associate with not-very-pretty girls like Kendra and Deena Boulder.)

From Fruitville #4, Jill and the Accident:

"You can come on in," the nurse told Kendra. "But be warned. Her appearance might frighten you."

"O-okay," Kendra mumbled. She stepped into the dim hospital room, and gasped. Jill was lying on a white bed, pale as her sheets ... except for the purple bruises on her face. She was hooked up to about a zillion machines. A white bandage was wrapped around the top of her head. But the worst part, to Kendra, was Jill's stillness. She looked like she was dead or something ... hardly the same Jill who was in the car with Kendra that very morning, babbling about the contest.

"Oh, Jill," Kendra murmured. "This is all my fault." If only she hadn't told Jill that seat belt story! Jill would be in her room at Fruitville right now, preparing for the poster contest, not lying in a coma, in a hospital bed.

An image flashed into Kendra's mind, the same one that had been haunting her for the past seven hours. It was two years earlier, and Kendra was in the car with her parents. They were chatting conversationally when Kendra noticed an out-of-control truck weaving toward her, just like the truck that had come weaving toward Mrs. DiBiaz's van. Kendra screamed, the car overturned, and the next thing she knew, she was in the hospital. Kendra was alive. She was lucky. But she never saw her parents again. They had not been so lucky. And it looked like Jill wasn't going to be so lucky, either.

*

Obviously, I was attempting to channel my inner Lurlene McDaniel when I wrote the above.

Anyway, this next one features good old Joan Quackenbush!

From Fruitville #5, Joan's Diet:

I'm healthy. Not fat. Healthy, Joan pep-talked herself. Somehow she wasn't feeling as confident any more, though. If Hollie was supposed to diet, how was Joan going to get out of it? Joan weighed about ten times more than Hollie!

"Diet," Joan muttered, like it was a dirty word. "I am not going to diet."

"Joan Quackenbush," the nurse called out robotically.

"Here goes nothing," Joan said to Barbara and Tyanne. Feeling nervous, she trudged into the small office. The nurse was writing something down on a clipboard. When she saw Joan, she took one look at her and gaped. That was exactly the word for it. Gaped.

"What are you gaping at?" Joan muttered.

The nurse cleared her throat. "It looks like you've been eating too many Twinkies!" was her reply. "Well, we can't waste time. Onto the scale."

"I hate scales!" Joan whined. But she stepped onto the dumb machine anyway, and the nurse made the adjustments. Her mouth became a big "O."

"I'm not fat, I'm..." Joan started to protest.

"Not fat?!" the nurse interrupted. "Not fat?! Girl, you are obese! Do you know how much you weigh? Do you? YOU WEIGH 140 POUNDS!" (OMG!! *keeling over in shock*)

"So?" Joan retorted.

"So?! So, we have got to get you on a diet! WE HAVE GOT TO GET YOU ON A DIET ... RIGHT AWAY!!!"

*

I actually DID start this one, but only wrote about ten pages. (Un?)fortunately, it's VERY much long-lost!

************************************************************
Coming soon: The Charles Ingalls interview/pioneer story (it'll just be one post), then back to Lisa and the Angels!

Finally, I wanted to mention my new blog, which you can find here, and which chronicles my "adventures" as a not-quite-30-year-old Stage IV breast cancer patient! If that sounds like a really cheery subject, I promise the blog won't be depressing. At least it's not supposed to be depressing.

(And if you do check on it, try not to confuse me with our favorite self-proclaimed "most wonderful person evah!" heroine, Tammy. Only 13-year-old me would name a character after myself. Even though she was really named after Tommy Morrison.;>)

Very brief update

2009-01-12T21:23:00.000-08:00

I'm still alive! Though, on that note, I've been a little busy growing accustomed to a rather unexpected health-related situation (something that requires a lot of lovely tests and appointments), which I learned about just a few days after I posted my last entry. On top of that, I'm getting ready for a wedding in April. (Plus, of course, there were the holidays...) So I apologize for the lack of updates.

But rest assured (I know you're all just DYING to know what happens with the play!) I'll be posting the last installment of "Tammy the Little Mermaid" soon; I'm thinking this weekend, at the latest. After that, I have a short story to post ... including (get this) an "interview" with Charles Ingalls! Then some OLD SCHOOL Lisa and the Angels!

So stay tuned! I also look forward to catching up with all the other awesome nostalgic blogs out there...

Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Seven

2008-12-15T04:14:00.000-08:00

Wow, it feels like I've been posting this one forever! Actually it's probably the longest of the stories that I know I still have. (If I find the "super special" where the Fruitville girls go on a camping trip, that one's even longer. They're a little nicer to each other in that book.)

I thought about posting the rest of Tammy's adventures in one fell swoop, but I might as well stick with just two chapters. Let's see what happens after Brett dumped in her front of the whole orphanage...

Chapter Thirteen

"Quit!" Mr. DiBiaz exploded, running after Tammy. "You can't quit! (I'm firing you!) What are you talking about? You're Ariel!"

"I don't care!" Tammy sobbed, turning around. "Jeez, all you care about is the stupid play. Don't you see what just went on in there? Haven't you seen what's been going on ever since this play started? No one wants me in there, Mr. DiBiaz. I quit! It'll make them all happy."

"Wait! What?" Mr. DiBiaz sputtered. "What are you talking about? You're wonderful up there on stage!"

"Yes, but that doesn't matter to them. Why don't you just go direct the play. Find a new Ariel. Have Beth do it. Or Stella." Tammy started to walk off.

"Don't go!" Mr. DiBiaz begged. "Please don't quit. We need you. No one can memorize their lines fast enough to get a new Ariel now." (Well, she is mute for half the story...)

"Make them," Tammy said simply.

Mr. DiBiaz decided to try the tough act. "Tammy Morris -- you get into that auditorium and onto that stage right now!" he cried, pointing a finger toward the auditorium.

Tammy just stood there.

"You're going to ruin the play," Mr. DiBiaz warned.

"I'm sorry, Mr. DiBiaz," Tammy sighed. "But right now some things are more important to me than this play."

Tammy walked away while Mr. DiBiaz watched her helplessly. There goes my star, he thought.

(Okay, Mr. DiBiaz is way, way too into this play. Like anyone would care about it. Except maybe Brett's mom and a few other parents.)

"Mr. DiBiaz, are we ever going to start?!" a voice yelled impatiently from the auditorium.

"Yes! Yes, I'm coming." The orphans and Madison kids were all crowded in a big heap on the stage.

"Where's Ariel?" a boy cried.

Mr. DiBiaz took a deep breath. "Ariel quit," he replied matter-of-factly, looking expectantly at the orphans. But none of them looked like they were about to admit anything.

"Well?!" Mr. DiBiaz cried impatiently after about five minutes of silence. (That long? Or is my third person omniscient narrator exaggerating?) "Why did she quit?!"

"I don't know," about sixty people replied innocently.

Mr. DiBiaz rolled his eyes. "She said something about something that just went on and something that's been going on since the play started. What was she talking about? Brett? Do you know?"

"I have no idea," Brett mumbled, looking very uncomfortable. (Liar!)

"Well, okay. But there's no play anymore."

"What?!" everyone cried.

"We have to have the play!" Beth shouted.

"We've worked so hard on it!" Kevin Sumner added.

Mr. DiBiaz threw his arms up. "We can't have The Little Mermaid with no Ariel! (Then you should have cast an understudy like a good play director, Mr. DiBiaz.) I'm sorry. I'm just as disappointed as you are."

Stella raised her hand. "Mr. DiBiaz, I know most of Ariel's lines. Do you think I could do the part? You can give me a try right now. I bet I can do it."

"You know Ariel's part? All of it?"

"Most of it," Stella replied. "I can memorize the rest."

"But who will play Ursula in disguise?"

"I'll do it," Beth volunteered. "It's barely a part at all. I can learn it."

"Beth? You will?" Mr. DiBiaz cried. "You girls've got the ... wait! I just thought of something." Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "The programs were just sent out. The programs have Tammy's name on them."

"So?" Stella smiled. "Having a successful play is more important than being a star. I don't care if no one knows my name."

"Great! You girls've got the parts! Let's give you both a run right now to see how you are."

"Okay!" Beth and Stella cried happily. "Stel," Beth whispered in Stella's ear before they began. "I think we should do this planning stuff professionally!" (Retch.)

***

Tammy was lying on her bed daydreaming about the good old days -- when she was back in her old town, in her old house. Those were the days when she actually had friends. Why did she have to lose everything so suddenly? Before she came to this stupid orphanage, she had the perfect life. She had never been dumped. (Imagine that ... eleven years old and never been dumped!) Ever.(She had also never cared for any other boy as much as she cared about Brett.)

"Boy," Tammy muttered. "My parents, my friends, my dog, and my boyfriend all in less than a year."

(I'm surprised she bothered to include her parents...)

"Do you enjoy talking to yourself?" Beth asked rudely, coming into the room.

"Beth, please get out of here," Tammy sighed. She was in no mood to fight.

"I just wanted to give you this," Beth snickered. She tossed the small, flowered diary onto Tammy's bed and walked off, whistling. (Wow, what a brazen little antagonist!)

Tammy rolled her eyes and opened the book. Maybe now she could find out what Brett was talking about.

The first fake entry was dated March 12th. It began:

Well, today I did it. I got my guy! Brett has definitely fallen for me. Poor sucker. Little does he know what I'm really doing...

Tammy read the rest of the entry, feeling horrified. "Oh, my gosh," she murmured, closing the diary. "I didn't write that." But no wonder Brett hated her! He must have thought she was some kind of maniac.

The next entry was even worse. It said that Tammy was going to put detergent in Stella's drink. Detergent! Tammy would never kill anyone. But apparently, Brett didn't know that.

For the second time that day, Tammy began to cry. She wished she could put detergent in her own drink. (Oh, for crying out loud, just call Brett and tell him you didn't write it!) She had never been more embarrassed in her life. What a year this was turning out to be!

Christina opened the door. "Dinner!" she called out in a sugar-sweet voice.

"I don't want any," Tammy muttered, turning around so Christina wouldn't see her crying.

"Why? Will it remind you of the dinner Brett was supposed to have..."

"Christina, SHUT UP AND GET OUT OF HERE!" Tammy yelled. She pushed Christina out of the way, shut the door, and locked it. Ten minutes later, no one had even come to beg for her to come eat. (Gee, you're not just fishing for attention, Tammy.) The grown-ups don't even care, Tammy thought bitterly. (But five minutes later, a stupid brown tray was pushed under her door.)

The next day, Megan Bagley was the first one to notice Tammy wasn't in class. "Where's Tammy?" she asked anxiously.

"Who cares?" Beth snickered.

"No one's ever absent. She could've killed herself or something. I haven't seen her since play practice yesterday."

Beth was beginning to look the slightest bit worried. "Maybe someone should go check on her."

"She was just fine in the morning!" spoke up Janine.

"Then that means she's skipping!" Beth cried gleefully. "I'm going to tell on her. Miss Jenkins! Miss Jenkins!"

"Yes, Beth?" Miss Jenkins replied coolly.

"Tammy's not in class, and she's not sick," Beth announced.

Miss Jenkins looked at Tammy's empty desk. "Why, you're right! Tsk, tsk." She picked up the wall phone and all the orphans watched curiously as she said, "Nick? Tammy Morris is not in class ... mmm-hmm ... mmm-hmm ... oh, I see ... yes ... yes, I will ... thank you." Miss Jenkins hung up the phone and looked around at her students. "Megan Bagley, will you please go up to B-2 and get Tammy?"

"Sure," Megan replied. She stood up and was just about out the door when Miss Jenkins leaned over and whispered, "Tell her she's not in trouble and we understand, but she has to come to school."

"Okay," Megan said. On the way up to Tammy's room, Megan decided she was glad Miss Jenkins had chosen her. She had never really been mad at Tammy, and she kind of sensed Beth was lying about all those "names" Tammy called everyone. She wanted to let Tammy know she still had one friend.

(Sure, Megan, as long as you're by yourself and don't have to worry about crossing Beth, then Tammy is your friend...)

But when Megan saw Tammy's door closed, she began to feel a little uneasy. Who knew what could be behind there?

"Oh, well," Megan muttered. Bravely, she knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" a voice called glumly.

"It's me. Megan. Can I come in?"

There was a pause. "Why?"

"Mr. DiBiaz wants you to come to school," Megan replied honestly.

The voice sighed. "Hang on. I'm coming out."

Megan stood there for about ten minutes. "Tammy?" she finally said.

"Megan, can you come in here for a sec?" (Isn't that what she just asked you if she could do?)

"Okay," Megan replied stupidly. She opened the door. Tammy was sitting on her bed, biting her lip and looking like she was about to cry.

"Are you okay?" Megan asked.

"Yeah ... I don't know. I can't go out there. Everybody saw ... that yesterday. I can't ever go out there again!"

"You have to. You have to go to school." (dork)

"I can't. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?"

"Well, I can imagine..." Megan began.

"No, you can't. Nobody hates you."

"That must be pretty hard," Megan said sympathetically.

Tammy sighed. "I was starting to get used to it, until yesterday. Why is everyone, anyway? Mad at me, I mean."

"Well ... we weren't exactly happy when we heard those names you called us..."

"What names?" Tammy asked.

"L-like me," Megan stammered. "You called me a mouse, and a geek, and..."

"Who told you this?"

"Beth," Megan whispered.

"Beth, huh?" Tammy sighed. "Figures."

"Is it even true?"

"Of course not. But it doesn't matter. It's too late. Everyone already hates me."

"I don't," Megan said.

"You're the only one. Can you just tell Mr. DiBiaz or Miss Jenkins or whoever that I'm not coming down?"

"You have to..."

"Megan, if the whole world, who hated you in the first place, watched your boyfriend dump you and call you a maniac, would you go back the next day?"

"No," Megan admitted.

"I'm not ever leaving here. Tell them they can punish me any way they want. I'm not leaving."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"Positive?" Megan pressed.

"Megan, get out of here!" Tammy's voice shook a little, and she began to cry. Since Megan felt she was at least partly responsible for all of this, she left quickly.

"Miss Jenkins, she won't come down," Megan said quietly when she was back in her classroom.

Miss Jenkins sighed. "She won't?"

Megan shook her head. "Uh-uh. I tried..."

"Oh, I know you did. You're not in trouble, honey. Just go sit down."

"Okay." Megan sat back in her seat.

"What happened?" Beth whispered.

"She won't come down," Megan replied.

Beth started to laugh, but Megan shot her a look. "Beth ... are you sure you heard Tammy say all those things about us? I mean, maybe you misunderstood..."

"Misunderstood? Are you saying I'm lying?"

"No, no," Megan replied quickly. "It's just that ... well, she's up there crying, Beth. I've never seen her cry."

"She's just doing it to get attention." (Well, yeah!)

"Then why is she in her room?"

"I - I don't know," Beth said stupidly. "She wants us to go up there?"

Megan gave Beth a doubtful look. "I just feel sort of sorry for her, that's all. That would be embarrassing to be dumped like that in front of everyone."

"She deserves it," Beth insisted. Even though she didn't think Brett should have dumped Tammy in front of everyone, nothing would change Beth's opinion. Tammy was still a conceited snob, and that's all there was to it.

***

Tammy stayed in her room for a week. Mrs. DiBiaz brought her assignments and food up. Nobody seemed to mind much. Janine and Christina got tired of bugging her, and in the outside world, the play was coming along just fine -- almost...

"COSTUMES!!!" Mr. DiBiaz boomed about a week before the play. "Your costumes are here!"
(So much for all those orphans he assigned as costume designers!)

All of the kids started to run toward him, screaming. "Where's mine?" "I want to see mine!" "Give me my costume!"

"Hold on!" Mr. DiBiaz shouted angrily. "I can't just throw them at you and have you run out and catch them! I'm going to hand them out. You all go sit down, and when I call your character's name, come up ... quietly ... and get your costume."

"Do mine first!" Belinda Kazmeyer yelled.

Mr. DiBiaz gave her a dirty look. "I will hand out your costumes in the order of which they are packaged. First..." With a struggle, he tore open the first box and pulled out a fuzzy green Oscar the Grouch costume. "Huh?" he muttered.

The next costume Mr. DiBiaz pulled out was very big, very yellow, and very feathery. The one after that had a long, banana-like face and a striped shirt (and a unibrow?) and the one afer that was dark blue with a round, light-pink nose. Impatiently, Mr. DiBiaz dug through the rest of the costumes until he came to a little booklet at the bottom of the box. The booklet said: A Day With Sesame Street - Costume Ideas.

"Oh, no!" Mr. DiBiaz cried. "They sent us the wrong costumes! The company sent us the wrong costumes." (Josephine sent them!)

"They did?!" the orphans and boys screeched. "What'd they send us?"

"Sesame Street. Sesame Street, of all things. The least they could've done was send us some Disney costumes. (Yes, because that would make so much difference for The Little Mermaid if you had a Mickey Mouse costume instead of an Oscar the Grouch one.) Oh this is just wonderful. What are we supposed to do now?"

"Check the other two boxes," Stella suggested.

Mr. DiBiaz took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Good idea. Good idea, they're probably in there." Hopefully, he tore open the second box, and pulled out ... a fish costume!

"Whew! They are in here. I was getting worried there for a second!"

"Give me my Ursula costume!" Belinda yelled.

"Wait, sweetie. I'm not sure we have all the costumes."

They didn't. And unfortunately, the ones they were missing were Ariel's, Erik's, Sebastian's, Flounder's, Triton's, Scuttle's, and Ursula's.

"Our main characters!" Mr. DiBiaz screamed. "We don't have costumes for our main characters. What are we supposed to do now?"

The kids began to screech. "Does this mean I can't be in the play?" "Some play this is going to be now!" "Great!" "Oh, boy, what a play!"

"All right, all right, calm down, kids. I'll send these Sesame things in right away, and get the real costumes on rush order." Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "I just hope they come in on time."
(Have them delivered overnight, genius.)

"And what if they don't?" Stella yelled.

"They will. They will."

The second thing that went wrong didn't happen until the "new" Ariel entered. At first, Stella just stood there.

"Say your line," Mr. DiBiaz instructed.

"I can't," Stella murmured.

"And why not?"

"I forgot it."

"STELLA SMITH! YOU'VE HAD ALMOST A WEEK TO MEMORIZE THESE LINES! HOW COME YOU FORGOT?"

Stella shrugged. "I don't know. I'm trying my best."

Mr. DiBiaz sighed, and muttered something about "not happening when Tammy was here."

Meg and Stella stood there.

"GO ON!!!!"

"Okay, okay. Um ... I can't. I don't know my line."

"SOMEBODY FEED STELLA HER LINE!"

"With a spoon?!" Virginia Vaughn yelled. She howled and slapped her knee.

"Virginia, to time-out ... right now!!! I don't have time to fool around like this!" Virgina hurried off, and Megan told Stella her line. Then the rehearsal went normally for awhile until Mr. DiBiaz realized something.

"Where's the scenery?!" he yelled.

Nobody answered.

"WHERE IS THE SCENERY?!!!!"

"Ask the set designers," Scarlett Steinberg replied, shrugging.

Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "And just where are these set designers?"

"It's Shelley, Thea, Ingrid, and Roberta," said Alexis Lugbein. "They're in the home-ec room."

('Thea' is Thea DiBiaz. Is Mr. DiBiaz too busy with orphans to keep track of his own daughter?)

"Do you know if they're close to being done, Alexis?"

Alexis shrugged. "No. They're always laughing and goofing off."

Mr. DiBiaz groaned. "Great. Great. Kids, none of this was happening when Tammy was still here. Can someone go get her ... PLEASE?!!"

"But I'm Ariel now!" Stella cried, sounding hurt.

"And she won't come out of her room," Megan added.

"Plus, it's not like bringing her into the play will make the scenery all of a sudden done and our costumes appear," Beth pointed out. "She quit. It has nothing to do with the rest of the play."

Mr. DiBiaz sighed for about the millionth time. "You're right. You're right. Orphans, boys ... I don't want to say this. I really hope this play works out. But I don't think it will."

(Sure, Mr. DiBiaz, sure. We all know it will work out just perfectly for everyone in the end. Sorry if I'm spoiling that for anyone.)

Chapter Fourteen

On Saturday morning, Tammy received a slip from the office that said, Come to the office. Immediately! This is urgent! If you don't come, you will be in time-out for a month.

(Way to make it sound like she's being threatened with solitary...)

Tammy decided to go. She was totally bored with her room anyway, and if any of the orphans saw her and made a crack, she'd just make a crack right back.

The door was closed, but it had a sign attached to it that read: Come on in, friend! So Tammy did. Mr. and Mrs. DiBiaz were sitting side-by-side at the desk.

"Tammy!" they cried in unison. "Long time no see!"

Tammy managed a small smile. "Hi."

"Sit down, sit down," said Mr. DiBiaz. "Make yourself comfortable. You're not in trouble, we just want to talk to you."

"About what?" Tammy asked, sitting down in a big, brown leather chair.

The DiBiaz's glanced at each other. "Well," Mrs. DiBiaz said. "We know something's been bothering you."

"We're not trying to interfere," Mr. DiBiaz added.

"But," Mrs. DiBiaz continued. "We're your friends, and we'd like to know what's going on."

Tammy sighed. "It's nothing, nothing's wrong, I'm just fine." She'd rather be in trouble than talk to the DiBiaz's about her problems.

The DiBiaz's sighed. "Tammy, Tammy, Tammy," Mr. DiBiaz said, shaking his head.

"Did I ever tell you the story of the ugly duckling?" Mrs. DiBiaz suddenly asked.

(Great, now I'm ripping off Full House.)

"Thanks a lot!" Tammy cried, sounding insulted. "I'm good-looking."

Mrs. DiBiaz looked hurt. "I just thought your problems might have something to do with your looks. So what are they?"

"Do you have trouble making friends?" Mr. DiBiaz asked softly.

"No! Why do you care, anyway? You already have a new Ariel. I'll stay in my dumb room forever."

"No, no, no!" Mr. DiBiaz cried.

"We're concerned about you," his wife added. "And the reason my husband asked if you have trouble making friends is because the day you quit, you said something about everyone hating you in there, and them being glad you quit. Why did you say that?"

Tammy sighed. "Do I have to tell you?"

"We'd like it if you did," Mrs. DiBiaz said softly.

"Well ... okay. The reason I said that is because it's true ... wait, do you promise you won't tell, like, the whole Fruitville staff about this?"

"We promise," Mr. DiBiaz said firmly. "What you say here is confidential. It won't leave the room."

"Okay. I said that because it's true. The day after we had auditions for this stupid play, Beth Harris did something that made everyone mad at me ... everyone. At first I was a little upset, but then I started talking to Brett, and we started going out. Well, on Monday he dumped me in front of everyone. Now all the Madison kids and all the orphans hate me."

(Um, how about telling them about the diary entries? I didn't know Tammy loved Beth so much that she'd keep her forgeries a secret.)

"Hate is a strong word, Tammy," said Mrs. DiBiaz. "They may be mad at you, but they don't hate you."

"Yes, they do," Tammy argued. "They've been mad at me for over a month."

"Well, did you do something to make them mad?"

"No! That's just it! If I did do something, I'd understand, but I didn't do anything!"

Mr. DiBiaz looked thoughtful. "So, why did you quit the play?"

"Because, didn't you hear? Brett dumped me in front of everybody, and he didn't exactly do it nicely. I can't face him again! I'll start coming back to school when the play is over, but I'm not being in that stupid play."

"But you have to!" Mr. DiBiaz cried desperately. "It's totally falling apart without you! Stella can't memorize her lines, she can't sing to save her life, the company sent us Sesame Street costumes, and we don't have any scenery! Pleeaasse come back!"

Tammy rolled her eyes. "Oh. This little 'confidential' talk is really supposed to talk me into going back into the play," she said disgustedly. "Well, I'm sorry. But the answer is no." She stood up and left the office. This whole stupid play started all of her problems, and she could not get away from it!

Tammy felt another cry coming on, and she slipped into the first room she saw -- the kitchen -- before anyone could see her. (Warning, stereotype-filled depiction of a "fat girl" ahead.) But she was too late. Joan Quackenbush was crouched sneakily by the cupboard, eating peanut butter from the jar with a wooden spoon.

"I-I'm sorry!" Joan sputtered desperately when she noticed Tammy. "I mean ... I mean ... don't tell, I mean ... I, you can have some..." (Ew!)

"Shut up, Joan. It's okay. But can you please go somewhere else?"

"NO!" Joan cried indignantly. "I was here first. What's wrong, anyway?"

"What's wrong is that I hate it here, I wish I never came, and I want to go home. Okay?" Tammy practically screamed.

Joan looked curious. "Why do you hate it here?"

"How nosy," Tammy muttered.

"No, serious. How come? I think it's pretty nifty here."

"Name one 'nifty' point," Tammy challenged.

"Well, uh ... uh ... well ... they have good food," Joan muttered.

Tammy rolled her eyes. "Joan, there are more important things in this world than food."

Joan looked shocked. "There are?!"

"Oh, who cares!" Tammy snapped. "Just shut up and get out of here!"

"Y'know," Joan said, ignoring her. "A famous philosopher once said food wasn't very important. But little did he..." (Oh, Joan, think you can overdo it a little more?)

"I DON'T CARE. GO AWAY!!!"

"Not until you tell me why you hate it here," Joan retorted.

"I hate it here because of annoying people like you. Good enough?"

(What a bit*h. Be grateful she's even talking to you, Ms. Everyone-hates-me.)

"Who else is annoying?"

"Beth, Stella, Tami ... you know. They don't like me because they're jealous of me. And you probably are, too," Tammy added smugly.

Joan clucked her tongue. "You popular girls. All you care about are your images. I bet you think they don't like you because you're too pretty, right?"

"Well..." Tammy paused.

Joan nodded knowingly. "I thought so. You probably think they want to be as pretty as you, right?"

"No..."

"Yes, you do. And you know what? You're probably right. They probably are jealous of you."

"See!" Tammy cried triumphantly. "You agree with me."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Joan wagged a finger. "You calling everyone all those names sure didn't help anything."

"What names?! I didn't call anyone any names!"

Joan shook her head. "We all heard you, Tammy. Someone said you called me a Thanksgiving ham fit for an elephant..."

Tammy snickered. "A Thanksgiving ham fit for an elephant? Don't you think I'd come up with something better than that?"

"You don't have to lie, Tammy. 'Cause, you see ... I'm fat. I know I am. I'm ugly, too. And people tease me about it. But I don't let it get to me. You know why?"

Tammy sighed. "Why?"

"Because this is the way I was made. I'm proud of it! I eat to make myself even fatter! I love being fat!"

(Um, healthy. But yay for positive body image?)

"But I don't hate being pretty. I love that, too!" (Shut up, Tammy.)

"But," Joan argued, "You don't love it when people are 'mad' at you like this, do you?"

"No," Tammy admitted.

"And you don't like it when everyone accuses you of only thinking of yourself, do you?"

"Of course not!" Tammy cried.

"You have two problems, Tammy," Joan declared.

"Who are you, my counselor?" Tammy snickered.

"No! Just listen. You have two problems. The first is that you have a bit of a bragging problem."

"What?! You fat..."

Joan held her hand up. "Wait! I'm not saying you're conceited. (But she is!) You just brag a little too much and it makes people have the wrong idea about you. You are a bit self-centered, but I think everyone is a little self-centered."

"What's my second 'problem'?" Tammy muttered.

"Your second problem is that you are too sensitive. You..."

Tammy let out a guffaw. "Sensitive? Me? Ha, ha, ha! I don't care..."

"Hiding in your room for a week because some guy dumped you?" Joan interrupted.

"I was upset, and it's not just 'some guy'!" Tammy cried. "It was Brett. You've never had a boyfriend. You don't know what it's like to have everyone in the world hate you, and then, the only person who does like you dump you in front of everyone!"

"See?" Joan said. "You let things get to you too easily. Just because Beth and a few others made some comments to you, you assumed everyone hates you. I've never hated you, Tyanne never has, and Barbara never has ... your self-centeredness comes into this, too. You'd never give us 'nerds' a chance, so if you hadn't come in here today, you'd never know that we ... along with probably half the orphanage ... don't hate you."

"That's not true..."

"Yes, it is true. You think you're too good for us."

"I do not," Tammy muttered.

"See!" Joan cried triumphantly. "You are too sensitive. You've got that hurt look on your face. Well, who cares what I say? Who cares what anyone says? Just..."

"Joan, what are you trying to prove?" Tammy interrupted. "All I did was come in here ... expecting to find nobody ... and now I'm getting a lecture on how self-centered and sensitive I am."

Joan looked exasperated. "All I'm trying to say is that when you've made up with everyone ... yes, you will make up ... and if, which I guarantee you will, you start bragging again, and they get mad at you again, don't let it get to you. Don't mourn about it. Don't think Oh, who cares about them. I'm better than them! and forget about it either, though. Just try your best to work things out, and take things one step at a time."

"I don't get it," Tammy said.

Joan made a frustrated noise. "You don't get anything, do you ... just kidding, just kidding. Well, I tried. Do you want me to leave now so you can mourn?"

"Yes."

"Okay, okay." Joan left, muttering something about "not even getting to finish my peanut butter." Tammy watched her, smiling. For some strange reason, fat Joan Quackenbush had actually helped. Tammy wasn't ready to go up and face the orphans yet. That was for sure. But for some reason, she didn't feel like crying anymore.

******************************************************************
How touching. Coming up: the last installement! The PLAY!

Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Six

2008-12-08T15:45:00.000-08:00

In my last post, I said there were six chapters left of this story. I lied -- there were actually seven (now five). Anyway, Chapter Twelve gets its own post. It might be my "favorite" chapter of all, simply for the sheer drama of it!

Also, I wanted to say thanks again for all the comments about crime-obsessed Brett, shouty Mr. DiBiaz, and of course the most wonderful person in the world herself, Tammy. I enjoy reading them. Oh, and if you're on Facebook, you can now join the "network" for this blog (see widget on the right).

Now let's get back to those crazy orphans (that's foreshadowing, by the way).

Chapter Twelve

On Friday morning, Beth woke up and thought to herself excitedly, This is the big day! I get to embarrass Tammy today! She had practically rehearsed what she was going to say to Brett. She just hoped it would work out okay.
(It's been pointed out before, but Beth really needs to go see Brett's counselor mom.)

"I just thought of something!" she cried anxiously while they were getting dressed. (they who?)

"What?" Wendy asked.

"How are we ever going to draw her away from Brett? We can't tell him that lie in front of her! She'll deny it!"

"Oh, yeah," Wendy said stupidly.

"Get her in trouble," suggested Brenda.

"Good idea! You know how Mr. DiBiaz said that if she yelled again, she'd be back in time-out? Well, I'll just get her to yell. It'll be easy! Someone wake Jinnie up. I'm gonna go eat breakfast. I want to get this school day over with as quickly as possible!"

Sixth period was the perfect opportunity to get Tammy in trouble. Beth sat right in front of her, and Mr. DiBiaz was the teacher.

"Hello, Tammy," Beth said with a funny little smile, turning around.

"Hi, Beth. Want some advice on guys or something?"

"Nah ... I don't think so," Beth replied casually. "Hey, where'd you get that necklace?"

"This?" Tammy fingered the little silver teddy bear dangling from a chain around her neck. "From Brett. Guys give you things sometimes when you're going out. Of course, you wouldn't know that."

(Um, when did Brett have time to give her a necklace? Wasn't he already having second thoughts about her like four days after they started "going out"?)

"Of course," Beth agreed. "Can I see?"

"My necklace? No!"

"Please," Beth begged. "I think the bear's kinda cute."

"Well..." Tammy considered. "Okay. But if you steal it..."

"I won't steal it," Beth promised. Tammy gingerly held out the necklace, and Beth took it. The necklace was cute, and she didn't want to do what she was about to do -- she hated ruining other people's things, even people like Tammy. But Beth had to. (Okay, that makes it all better then.) She pulled on the little charm until it popped off of the necklace.

"Oops," Beth said sheepishly.

"Oops what?" Tammy replied, looking up from her paper. "What did you do to my necklace?"

Beth held up the charmless chain. "Heh, heh," she chuckled.

"Oh, my..." Tammy rolled her eyes. "I should have known. Where's the charm?"

"I don't know," Beth said honestly.

"YOU LOST IT?! YOU'RE BUYING ME A NEW ONE!"
(Calm down, Tammy, it can't have gone that far. It's probably right there by your shoe. And what are you going to do, glue it back on?)

"Who's screaming in class?" Mr. DiBiaz demanded. "We're trying to do math! Tammy?"

Yes! Beth thought happily.

"Mr. DiBiaz, she ruined the necklace Brett gave me."

"It ... it was an accident," Beth stammered. Her lower lip was trembling. "I'll pay for it..."

"It's okay, Beth," Mr. DiBiaz said softly. "Tammy, she said it was an accident! Why did you have to interrupt us?"

"Because Brett gave it to me. It's important. Now he'll think I don't even care about him!"

Mr. DiBiaz rolled his eyes. "For Pete's sake, you're eleven years old. You'll have broken up by next week."

(Gasp, what a cold, unfeeling orphanage leader! He just doesn't understand true luv.)

"No we won't!" Tammy cried.

"Don't yell. Now, Beth offered to pay for the necklace, and I don't think she should have to. It was an accident. Accidents happen. I'll pay for the necklace."

"But that's ... not ... FAIR! SHE BROKE IT!!!"

"Tammy," Mr. DiBiaz said warningly.

"If I'd broken one of her things, you'd make me pay for it," Tammy muttered.

"Tammy, that is enough! You know I do not favor any orphans! I've just about had it with you. You interrupt us, you constantly shout. I think this calls for another trip to time-out."

"Oh, sure," Tammy said sarcastically. "You don't favor anyone. That's why when someone ruins someone else's thing, the person who ruined it gets nothing, and the other one goes to time-out. That's really treating us equally."

"Get to time-out ... RIGHT NOW!" Mr. DiBiaz boomed.

"Fine. I don't care. But what about practice? Have you forgotten that I'm the star of your play?"

"You can miss practice today! You are going to spend the rest of the night in time-out! (Will she have to sleep there?) Go there! NOW!"

"Okay," Tammy said simply, walking off.

Perfect! Beth felt like screaming. Her plan was turning out perfectly!

***
At three-thirty, Brett quickly walked into the auditorium and looked around for Tammy. He didn't see her, but he saw Beth heading toward him. Oh, good, Brett thought, pleased. Maybe she knows where Tammy is.

"Hi," Beth greeted Brett. "Um ... can I talk to you for a minute? In private?"

"Sure," Brett replied, studying Beth's face. She looked dead serious. "Does this have anything to do with Tammy?" Brett asked.

"I'm afraid so," Beth sighed. "Can we go up to one of the rooms? My room, or something?"

"I guess," Brett replied uncertainly. What was going on here?

"Don't worry," Beth reassured him as they were walking up the stairs. "It's serious, but not that serious. It just needs to be private."

"Oh." Brett breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought she -- Tammy -- committed a crime or something." Beth didn't laugh, and Brett grew more confused than ever. Was Tammy a criminal after all?

(Now I'm wondering if Brett's criminal obsession has something to do with his "shot" dad, even though I'm SURE I didn't bother to give it that much thought back when I actually wrote this.)

"You can sit on Brenda's bed," Beth said when they entered the room, after sitting down on her own bed. "She won't mind. Oh, can you shut the door?"

"Sure." Brett pushed the door closed and sat down. "So, what's this all about?"

"Well ... okay. You're going out with Tammy, right?"

"Right," Brett replied.

Beth sighed, and shook her head. "Then I have to warn you about this. You don't know about ... about Tammy's past, do you?"

"Her past? Not really. All I know is that her parents died a few months ago. Why?"

"She didn't tell you the whole story, huh? Well, there's a lot more to it than that."

"Did she committ a crime?" Brett demanded.

"Well, no. But she might. That's why I'm talking to you. You know who Stella is, right?"

"Yup," Brett said slowly. "She's the quiet one with the long blonde hair who's with you a lot."

"That's Stella," Beth agreed. "But she's not usually quiet. It all has to do with Tammy. See, Tammy came here from the streets. Her parents really died about two years ago. Mr. DiBiaz found her eating out of that dumpster out back." (OMG! Ew!)

"Yuck," Brett shuddered.

"We all thought that at first. We felt really sorry for her. Can you imagine being homeless -- a homeless girl -- at that age? I sure couldn't. But we didn't know that ... well, I'm sure Tammy was perfectly normal before her parents died. But living on the streets turned her sort of ... crazy."

"Crazy?" Brett repeated skeptically. "She doesn't act crazy."

"Well, I guess she's not crazy, exactly, but you know how people have those weird mental illnesses?" (I bet you know, Beth. And your sensitivity astounds me.)

Brett nodded.

"Tammy has one. Hers makes her a little ... strange. To some people, she'll act really nice. Then all of a sudden, she'll get moody and shout a lot. Have you noticed how often she does that? It's happened more lately because she refuses to take her pills."

"I have noticed," Bret admitted.

Beth nodded knowingly. "I try to be nice to her, and she just blows up at me. Especially around you. Some people, she takes a strong liking to, and others, she decides to especially hate. It's not that we hate her, it's just that she hates us. Well, anyway, Stella was nicest to her, so Stella was the one she decided to hate the most. And when Stella..." Beth dropped her head as if the memory were too horrible to repeat.

"When Stella what?" Brett pressed.

"Oh, sorry. Stella ... Stella used to have a crush on you. She still does, I think. She was telling Tammy about it, and Tammy just ... I don't know, she just decided to go after you. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Tammy doesn't really like you at all."

"What are you talking about?" Brett said impatiently.

"I'm sorry," Beth replied. "But it's true. If she liked you, she would've gone after you the first day. (Yes, because she had so much time to, with auditions going until after 5.) On that Tuesday, she found out Stella liked you, so she decided to go after you the next day. Didn't you notice how she was coming on to you so strong?"

"Yeah," Brett muttered. He didn't want to admit it, but the pieces were starting to fit together.

"Tammy's never had a boyfriend," Beth continued. "But she likes to go after other people's. She really can't stand Stella."

"But what does all of this have to do with crime?"

"That's the part I'm getting to. Tammy told Stella that if she even said so much as one word to you ... she'd murder her." (dramatic organ chord here)

"Murder?" Brett snickered. "Sorry, but..."

"You don't believe me?" Beth interrupted. "Brett, there are child murderers out there. Someone who's lived on the streets doesn't care about that kind of stuff. And lately ... lately Tammy has been harrassing Stella. Writing her 'I'm going to get you' notes and stuff. Stella gave the notes to me and I've got them right in my drawer if you don't believe me. I've also got something that I probably shouldn't have taken, but I'm really worried about Stella ... Tammy's diary."

"Her diary? May I see it, please?"

"You sure can." Beth opened her top drawer and pulled out the diary and notes. The diary really was Tammy's; she didn't write in it much, so she hadn't missed it when Christina took it from her drawer. Beth had "added" three other entries. Beth hoped they would fool Brett. She had spent practically all night forging those things!

Brett flipped it open to the first page. "This doesn't say anything about murder. She's talking about how wonderful she is."

"That's from a long time ago," Beth replied. "Go to March 12th. It all starts there."

"Okay." Brett found a page with March 12th written on top. He began to read.

Well, the diary said, today I did it. I got my guy! Brett has definitely fallen for me. Poor sucker! Little does he know what I'm really doing. That stupid Stella is jealous. I can just tell. She believed my murder story. She should believe it. It's true! My parents were killed. My parents were wonderful people. Stella is still alive and breathing. Stella is a witch. If my parents must die, Stella must also die. And if she so much as says one word to that moron Brett, then she WILL die.

(Ha! How soap opera-ish can you get, ~~Beth~~ Tammy?)

Brett set the book down. "I don't believe it," he murmured. The trouble was, before, he didn't want to believe it. But the evidence was right there in the diary. Brett had seen Tammy's handwriting a million times, and it was the same writing. She really was crazy.

"There's more," Beth said solemnly. "Go on."

"I don't really want to..."

"You want to," Beth corrected firmly. "Go on."

Brett shrugged. "Okay." The next diary entry was a little longer. It said:

Yesterday I went over to Brett's house. I asked him out, and you know what? The stupid idiot said yes! He actually thinks I like him. What a dummy.
Something bad happened, too, though. I overheard Stella talking about Brett. She really likes him. I can tell. And I can't have that. I saw some detergent in the laundry room. I can slip some in one of her drinks. I know I can. The problem is... when? It has to be soon. I want to get her out of my life forever.

"She's a maniac!" Brett cried before he read any further. "She's going to put detergent in Stella's drink. I can't believe I was dumb enough to actually fall for her!"

(I can't believe you're dumb enough to fall for those diary entries!)

"It's not your fault," Beth said. "Crazy people are like that. But you see why I'm worried?"

"Yeah." Brett looked at Beth sheepishly. "At first I thought you were maybe the one that was nuts. But now..." Brett shook his head. "I can't believe I thought she actually liked me."

"It's okay..." Beth began.

"No, it's not okay. If she were just crazy, then maybe I could, like, get her help or something. But she doesn't even like me! She's using me."

Beth nodded. "Are you ... are you going to do anything about it?"

"Of course I am! I'm breaking up with her! Today ... right now."

"Oh, you can't right now. She's in time-out. But you can do it tomorrow, like over the phone or something."

"Time-out? What'd she do?"

"Oh, you know how crazy people are. She just started yelling a lot."

"Figures. We'd better go downstairs now. Thanks for telling me this. I could've still been going out with a maniac."

"Well..." Beth paused. "I just hope Stella will be okay. And I don't want anything to happen to you, either."

"Thanks," Brett repeated. "Don't worry. Whenever I get the chance, I'm going to dump her. I hope she'll leave Stella alone, too."

"I hope so. Well, bye."

"Bye," Brett replied. He started to leave, then turned around. "You know, she was saying you were the bad one. But you're not half as bad as she is."

(There's a backhanded compliment if I've ever heard one. Also what's with the goodbyes? Aren't they going to see each other at practice in a minute?)

"Thanks," Beth smiled. Brett left, and Beth shut her door. She felt like screaming out loud with joy. It had worked!

***
On Saturday, Tammy practically ran to the get-together room after breakfast. She dialed Brett's number. Brandon answered.

"Hi, Brandon," Tammy said. "Is Brett there?"

"Yeah," Brandon replied. "I'll go get 'im." Tammy heard the phone drop and some muffled voices in the background. Then Brandon came on the phone.

"Um, Tammy?" he said uncertainly.

"I'm still here," Tammy told him.

"Okay. Well ... well, Brett's not here after all. Um, he .. he has school."

"It's Saturday," Tammy said bluntly.

"It is? Oh, yeah. Brett has ... Saturday school."

"What'd he do?"

"He..." Brandon paused. "He didn't do his homework yesterday."

"Oh, okay. Whatever. Thanks, Brandon." Tammy hung up the phone. Obviously, Brandon was lying. Even Tammy knew that you didn't get Saturday school just for not doing your homework for one day, and Tammy didn't even go to regular school. Brett didn't want to speak to her. But why?

Tammy tried calling Brett three more times that day. The first two times, he was still at "Saturday school", and the third time, he had all of a sudden gone to his grandmother's house for the weekend. Tammy specifically remembered Brett telling her that one of his grandmothers was dead, and the other one lived in Paris. Why were the Jamisons lying to her like this?

"Oh, well," Tammy muttered to herself after the grandmother lie. "I might as well stop calling."

But the orphans were all acting so weird. Everywhere Tammy went, they gave her funny looks. Some of them snickered, some of them looked sympathetic. Tammy had a terrible feeling that something was going on ... something she should know about. (Poor clueless Tammy...)

On Sunday evening, while she was lying in bed, Tammy decided to invite Brett over to the orphanage for dinner. She was sure Mr. DiBiaz wouldn't mind, and if he said yes, she would know for sure that nothing was wrong.

So on Monday (a little less than two weeks before the play) Tammy headed for practice in a good mood. She was sure Brett would say yes.

He was in a corner of the stage, talking to Kevin Sumner and Scott Lunsford. He frowned when he saw who was coming, but Tammy didn't notice.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "Um ... I tried to call you over the weekend, but you were at your grandmother's."

Brett didn't say anything. He just looked at Kevin and Scott and the three of them laughed.

Tammy took a deep breath, suddenly uncomfortable. "Brett..." she began. But just as she was about to go on, she realized that the dinner idea was totally stupid. Who'd want to eat dinner with a bunch of orphans?

"What do you want?" Brett snapped impatiently.

"Well ... I was just wondering if maybe you'd want to come have dinner with us sometime. I know we don't have the best food here, but..."

"No," Brett interrupted boredly. "I'm busy."

Tammy gave him a strange look. "You don't even know what date I'm talking about."

"So?" Brett shrugged. Then he sighed. "Look, Tammy, I don't even want to see you anymore. So will you please just go away?"

"Why? Did I do something to make you mad?"

Brett sighed again. "I'm getting sick of your stupid innocent act. I know the truth about you. I know why everyone hates you. They're not jealous of you. You're a maniac!" (Some of the orphans and boys snickered.)

"Brett, what in the world are you talking about?" Tammy demanded. "Where did you get that idea?"

Brett was beginning to get angry. "You really think I'm stupid, don't you? Well, as a matter of fact, I read it in your diary."

"What were you doing with my diary ... which, by the way, I haven't written in for about three months?"

"Beth gave it to me! You lied about her, too, Tammy. You're nothing but a dirty, crazy liar." ("dirty?")

"Brett, I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Tammy murmured, looking around at all the nosy faces watching her. "But can you please quiet down? Everyone's staring at us."

"NO, I WILL NOT QUIET DOWN! I DON'T CARE WHO'S STARING AT US! MAYBE THEY'LL LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT YOU, TOO!"

"Quiet," Tammy hissed. "And what 'truth'?"

"YOU KNOW WHAT TRUTH! I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE, USING ME LIKE THAT!" Now Brett was standing up. His face was bright red, he was so angry. (uh-oh!)

"I DON'T BLAME EVERYONE FOR HATING YOU!" he continued. "AND PERSONALLY, TAMMY ... I HATE YOU, TOO!"

"You do?" Tammy asked incredulously. "Why? I mean, I know I'm not as wonderful as I ... as I say I am, but I'm sorry if I did something. I thought you liked me."

"I THOUGHT so, too, Tammy! That's before I learned the truth! Now, I hate your guts. Literally. You are the lowest of the low. I can't believe you're actually thinking of murdering that poor girl."

"Murder?! I'm not going to kill anyone!"

Brett gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "You may be a liar, but I doubt you'd lie to your own diary. You're sick, Tammy. There's one more thing I want you to know. There will be NO dinners. Nothing like that. Because we're NOT going out anymore. Hear that? I'M DUMPING YOU!" (Brett and practically everyone else laughed, except for Mr. DiBiaz, who was off to the side in a conference room, lost in his own world.)

"Brett, why are you doing this?" Tammy asked quietly. "What about everything we have in common? We can't just break up."

"Yes, we can. And we don't have anything in common, Tammy. I'm not a maniac. Goodbye." With that, Brett stood up and disappeared backstage somewhere.

Tammy was speechless. She couldn't do anything but watch Brett leave. There was a huge lump forming in her throat, but she couldn't cry. She couldn't even say anything to the stupid orphans still snickering around her.

"Are we all ready to start?" boomed Mr. DiBiaz, strolling out into the auditorium.

Nobody answered. They were too busy watching Tammy.

"Is our Ariel all ready?" Mr. DiBiaz cried in that annoying loud voice.

"Mr. DiBiaz..." Tammy began. She couldn't finish, though. Those words kept repeating over and over in a mixed jumble in her head: 'You are the lowest of the low.' 'I hate you.' 'I'm dumping you.' 'Goodbye.' Brett had dumped her. The one person in the world who cared about her had dumped her, just like everyone else. Tammy would never be able to face him again.

"Mr. DiBiaz, I quit," Tammy muttered. Then she hurried out of the auditorium before the tears would spill over.
***********************************************************************
Well! Coming up next: emo Tammy, a talk with one of the "nerds", and a shout-out to Josephine Richter.

Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Five

2008-12-06T01:23:00.000-08:00

Only six more chapters to go and things are heating up! What will become of Tammy and Brett? Will Beth destroy their happiness forever? Will she tell Brett that Tammy is really a guy? Read on and see!

Chapter Ten

"Oh ... my ... gosh," Beth said slowly, walking into her room.

"What is it?" asked Brenda.

"What happened?" added Wendy.

"Oh, my gosh," Beth repeated.

"Why are you saying 'oh, my gosh'?" asked Jinnie Nye, the fourth roommate.

"I don't believe it!"

"Don't believe what?!" Brenda, Wendy, and Jinnie cried in frustration.

"She called him!"

"Tammy called Brett?" Wendy looked disgusted. "How?"

"On the phone," Beth replied, rolling her eyes.

"I know that, but how'd she get his number?"

"Don't ask me. All I know was that I was walking past the get-together room (what impeccable timing) and I saw Tammy talking on the phone, so I decided to eavesdrop. And she was talking to him!"

"What a ..." Brenda paused. "What a ..."

"Slut!" supplied Jinnie. (Gasp!)

"Yeah," Beth agreed, looking satisfied.

"Did you hear Brett's part of the conversation?" Wendy asked.

"How would I have? But Tammy's was bad enough. She sounded like a lovesick puppy. 'Oh, Brett! You're such a stud'!"

"Did she really call him a stud?" Wendy snickered.

"Well, no. But I'm surprised she didn't. She said everything else."

"We should eavesdrop on Brett if she ever calls him again," said Wendy. "We can use the phone in Linda's room." (Linda was their adult supervisor.)
(Is the word 'adult' really necessary there?)

"Great idea!" cried Beth. "That way we can find out Brett's true feelings for Tammy. If he likes her a lot, we can tell him something really horrible about her. If he just kind of likes her, we'll tell him something not as bad, but bad enough to change his opinion."

"Do you have any ideas of things to tell him?" asked Brenda.

"Not yet," Beth admitted. "But I'm going to think of something."

The next day, Beth got Christina to follow Tammy around a little bit after practice, and see if she went to the get-together room. (Whoever names things at Fruitville needs to be fired. So does whoever named the town.) Sure enough, at precisely six-thirty, Tammy slipped into the little room and shut the door. Christina ran upstairs to Beth's room.

"Tammy's calling! Tammy's calling!" she shrieked.

"She is?!" Beth shot up like a rocket and ran to Linda's room. Luckily, the supervisor wasn't in there. (Some supervisor.) Beth locked the door and very quietly picked up the royal-blue phone.

"... and he goes, 'you were good, but a bit of a troublemaker. But you've come so far since then'," Tammy was saying.

"Mr. Tatum called me the next Cary Grant," Brett laughed.

"Well, we are good. That's why we were chosen," Tammy said.

How stuck-up, thought Beth.

"You're definitely good," Brett said sincerely.

Uh-oh! Compliments! Beth thought uneasily.

"That reminds me," Brett continued. "Do you think Mr. DiBiaz will let you come to my house? My mom wants you to have dinner with us."

Double uh-oh! Beth hung up the phone. She had heard enough already! Brett was inviting Tammy over for dinner. That only meant one thing. He liked her. A lot.

***

Please say yes, please say yes, Tammy prayed, knocking on the door to Mr. DiBiaz's office. Getting to go to Brett's house was what she wanted most in the world right now! (He asked her, what, two minutes ago?) She was so glad that he asked her. It would give her a chance to ask him what she wanted to ask him.

"Don't just stand there, come on in!" an impatient voice yelled.

"Oh, sorry," Tammy muttered, even though Mr. DiBiaz probably couldn't hear her. He was sitting at his desk, lost in a world of play preparation booklets.

"Oh, it's you, Tammy," he said when he finally looked up. "What do you want?"

"Are we allowed to leave the orphanage?" Tammy asked hopefully.

Mr. DiBiaz chuckled. "Well, I'd let you, but you're a little young to be out on your own. Ha! Ha, ha, ha. Ha..." Mr. DiBiaz slapped his knee. Tammy gave him a strange look.

"Oh ... ah, sorry," he murmured. "Just a little orphanage leader's joke. (Okay, faux Mr. Belding.) So why is it you want to leave?"

"Well, I don't want to leave forever. But I was wondering if I could go to Brett's."

Mr. DiBiaz looked shocked. "Tammy!" he gasped. "Of all the... oh. Oh. Heh, heh, heh. I get it now. You're kidding. This play's starting to get to me."

"No, actually I'm not kidding. Brett's mom wants me to come over for dinner. Is that okay?"

"Oh. Dinner. Now I get it." (What did you think, Mr. DiBiaz? They're eleven!) Mr. DiBiaz chuckled. "Well, you know the rules. You are only allowed to leave this building by yourself once in between Adoption Days. But since you have not had your turn yet, I suppose you can go to Brett's. When, dear?"

Tammy shrugged. "I don't know. Tomorrow, I guess."

"Tomorrow is fine. My wife will drive you in ... do you even have directions?"

(How nice of Mr. DiBiaz to volunteer his wife as a chaueffer. He really is a little creepy, isn't he? By the way, since I don't think I still have my story with an "Adoption Day", it was supposed to happen about four times a year; the way it worked was that all of the orphans had to parade around onstage and basically try to sell themselves to a crowd full of prospective parents. The parents would then write down the names of girls they were interested in, and Mr. DiBiaz would read the names out loud ... in front of everyone. Very realistic! Anyway...)

"No, but I'll call Brett right now and get them. Thanks! Bye!" Tammy rushed off. She felt like shouting, Yes! He said yes! But instead she just calmly walked to the get-together room, shut the door, and dialed Brett's number.

Brett answered. "Hello?" he said.

"Hi, Brett, it's Tammy. Guess what! Mr. DiBiaz said yes! Is tomorrow okay?"

"He said yes? Cool! Tomorrow'll probably be okay. Let me ask my mom." Tammy heard a phone drop, and a voice yell, "MOM!" Then there were some muffled voices, and Brett picked up the phone again. "Tammy?"

"I'm still here," she told him.

"Great! My mom said tomorrow's fine. Do you know who's gonna, like, drive you and stuff?"

"Yeah. But we need directions."

"Okay." Brett gave Tammy the directions, and they hung up. Tammy couldn't wait for the next day!

***

It came soon enough. Word had spread about Tammy's "date", but Tammy didn't mind them too much anymore. Brett was all that mattered.

Three hours before Mrs. DiBiaz planned to leave, Tammy decided to get ready. Hmm, she thought, staring into the mirror. I should be dressy, but not too dressy. She ignored her dresses and jeans, and studied her sweaters and cardigans. But there was nothing good enough! For a second, Tammy thought wistfully of Tami, her former best friend. Tami always had something to wear if nothing was "good enough."

"But I'm not even going to consider asking her," Tammy muttered to herself. She studied her clothes some more, and finally decided on loose flowered shorts that looked more like a skirt, a short-sleeved white sweater, white nylons, and white flats. (Yawn.) She tied a white ribbon in her curly hair, fastened on some dangly heart-shaped earrings, and, after some thought, decided to wear the beautiful silver cross necklace that her mother had promised her if anything ever "happened."

Perfect, Tammy thought with satisfaction. I always look wonderful, but now I look perfect.
(I'm glad being an outcast hasn't affected her self-esteem any.)

But now what was she supposed to do? She still had two hours to spare. Tammy decided to practice her lines. She now had them all memorized. She was just starting the scene where Triton was destroying Ariel's "collection" when Beth, Stella, and Tami walked into the room. (Talk about creepy...)

"Get out of here!" Tammy ordered. "This isn't your room."

"Are you all ready for your date?" Stella asked, ignoring her.

"Yes, I am," Tammy replied smugly.

"I guess Brett really likes you, huh?" Beth said sarcastically.

"Yup. He does." Tammy smiled.

"Are you gonna ask him out?" Tami asked in a sugar-sweet voice.

"Maybe. After all, I am the most wonderful person in the world. I can have any guy I want." (Tammy, please stop making me think you deserve whatever's coming to you.)

"Yeah, and then you woke up," Beth muttered. She, Stella, and Tami stalked off.

Jealous, Tammy thought, smirking as she watched them. They're just jealous.

***

"So, Tammy," Mrs. DiBiaz said on the way to Brett's house. "I'll come with you to the door. Then I'll go out shopping. I'll pick you up at about nine, nine-thirty. Clear?"

"Clear," Tammy replied.

"When you get home, the other girls will have just gotten into bed. This is a special night for you, so we'll give you time to get ready for bed. But don't disturb the other girls."

"I won't," Tammy promised.

"Okay. Well, we're right around ... in fact, this may be the house." They were in front of a cute white tri-level house with a neat, manicured front lawn.

"Let me see the mailbox ... yup, it says Jamison! Well, are you coming with me?" Tammy asked.

Mrs. DiBiaz thought for a minute. "No," she finally said. "I'll watch you from here. Have a nice time, sweetie."

"Thanks! Bye, Mrs. DiBiaz!" Tammy jumped out of the van, ran up Brett's porch steps, and rang the doorbell. A pretty blonde-haired lady in plaid shorts and a blouse answered.

"Hello!" she said warmly. "You must be Tammy. Come on in. I'm Brett's mom."

"Hi," Tammy said, stepping inside and looking around. It seemed like forever since she'd last been in a regular house like this. "Um, this is a nice place..." she began.

"Hi, Tammy!" a voice interrupted. Brett appeared in a doorway, bouncing a basketball.

"Brett, you know there's no ball-bouncing in the house. (Brett might break a vase and have to glue it back together.) Now, put that up in your room. Tell your brother dinner's almost ready."

"You have a brother?" Tammy whispered, following Brett up the stairs.

"Yeah, unfortunately." Brett stopped at an open doorway and yelled to a boy lying on a bed inside, "BRANDON! TIME FOR DINNER!" (How not-at-all obnoxious.)

"I can hear you," said Brandon, who looked about two years younger than Brett. "I'm not deaf."

"Then go downstairs. Come on," Brett said to Tammy.

Tammy followed Brett inside his room, grinning and shaking her head. "You guys are so ... normal," she said.

Brett frowned. "We're not normal. He's so ... strange. He collects bugs, for one thing..."

"No, no, no," Tammy interrupted. "You're normal as in family-like."

"Oh, yeah ... you're an orphan, right?"

"You didn't know that?" Tammy asked incredulously.

"I'm just kidding," Brett grinned. "Come on, let's go downstairs. Dinner's almost ready. You like spaghetti?"

"Yup!" Tammy replied.

"Too bad, we're having chicken."

"I don't like chicken," Tammy grinned, following Brett downstairs.

"Oh. Well, I don't know what we're having, really."

"We're having grilled cheese sandwiches," said Mrs. Jamison. "And they're ready right now. Where's Brandon?"

"I don't know. He's coming." And at that moment, Brandon ran down the stairs.

"Here I am," he said.

"Okay, good. You three kids can sit down. I'll be right in there."

"Where's your dad?" Tammy whispered to Brett as they walked into the dining room. (MYOB, Tammy.)

"Didn't I tell you?" Brett replied, looking confused.

"No," Tammy said, sitting down between the two boys at the table.

"Oh. Well, my dad died right after Brandon was born."

"He did?" Tammy said, feeling stupid. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay. I don't even remember him. It's probably better that he died when I was two than if he'd died when I was eleven, like your parents."

Tammy couldn't think of anything to say to that. Luckily, Mrs. Jamison came into the dining room then and began to dish out grilled cheese sandwiches and vegetable soup. Then she turned on some music and the four of them started to eat their dinner.

"So, Tammy," Mrs. Jamison said, taking a sip of her cola. "Tell me about yourself."

"Um..." What was there to tell? (What?! This from the self-proclaimed 'most wonderful person in the world'?)

"How do you like the orphanage?"

"It's pretty good," Tammy replied. "The grown-ups there are really nice."

"How about the girls?"

"They're okay," Tammy mumbled.

"How did you feel when your parents died?" (WTF? Can she be any more tacky?)

"My mom's a counselor," Brett whispered in Tammy's ear.

Tammy smiled. "I was disappointed," she told Mrs. Jamison. "And sad, of course. And also a little overwhelmed, since they died so suddenly."

Mrs. Jamison nodded knowingly. "I know the feeling. When Brian was shot (?!), I couldn't even take it."

"Mom," Brett said. "Maybe Tammy wants to talk about something else besides death."

"Oh, right." Mrs. Jamison laughed an embarrassed laugh. "Sometimes I get carried away with my questions. So, how do you like being the lead in the play?"

"It's great!" Tammy replied enthusiastically. "It's really cool. I know all my lines."

"Brett could learn a thing or two from you. He hasn't learned all of his yet."

"I will," Brett said, sounding annoyed.

During the dinner, Brandon had just been eating his sandwich and staring at Tammy lovingly. All of a sudden, he burst out with, "You're cute!" (Oh, ugh.)

"Thanks," Tammy giggled.

"Brandon," Mrs. Jamison and Brett said in unison.

"Sorry," Brandon murmured.

"It's okay," Tammy told him.

After that, they talked about the play and a few other things. When they were done with their dinner, Mrs. Jamison served everyone a piece of delicious homemade cheesecake. Then Brett told Tammy to come to his room.

"Your mom's nice," said Tammy, sitting down on his bed.

"Yeah. She likes you, too. I could tell. So does my brother," Brett added dryly.

Tammy laughed. "So ... do you want to practice some lines or something? Mrs. DiBiaz has another two hours."

"Nah. I'm sick of practicing lines. Let's talk."

Tammy grinned slyly. "About what?"

"Hmm..." Brett pretended to be thinking seriously. "Taxes? Politics?" (Oh, aren't they cute. Gag.)

"No," Tammy replied. "I don't think so!"

"Tammy," Brett said, suddenly sounding very serious. "Can I ask you something?"

Tammy shrugged. "Sure. What is it?"

"Well ... promise you won't take this personally, or be insulted."

"I won't. What is it, Brett?"

"How come ... how come no one at the orphanage likes you? Did you do something to make them mad, or what? 'Cause you seem like you'd be popular..."

"Oh, that." Tammy fiddled with her necklace. "I guess I did something to make them mad. I don't know what it was. I usually have a lot of friends. But when I got the part of Ariel, Beth -- you know, the one with the black hair that looks sorta greasy (lovely) -- got really mad, and turned everyone against me."

"Oh." Brett looked relieved. "I thought you committed some crime, or something. That's pretty rude of them, though. They're mad at you just 'cause you got the lead role?"

"I guess so," Tammy replied.

"That must be pretty tough," Brett said sympathetically. "Having all those people mad at you."

"Well, it was at first. They kept trying to get me in trouble so I'd lose my part. But now ..." Tammy smiled at Brett.

"Brett," she said. "I have a question to ask you."

"Don't ask," he replied softly. "I know what it is."

"You do?"

"Yes. And the answer is ... yes!"

"Yes?" Tammy echoed. "Yes, you'll go out with me?"

"Yes, I'll go out with you!" (Ah, eleven-year-old love.)

"You're not just doing this 'cause you feel sorry for me or anything, are you?"

"Now, why would I do that?" Brett asked. "I'm going out with you because I like you. I was thinking of asking you out before, but I had to make sure you weren't a criminal."

Tammy laughed. "I'm definitely not a criminal."

"I know that," Brett told her. "I never really thought you were one. Well, what do you want to do now? You've still got plenty of time left."

"Let's go bungee jumping," Tammy grinned.

"Sorry, I'm not allowed. You want to do something adventurous, though? Let's go water-skiing out on the lake."

"Water-skiing? I'd either fall off my skis or drown!"

"Okay, then. Let's play Go-Fish. I am absolutely the greatest Go-Fish player in the world. No one has ever beaten me."

"Well, then," Tammy said. "I guess that means you've never played against me. I'm a pretty hot Go-Fish player myself."

"Do you want to take a chance against me, the Go-Fish champion?"

"I think I'll take that risk," Tammy replied dramatically. (Excuse me while I go clean up my vomit.)

"Okay. But you're making a big mistake." Brett found a deck of cards and dealt them out. He and Tammy played five Go-Fish games in a row. Brett won three, Tammy won two.

"Well," Tammy said, sighing and shaking her head. "I've met my match. I'm no longer the greatest Go-Fish player in the world." (You didn't even say you were, stupid, Brett did. Get your own cheesy line.)

"Oh, I think you are," Brett reassured her, grinning. "I just had a lucky day. So, what do you want to do now? You've got about half an hour."

Tammy stretched out on Brett's bed. "Do you have any music?"

"Music? Sure. I've got everything from AC/DC to Hammer (ha!) to the Beach Boys. Who do you like?"

"Hmm," Tammy thought out loud. "I think I want to listen to a love song."

"Love songs? I have lots of 'em. My tapes are all in that cupboard. Pick whatever you want to listen to."

"Okay!" Tammy dug around in Brett's tape collection and found a single, "You're the Inspiration." (Which was released about nine years before I wrote this, so why Brett has a cassette single of it is beyond me. Maybe he inherited it from Mommy.)

"I want to hear this," she said. "I love this song."

"Great." Brett popped the tape in. "You know," he said. "I'm a big Chicago fan myself. I know they're a little old, but..."

"They make the best slow songs," Tammy agreed. "Hey, what else do we have in common?"

"Well. We're both good actors. And champion Go-Fish players. What's your favorite color, Tammy?"

"Blue," Tammy answered promptly.

"Really? Mine, too! How 'bout your favorite food?"

"What else?" Tammy grinned. "Pizza!"

"What do you know? Pizza's my favorite, too. What's your favorite sport?"

"I," Tammy declared, "am one of the few girls who loves football." (For the record, I know plenty of girls who like it.)

"Wrong!" Brett cried. "Sorry. Mine's basketball."

"Are you a good basketball player?" Tammy asked him.

"I'm better at basketball than I am at soccer."

"TAMMY!" a loud voice suddenly yelled. "MRS. DIBIAZ IS HERE!"

"Oh," Tammy groaned. "She's early."

"I'll go with you to the door," Brett said. The two of them walked downstairs to the living room, where Mrs. Jamison and Mrs. DiBiaz were sitting and talking.

"Oh," Mrs. DiBaz smiled. "There you are. Well, we'd best get going. Goodbye, Brett. Goodbye, Nancy. It was nice meeting you."

"It really was," Tammy told Mrs. Jamison. "Bye. Tell Brandon I said bye, too." She turned to Brett and said softly, "I had a really nice time tonight."

"So'd I," Brett replied. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"I will," Tammy promised. She and Brett said their goodbyes.

"Did you have a good time?" Mrs. DiBiaz asked when they were back in the van.

"I had a great time," Tammy replied. But even a 'great time' is an understatement, she thought. This had to have been the best night she'd had since before her parents died. (A tear rolls down my cheek as I type this.)

Chapter Eleven

The next morning at breakfast, Beth collected her tray and was about to sit down at her usual table when she noticed Tammy sitting by herself, looking dreamy. Oh yeah, Beth thought. She had her little "date" last night. Beth decided to sit by Tammy and bug her.

"Hi," she said snidely, dropping her tray on the table with a loud clank.

"Hello," Tammy replied casually. She sighed happily. "Boy, it's nice having a boyfriend. You probably wish you had one."

"If I did have a boyfriend," Beth retorted, "I bet he wouldn't be the only person in the whole world who liked me."

"I'd rather have Brett like me than you."

"So? And besides," Beth added, "Brett's not your boyfriend. It's not like you're going out or anything."

"Yes, we are," Tammy smiled.

"You ... are?" Beth asked with a sinking feeling.

"Yup! Kinda makes you a little jealous, huh?"

"Oh, shut up," Beth muttered. She stormed off to her own table and announced solemnly, "They're going out."

"They are?!" Stella groaned.

"She has a boyfriend and I don't?" Tami practically screeched.

"I'm afraid so," Beth nodded. "There's one advantage, though."

"What?" Tami grumbled.

"Now we can think of something really terrible to tell Brett."

***

"We can ... tell him she ... was homeless before she came here," Wendy suggested later, when they had all gathered in Beth's room. (OMG, that's even worse than being a criminal, or a guy in disguise!)

Beth shook her head. "Uh-uh. It won't work."

"How 'bout if we say that she's ... desperate!" giggled Tami.

"Maybe..."

"I've got it!" Stella cried, snapping her fingers. "Okay. We'll tell Brett that I had a crush on him. Then we can say that since Tammy doesn't like me, she decided to go after Brett ... and that's why she was coming on so strong. But she doesn't really like him at all! She was just desperate to have a boyfriend, and she wanted to go against me. Then we can say she threatened me ... she said that if I went after Brett, she'd do something really terrible."

"That just might work!" Beth exclaimed. "He'll think she's some kind of maniac. We can even use Wendy's idea in that. We can say she lived on the streets, and it turned her kind of crazy. Hey, I think we've got a good plan here!" (I don't.)

"But we need some evidence," Janine pointed out.

"Evidence? You're right. We do need evidence. Well..."

"Let's not tell him until Friday's practice," said Christina.

"Yeah," Beth agreed. "And on Monday and Wednesday, we'll really bug Tammy, so she'll snap at us and make herself look moody."

"Cool!" cried Stella. "So is this definitely what we're going to do?"

"I think it'll work," Beth replied. "Do you?"

"Oh, yeah," Stella said.

"Definitely," grinned Tami.

"I think it will!" said Janine.

"Me, too," said Christina.

"Me, too," agreed Wendy. "But who's going to tell Brett all this?"

Everybody looked at Beth.

"Oh, okay. I'll do it. I'm the one who decided on the plan."

***

The next day, at practice, all of the orphans were watching Tammy like a hawk. And they all saw her practically skip over to Brett and grab his hand. Beth and Stella casually followed her.

"Hi," Brett said to Beth and Stella.

Tammy groaned. "What do you want?"

Beth pretended to look hurt. "We just wanted to say hi to you guys. I haven't met Brett yet. I'm Beth Harris."

"Hi," Brett said again. "Nice to meet you." He turned to Stella. "What's your name?"

Stella paused. She had to pretend to be nervous, it was part of the plan. "I'm Stella," she finally mumbled.

"Oh. You guys want to practice with us? We could use some other..."

"Bre-ett," Tammy interrupted.

"We could use some others, Tammy. It gets so confusing doing those other parts with just the two of us. So, do you?"

"Sure," Beth replied. "If it's okay with Tammy."

"I don't mind, if ... if she doesn't," Stella murmured quietly.

Tammy gave an annoyed sigh. "I guess it's okay." They started to practice. Tammy was expecting Beth or Stella to try to mess her up or something, but surprisingly they were nice and agreeable. It didn't fool Tammy, though. Something was up. But what?

"You guys can quit pretending to be my friends," she said.

Beth looked confused. "We're not your friends?"

Tammy rolled her eyes. "Some friends. You..."

"Did I do something to offend you? I'm sorry."

"You are really weird," Tammy began.

Beth looked crushed. "Huh?"

"Tammy, what's wrong? They're just being nice," said Brett. "Now, let's practice. We've only got about five minutes."

Beth grinned at Stella. Brett defended them! Their plan was working beautifully already.

After the official practice, Tammy walked over to Brett again. "Don't be fooled by their act," she told him. "I don't know what they're trying to do."

"They seem okay," Brett replied.

"You don't see them everyday."

Brett just shrugged. "Well, maybe you're right. I'm gonna go out to my bus now. Bye."

"But your bus doesn't leave for another five minutes!" Tammy exclaimed.

"I need time to get out to it," Brett chuckled.

"But we barely saw each other at all!"

"I'm sorry," Brett said. "It's Mr. DiBiaz's fault."

"Can I call you?"

"Of course! I really do have to go, though. You can call me in about thirty minutes if you want. I'll probably be home by then."

"Okay!" Tammy brightened. Thirty minutes was barely any time at all.

"See you Wednesday?"

"Definitely," Tammy replied. "Bye." She watched Brett go over to some other Madison boy. When he was safely out of sight, she walked over to Beth, Stella, and Tami.

"What was that all about?" she demanded.

"Why, what was what all about?" Beth said sweetly.

"That stupid nice act!" Tammy exploded.

"It wasn't an act," Stella replied innocently.

"Yeah," Tami joined in. "We like you now. We admire you. We think you're the best thing in this whole world. Why, comparing you to us would be like comparing pizza to sauerkraut. Like comparing a diamond to a pebble! Like..."

"Shut up," Tammy interrupted disgustedly. "From now on, I want ALL of you to leave Brett and me alone!"

Stella pretended to look crushed. "You don't want us to hang around with you anymore?"

"NO!!! I don't..."

"What is the meaning of this?" Mr. DiBiaz demanded, walking over to the four girls. "Why are you yelling, Tammy?"

"We don't know, Mr. DiBiaz," Beth replied. "We were just talking to her, and she got mad at us."

"I can answer myself, thank you," Tammy said dryly.

Mr. DiBiaz tapped his foot. "Did you really start yelling at them just because you were mad, Tammy?"

"Yes," Tammy began. "But..."

"No buts. No buts. At Fruitville, we control our temper. We do not shout. (Look who's talking, Yelly McYellerson!) If I see any of this again, you will be back in time-out." Mr. DiBiaz gave Tammy a warning look and walked off. Smirking, Beth, Stella, and Tami followed him.

I don't care, Tammy said to herself. They're just trying to get me in trouble again. Well, I won't let them. She walked downstairs to the get-together room to wait until it was time to call Brett.

***

On Tuesday, Tammy called Brett about six times. (Stalker.) Three of the times, Beth walked right into the room and listened. When Tammy told her to leave, Beth just said, "This is the get-together room. Anyone can be in here." Beth made sure to annoy Tammy throughout each of her phone calls.

The next day, Tammy walked over to Brett and declared, "I have just about HAD it with this orphanage!"

"What's wrong?" Brett asked.

"I don't know! Every time I talk to you on the phone, Beth's in there bugging me. She acts like she's my best friend or something, but she's so fake. And I don't know what Stella's trying to do. She acts like she's scared of me or something."

"Why would she act like that?" Brett wondered.

"I have no idea! Anyway, who cares about them? Let's ... oh, no, here they come now."

"Hi, Brett. Hi, Tammy," Beth said casually.

"Hi," Brett replied.

"What are you doing?" Beth asked, sitting down next to Tammy.

"What does it look like?" Tammy snapped back.

Stella got a frightened look on her face. "Um ... um," she said quickly. "I think I'll go practice with Deena."

"Why?" Tammy rolled her eyes. "Will I beat you up?"

Stella bit her lip. "No."

"Maybe we should go practice with someone else," said Beth. "Bye, you guys."

"They are so weird," Tammy said after they had left.

"I don't understand." Brett looked confused. "They seem perfectly nice to me. Why are you..."

"You don't think I'm lying, do you?" Tammy interrupted quickly.

"Oh, no. Definitely not. Never mind them."

Brett tried to sound like he meant what he said. But inside, he was confused. Had Tammy lied to him? When Tammy was by herself, she was just fine, but when Beth and Stella were around, Tammy was the one who acted rude, and Beth and Stella were perfectly nice! Did Tammy do something to Stella? Why did Stella act so scared around Tammy?

It's nothing, Brett told himself firmly. I know Tammy too well for that. She just doesn't like being around them because they turned everyone against her.

Brett tried to reassure himself that this was true. But inside, he was beginning to have second thoughts about having Tammy as a girlfriend.

*************************************************************************
Coming up: the play isn't the only drama around Fruitville! Beth talks to Brett (and shows him forged entries from Tammy's diary) and Brett responds accordingly!

Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Four

2008-12-03T02:07:00.000-08:00

I'm in a posting mood. Here are THREE chapters for your reading ... enjoyment? (Is that the right word?)

Later on, I'll post Chapter Twelve by itself, but it's so very dramatic that it deserves its own entry! For now, read on -- if nothing else, just to see how many times I can use the words "grinned" and "snickered" and "hissed" in the same post.

Chapter Seven

Right before practice started, Tammy went down to her room and realized that it was still a dump. Well, she thought, I guess the first step to becoming the best Ariel possible is to get back on Mr. DiBiaz and Trisha's good sides. So Tammy was going to do something she very rarely did ... work. (What, is she "too pretty" to do it the rest of the time?) She was going to clean up her room.

Janine and Christina had remade their beds, and Christina had picked up her jewelry (can't leave those prized earrings lying around), so Tammy didn't have to worry about those. She started with the clothes. Tammy hung up all of the sweaters and blouses and dresses. She even neatly organized them by color. Then she folded the sweatshirts, T-shirts, and jeans, and placed them in the dresser drawers.

(Yuck, the clothes have been just sitting there on the floor for a day now, not to mention Tammy's grubby hands were all over them. Wash them!)

"Next," she muttered. "Personal belongings." Tammy organized all of her roommates' books and stationery. She straightened their makeup and fixed their posters on the wall. She even straightened up her own belongings, vacuumed, and dusted. The room couldn't have looked any better. So it was on to Trisha's.

Tammy knocked on the supervisor's door, feeling a little scared. She was answered by a cheerful, "Who is it?"

Tammy took a deep breath and replied, "It's me. Tammy."

The door opened, and Trisha stood over Tammy, frowning. "You!" Trisha snarled. "What'd you come for? To sass some more?"

"No," Tammy replied calmly. "I've come to apologize."

"Apologize?" Trisha's face softened.

"Yes. I'm really sorry about how I yelled at you yesterday. I won't do it again. I even cleaned up my room." (I thought she was ordered to clean it up, anyway.)

"You did? Oh, Tammy, how sweet! Thank you so much! I didn't expect you to apologize."

"Yeah, well ... I'm sorry."

"Oh, I forgive you! But, dear, hasn't practice started? You'd better run along!"

"Practice! Oh, yeah! Bye, Trisha!" Feeling like an idiot, Tammy dashed downstairs. She couldn't believe she had forgotten practice! How was she supposed to make a good Ariel if she didn't even remember the rehearsals?

Oh, well, she decided. At least I have a good excuse.

Meg and Stella were onstage. Stella was filling in for her! "Excellent job, Stella," Mr. DiBiaz was saying. "Wonderful. Magnificent. You should..."

"I'm here!" Tammy interrupted before he could say anything else.

The orphans turned around and groaned.

"Tammy," Mr. DiBiaz scolded. "Why are you late?"

"I was cleaning my room," Tammy replied, grinning. "Sorry."

"Cleaning your room? Oh, good, good. It's okay, then. Just don't be late again. Now go on up there."

Stella gave Tammy a look that could have killed Freddy Crougar (that's how I spelled it in my notebook) as Tammy bounced on upstage. "I was hoping you'd run away or something," she hissed. "You're always ... around. Bugging me!"

"I know," Tammy grinned. "It's fun."

"ANY TIME NOW, GIRLS!" Mr. DiBiaz boomed.

"Yes, Mr. DiBiaz," Tammy said quickly. "Okay ... where are we?"

Nobody answered.

Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "Start where you enter with Meg, about to enter that ship."

"Okay. Cool." Tammy took a deep breath and began belting out lines. She was clear, strong, and believable. Meg, who had been giving an outstanding performance before Tammy showed up, was still good, but was now having a little trouble following along. (I'm not very up on my theater lingo, but it sounds like Tammy is overacting or "upstaging" Meg or doing something else not-quite-right. Or maybe Meg just sucks.)

However, when the scene was done, Mr. DiBiaz was positively beaming. "Wonderful, girls!" he cried. "Simply wonderful! That was the best I've seen so far! Tammy, you are a true actress."

"Thanks!" Tammy smiled.

"Meg, you were terrific, too, but you need to work on your lines. Well, we'd best move on. Triton? Oh, Triton is a boy, of course. So is Sebastian ... so, Tammy and Meg, stay onstage, and we need fill-ins for Triton and Sebastian. Volunteers?"

"I will! I will!" Beth cried, jumping up and down and waving her arm.

"Okay, Beth. You will be Triton, and Sebastian ... I think Erin can fill in for him."

"Fine," Erin said. She and Beth walked onstage. "Do you have a plan or something?" Erin whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Yes," Beth whispered back. "You'll see."

Beth, or "Triton", had the first line. She and Erin ("Sebastian") (we know ... Mr. DiBiaz just told us) exchanged some more lines, normally and regularly. Then Tammy came in. She said her line normally. Beth was supposed to say something angrily back to Tammy. But instead she said cheerfully in gibberish, "Oonsta quail packton?"

"Huh?" Tammy replied. Oh, she realized. She's trying to confuse me! Well, I won't let her.

Tammy read her line from the script, as if Beth had read hers. Then Meg had a line. She said it in gibberish. Tammy said her line back normally. This went on for awhile -- Beth, Meg, and Erin reading in some strange language, and Tammy acting as if there was nothing wrong. (Isn't she professional.) Finally, Mr. DiBiaz cried impatiently, "Beth Harris, Erin Wells, Meg Billman ... what in the world are you three saying?! READ THE WRITTEN LINES! Tammy, good job. Now, you four, go on, and SPEAK ENGLISH!!!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" Tammy smirked.

"Shut up," Beth muttered back.

***

Beth was sitting on her bed, thinking of ways to ruin the play for Tammy. But it was getting harder.

"You know," she said to Wendy, who was on the bunk above her doing schoolwork. "It was working. I swear it was. But today..."

"I know," Wendy replied. "I hate to admit it, but she really is good."

Beth sighed. Tammy was good. Beth would never admit it to anybody, but the reason she disliked Tammy so much -- or one of the reasons -- was because she was so good. And not just at acting. Tammy was so pretty, by far the prettiest girl at the orphanage. She was also confident, multi-talented, and always seemed to be in a good mood. (Beth so secretly loves Tammy.) Plus, when she arrived at the orphanage, almost everyone had taken a liking to her. And during the few activities the orphans had with boys, the boys always seemed to be attracted to Tammy. Tammy was one of those girls who was instantly popular wherever she went, and Beth had to try hard to become even sort of popular.

It just isn't fair, Beth thought, frowning. Tammy has everything. It's about time someone else had something!

Chapter Eight

The next day, right before rehearsal, Tammy decided to really introduce herself to Brett while she had the chance. She found him in a corner, studying his lines.

"Um..." Tammy cleared her throat, feeling stupid.

Brett looked up. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Tammy replied. "I'm Tammy Morris. You probably know that, but we haven't really gotten a chance to talk to each other."

Brett grinned. "We should, shouldn't we? We're the two main characters, and we don't even know each other." (You auditioned all of three days ago.)

"Yeah, well, with the people here, that's kinda hard," Tammy said, sitting down. "How many of your lines do you know?"

Brett shrugged. "Actually, not that much. I've been really busy lately. I have soccer practice almost every day. I'll probably quit that soon. But it's that time of the year where my school's doing all these things, and every time I sit down to practice, someone starts talking to me. (What? Make sense, Brett.) Not that I mind that you're doing it," Brett added quickly.

"Am I bugging you? I'll go somewhere else..."

"No, it's okay," Brett interrupted. "Stay here. We need to go over some of our lines together."

"Oh, okay. Where do you want to start?"

"Um..." Brett flipped through his script. "We really don't have that many lines together, since you don't talk and all. So I guess we can start on the ship, when you first do talk."

"Great." Tammy found the page, and she and Brett exchanged a few lines, filling in for Ursula and the other characters. Then the actual practice started. Tammy was surprised to find that she was a little disappointed that she and Brett had to stop. Brett was definitely cute, but he was also really nice, and he actually seemed to appreciate her, unlike Beth and all those other stupid orphans.

"I saw you flirting," Beth hissed when Tammy was down in the audience, waiting for her turn.

"I wasn't flirting," Tammy replied. "I was just talking."

"Yeah, right. Just talking," Beth grumbled. She ws interrupted by a loud, "CUT! SAY THE RIGHT LINES!" so she stopped talking to Tammy and started to think of some more ways to ruin the play for her. It was hard, though. That Brett guy had been talking to Tammy, and it seemed like he liked her.

Another thing she has, Beth thought sullenly. I'll have to ruin that, too.

"BETH! BETH HARRIS!" Mr. DiBiaz boomed. Some orphans and boys snickered, Tammy the loudest.

"What, Mr. DiBiaz?" Beth asked quickly, shooting Tammy a dirty look.

"You need to fill in for Scuttle. Brandon Douglas isn't here."

"Why me?" Beth wondered.

"Because you did such a good job filling in for the parts yesterday ... that is, when you were speaking English."

"Oh," Beth muttered. Great, she thought. Now he thinks I'm some fill-in queen. Well, that's Tammy's fault, too!

"BETH! WE'RE WAITING!"

Beth stepped upstage, then realized something. "How can we be doing Scuttle's part if Meg and Ariel aren't onstage?" (I love how she can't even say Tammy's name.)

Mr. DiBiaz sighed impatiently and shouted, "BECAUSE, IF YOU'D BEEN LISTENING, YOU'D KNOW THAT WE'RE GOING OVER EACH PART INDIVIDUALLY!"

"Then why don't we just skip Scuttle?" (She has a point...)

"ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HARD TIME?!!"

"No." Down in the audience, Beth could see Tammy laughing. I am going to get her for this, Beth thought, her cheeks burning.

After she read Scuttle's part, Beth sat back down, next to Stella. "Did you hear her?" she hissed in Stella's ear.

"Yeah," Stella nodded sympathetically.

"I have to get back at her. I can't believe she laughed at me like that!"

"What are you going to do?" Wendy asked excitedly, overhearing.

"I don't know," Beth admitted. "But it's going to be something good."

***

After the practice, Tammy walked over to Brett. "Jeez, your orphanage leader's mean," he greeted her.

"Mr. DiBiaz? He's not that bad. He's just a strict director."

"Yeah, well, the way he yells, you'd think he wants to make us all deaf. He didn't yell at you, though. You do really good on your part."

"I do?" Tammy smiled, pleased.

"Yeah. You're definitely the best one here."

Tammy sighed. "That's not what everyone else here thinks."

"Are you kidding? Brandon and Scott and them think you're great. Ms. Fairsburg even said you should join our drama club." (Oh, yeah, those boys have a drama teacher. Why isn't she directing this masterpiece?)

"She did? Well, it's the people at the orphanage..."

"Oh. I think you're good. I've gotta go now, though. Our buses are leaving. Sorry."

"It's okay. Can we, like, go over our lines some more on Monday?"

"Sure! Bye, Tammy."

"Bye!" Tammy watched Brett leave. She felt like she was floating on air. Here was someone who finally wasn't mad at her. It was a cute guy, too! And Brett was so nice. He treated her like a friend, and not like a conceited snob who only thought of herself.

(Gee, I wonder why people treat you like that, Ms. I-love-looking-at-myself-in-the-mirror?)

Tammy realized she would have to wait four more days to see Brett again. But just thinking about him would be good enough. She had been unhappy since Tuesday morning, until she met him. Brett liked her, too! It felt like a good dream. And hopefully, Tammy thought. I'll never wake up!

***

Brett Jamison climbed onto the bus and sat down next to his best friend, Kevin Sumner. He was feeling dazed. That Tammy girl -- she was nicer than he thought she'd be! She was cute, too. Brett was surprised to find that he actually couldn't wait to see her again.

"Why were you hitting on Ariel?" Kevin asked him.

"I wasn't hitting on her. She came up to me first." Brett rolled his eyes. "Besides, we were just talking."

"Talking? Mmm-hmm," Kevin said jokingly. "Brett's in love," he added, punching Brett's arm.

Brett snickered. He hated it when people did stupid stuff like that.

"She is cute, though," Kevin said. "Seriously. She's probably the best-looking one there."

"I know," Brett replied irritably. He didn't want to talk about Tammy. He wanted to think about her. It was strange. Usually Brett couldn't stand it when, like in TV shows, people acted like they weren't sure if they liked someone and it was a big mystery. But Brett wasn't sure if he liked Tammy that way or not. Sure, she was pretty, and nice, and easy to talk to. But she was also kind of mysterious. How come no one at the orphanage liked her? Was she some sort of criminal? Brett made a mental note to find out more about her.

(Whatever. Like he wouldn't just care about her "hot" looks.)

All of a sudden, Sam, the bus driver who tried to be cool, shouted, "Did any one of you studmuffins meet any fine babes?"

"Brett did!" Kevin shouted back.

"Shut up, Kevin," Brett muttered. But it was too late. Practically the whole bus whirled around and started crying immature things like, "Ooh!" "It's Ariel! He likes Ariel!" "What's she like, Brett?" "Are you two going out?"

"No, we're not going out," Brett replied angrily. Jeez! You couldn't even talk to a girl at his school without being bombarded with dumb, annoying questions.

Courtney (a boy!) Cromwell, a geek that was sitting in front of Brett, turned around and grinned at Brett, showing silver braces. Brett tried to ignore him, but Courtney kept grinning, so finally Brett snapped, "What do you want?"

Courtney just sat there, grinning. Finally, he squealed quickly, "Brett's got a girlfriend!" Him (sic) and his best friend Sammy Aarons burst into giggles.

"She's not my girlfriend," Brett muttered. They were just friends. Weren't they?

***

Tammy got through Friday, Saturday, and Sunday alright, although she didn't think she would. The orphans' immature cracks about her and Brett didn't faze her. They just made her more eager to see him!

"Are you going to flirt some more today?" Christina asked when they were getting dressed on Monday morning.

Tammy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. If I feel like it."

"How come you're not moping around and messing up people's rooms?" asked Janine.

"Because," Christina answered. "She thinks she has a boyfriend now. He doesn't like you, Tammy."

"Then how come he was talking to me?" Tammy retorted.

"He was just trying to be nice," Christina shot back.

Tammy just smiled. Brett liked her. It was only obvious. And as long as Brett liked her, it didn't matter what anyone at the orphanage thought.

Chapter Nine

During the school day, though, Tammy realized something. What if Brett was just trying to be nice? After all, Tammy had made the first move. Brett hadn't come over to her. (Aw, like any conceited person worth her salt, Tammy is secretly insecure.) So Tammy decided to make sure. Before practice started, she sat down casually in a corner of the stage, pretending to study her lines.

Uh-oh, she thought after a few minutes. He's not coming over!

So she had been just imagining it. Tammy sighed. What else could go wrong?

Calm down, she told herself. Maybe he's shy or something. Or maybe he's talking to someone about something important.

That was it. He had to tell someone something important.

Tammy went back to her lines. Sure enough, after a minute or two, she saw Brett start to walk toward her. Happily, Tammy put her script down.

"Hi!" she cried.

"Hi," Brett replied. "Uh ... how come you're all by yourself?"

Oh, no, Tammy thought anxiously. He probably thinks I'm some loner!
(Heaven forbid!)

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "It's easier to study by myself, I guess."

Brett looked relieved. "I agree. But does that mean you don't want to practice with me?"

"Yes, I do!" Tammy exclaimed. "Studying with one other person is easy, too."

Brett grinned. "Okay. Let's start where we started before."

After Brett and Tammy practiced, and the regular rehearsal was over, they sat around and talked some more. Then Brett left, and once again, Tammy felt happier than she had in days. Brett was the perfect Erik! And becoming the perfect Ariel was going to be no problem for Tammy, with the perfect Erik.

On Tuesday, Tammy spent the whole day doodling Brett's name all over everywhere. It had been a whole week, and every single orphan was still mad at her. But they didn't matter anymore.

Wednesday came pretty fast. Tammy daydreamed through all her classes -- about Brett, and what a good team they were going to make. After school, she practically ran to the auditorium. There was Brett, and he went over to her right away! He liked her! Thursday and Friday went pretty much the same as Tuesday and Wednesday. Tammy was starting to like Brett more and more. The orphans could be invisible, for all she cared!

But Beth Harris was not feeling the same way. On Saturday, she called Tammy's worst enemies -- Stella, Wendy, Tami, Janine, and Christina -- into her room. (Isn't it Wendy's room, too?)

"What's this all about?" Stella asked, plopping down on Brenda's bottom bunk and fingering an eyeless teddy bear.

(What a weird sentence. I hate the word "plop.")

"Tammy," Beth replied grimly.

"Her?" Tami snickered. "I forgot all about her. Thanks a lot for reminding me!"

"Well, I'm sorry. But have you noticed her lately?"

"You mean her and Brett," corrected Wendy.

"Tammy and Brett. Exactly."

"She thinks he likes her," said Christina. She paused. "Does he?"

"I'm not sure," Beth admitted. "But she sure likes him."

"I saw her scribbling his name all over her dumb assignment," snickered Stella.

"And she is such a flirt," Tami added. "Has anyone noticed that she always makes the first move?"

Looking satisfied, Beth nodded. "I have."

"He does seem to like her, though," Wendy said slowly. "He talks to her."

"Maybe he's just being polite," spoke up Janine.

"Possibly," said Beth. "But there's also a possibility that he might like her. So," she continued, "I need to come up with another plan."

"That petition?" Stella suggested.

Beth shook her head. "No, I've given up on that. I'm thinking more in terms of something to do with Brett and Tammy."

"Cool!" Wendy cried. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I don't know. That's why I have you guys in here. I need your help."

"Our help?" Janine asked skeptically. "Why?"

"Because we're the ones who hate Tammy the most!"

"But Christina and I share a brain!" Janine cried seriously. (Okay, what the f*ck?)

Beth snickered. "Do you want her to be the star of the play and brag even more, or not?"

"Not!" Janine replied emphatically.

"Okay. Then I need your help. Are the rest of you in on it?"

"Yeah," the four girls replied in unison.

"Okay. Good. So we need to think of a plan."

The six orphans sat in silence for a few minutes, deep in thought. Finally, Wendy suggested, "Ruin her costume in front of him?"

Beth shook her head. "Nah. It has to be really bad, because it has to embarrass her, and conceited snobs don't get embarrassed very easily."

Tami snickered. "We can cut all her hair off."

Beth grinned. "Good idea, but we'd probably get in trouble."

"Hmm," thought Stella out loud. "We can ... we can tell him ..."

"Tell him she's a murderer!" cried Christina.

Janine, Stella, Tami, and Wendy laughed. But Beth looked serious.

"Not bad," she said slowly. "Not bad at all."

"I'm so sure. What would she be doing at an orphanage?" Stella asked.

Beth rolled her eyes. "We're not really going to tell him she murdered someone. He'd never believe that. But we can tell him something..."

"What? What?" the others cried.

"I don't know! I need your help. It has to be really bad, you guys."

The girls thought some more. "Tell him she's a psychopath?" giggled Janine.

"That wouldn't embarrass her. She's just say 'how immature' or something and start flirting some more."

The six orphans sat in silence. "We're never going to think of anything!" Wendy cried in an exasperated voice.

"Yes, we will," Beth argued. "And it's going to be terrible."

"She won't commit suicide or anything, will she?" Tami asked worriedly. (!)

Beth snorted. "Her? She's too snobby to end her own life."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Stella shrieked, "I've got it!"

"You do?" Beth cried eagerly.

"Yeah! Why don't we tell him she's..." (Stella lowered her voice to a whisper) "... under a terrible spell, and is really a guy in disguise?"

"Sick!" everyone screeched, giggling.

"Don't giggle!" Beth practically yelled back. "If we don't want Tammy to be in the play, then we have to come up with the perfect plan to humiliate her. This is serious. Now let's get ... to ... work!"

(Oh, are these girls lame. And speaking of serious, Beth has some serious issues...)

***

On Monday, Tammy memorized about ten more lines. Then she walked up to Mr. DiBiaz's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" he shouted. Tammy did.

Mr. DiBiaz was sitting at his desk, flipping through a catalogue. He looked up and cried, "Tammy! You're just who I've been looking for!"

"I am?" Tammy asked, surprised.

"Yes! See this? It's our costume catalogue! I want you to come choose a costume."

Tammy shrugged, walked over to Mr. DiBiaz, and peered over his shoulder. The page was full of costumes that all basically looked the same. They all had green "fin" bottoms and purple tops, but the greens and the purples were in different shades.

"I don't know," Tammy said after looking at them for a few minutes. "Besides, don't we have costume designers?"

Mr. DiBiaz rolled his eyes. "Yes, but they need a pattern. Which one?" (Why not let the costume designers pick? Though I'm not sure why they have costume designers to begin with, being that later in this story, the costumes are delivered in a box.)

"That one," Tammy decided, pointing to the costume closest to Ariel's in the movie The Little Mermaid.

"Okay! Great!" Mr. DiBiaz excitedly marked a fat black check mark next to the costume. "So ... what was it you came in here for?"

"Oh ...um ... Mr. DiBiaz?"

"What?" he replied impatiently.

"Do you have those boys' phone numbers?"

Mr. DiBiaz glanced at Tammy suspiciously. "Yes, I do. Why?"

"Well..." Tammy fiddled with the beads on her jacket. Mr. DiBiaz was very strict when it came to things like this. Finally, she just blurted out, "Can I have Brett's?"

"Brett? Brett Jamison's number? Why?" he pressed.

"Well, he's Erik, and I'm Ariel, and we kinda should study ... shouldn't we?"

Mr. DiBiaz's face broke out into a smile. "Of course you should. I was afraid you ... well, never mind." (What, Mr. DiBiaz?) He sounded amazed. "You know, Tammy, you are very dedicated. When we cast you as Ariel, I knew you would do good, but I didn't think you'd do this good."

"Thanks!" Tammy grinned, pleased.

"When you first started out," Mr. DiBiaz continued, "you were good, but a bit of a troublemaker. But you've come so far. You know all your lines, don't you?"

"Most of them," Tammy replied, a little impatiently. She wanted to get out of there and call Brett!

"Well, I guess you'd better go and call Brett. I wouldn't want to keep a star actress waiting!"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. DiBiaz!" Tammy hurried off before he could say anything else. The phone was in the downstairs get-together room. Luckily for Tammy, no one else was in there. She dialed Brett's number and waited while the phone rang.

"Hello?" a woman's voice said cheerfully.

"Hi! Is Brett there?"

"Yes. Hold on a second, please."

There was a pause. Then Brett's voice said, "Hello?"

"Hi!" Tammy said again. "It's Tammy."

"Tammy!" Brett cried happily. "How are you?"

"Pretty good," Tammy replied.

"Cool. How come you're calling?"

"Um ... I just wanted to talk."

There was a pause, then sounding slightly uncomfortable, Brett muttered, "Oh."

Oh? Tammy was confused. Why did he sound so ... different all of a sudden?

"Is it okay if I call?" Tammy asked uncertainly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Brett replied, sounding normal again. "It's just that ... well, never mind."

"Okay..." There was a silence. This wasn't at all what Tammy hoped it would be. She was about to say that she heard Mr. DiBiaz calling when Brett started to tell her about something that happened at his soccer practice that day. Eagerly, Tammy listened. Then, she told Brett about something. Soon, they were laughing and joking like old friends. They talked for fifteen minutes, which was Fruitville's limit.

"Well," Tammy said at last. "It was nice talking to you. Can I call again sometime?"

"Yeah! Sure! Call tomorrow!" Brett sounded happy, too.

"Bye, Brett."

"Bye, Tammy."

Tammy hung up the phone. She just wanted to go on hearing Brett's voice forever! He was so nice. They were going to be the perfect couple!

***

Brett hung up the phone. She was so confusing! At first he wasn't sure he liked the idea of Tammy calling at all. But once they got to talking...

Brett sighed. Tammy had almost everything. She was pretty. (We KNOW!) She was a good actress. She was nice, and funny, and ... the list went on and on. So why didn't the other orphans like her? She certainly wasn't shy. And it couldn't be because she was an orphan, because they were orphans, too.

What if she asks me out? Brett thought anxiously. He didn't know what he'd say if that happened.

"I'll think about that when the time comes," Brett muttered to himself.

************************************************************************
Coming up: Tammy and Brett have a date (and speak in painfully bad "romantic" dialogue) and Beth and her minions finally come up with a plan to put Tammy in her place!

Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Three

2008-11-30T01:13:00.000-08:00

This Thanksgiving, among other things, I was very thankful to stumble across the first two books in the Lisa and the Angels series (written way back when the girls weren't even Lisa and the Angels yet), both of which I thought were gone forever! Both are delightfully plotless wonders, and they're both even completed. I can't wait to post them here. You'll soon have the pleasure of reading about Cyndi being kidnapped and left for dead, Aunt Josephine's introduction, Cyndi hopping a boxcar and winding up in NYC, plus about a zillion outfit descriptions (Stacie and Cyndi even have a "style contest").

Meanwhile, as you will see below, there's still much drama to unfold in Fruitville-land...

Chapter Five

"Where's my script?"

"How should I know?" Christina snapped.

"Because I put it on my bed before practice, and now it's gone, and YOU'RE the only one who's been in here since then." Tammy folded her arms across her chest. "Give it back, Christina. Now."

"I don't know where it is!" Christina insisted, even though she knew perfectly well it was now in Beth Harris's dresser drawer. But she wasn't going to tell Tammy that! Especially not after Tammy had called her a "pig" and her best friend Janine a "loser."

Tammy sighed. "If you don't give it to me ... right now ... I'm going to steal your earring collection." Everyone knew that Christina's huge assortment of earrings were practically her pride and joy.

(Come on, Tammy, can't you come up with a better threat than that? Who announces to someone they're going to steal their stuff?)

But Christina wasn't fazed. "You would steal," she said simply, getting up and walking out of the room.

Tammy sat down on her bed and sighed again. Somehow, Beth had managed to turn the whole orphanage against her. It was only obvious Christina had stolen the script.

"If she won't give it to me, I'll just have to find it," Tammy said out loud.

She stood up and began to demolish Christina's part of the room. She tore all the covers and sheets off Christina's bed, dumped the contents of her jewelry box on the floor, emptied her two dresser drawers, and ripped all of her clothes from the closet off of their hangers.

(Sounds like Tammy's due for an appointment with the Fruitville guidance counselor.)

"Where is it?" Tammy groaned, frustrated. Wait! Maybe it was Janine. Or maybe Christina had just hidden it someplace with Janine's stuff. It was possible. Tammy decided to check.

She stripped Janine's bed of its covers, dumped out her dresser drawers, and so on. It wasn't with Janine's stuff, either! Where was it?

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Tammy whirled around at the sound of the loud yell. It was Christina and Janine, both of them standing in the doorway, surveying their destroyed room. "What did you do?!" Christina wailed again, just as Janine yelled something angrily in Japanese.

"I was looking for my script," Tammy replied matter-of-factly. "If you hadn't stolen it, I wouldn't have messed up the room."

Christina and Janine began to shout at once, things like, "WE DIDN'T STEAL YOUR SCRIPT!" "I HATE YOU!" "LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY EARRINGS!" Tammy began to shout back at them. The three girls were so loud that none of them noticed Trisha, their adult supervisor, standing in the doorway until Trisha herself screeched, "WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?"

The roommates stared at her.

"Who messed up this room?" Trisha asked quietly. Janine and Christina pointed at Tammy.

"Why?"

"They stole my script!" Tammy cried. "I had to find it!"

"Did you steal her script?" Trisha questioned Christina and Janine.

"NO!" they yelled in unison. "I wasn't even in here!" Janine added.

Trisha turned back to Tammy. "Tammy ... did you have to destroy the room just because you misplaced your script?"

"I DIDN'T MISPLACE IT!" Tammy insisted. "They STOLE it!"

(Stop shouting! I'm starting to get a headache just typing it.)

"They tell me they didn't steal it, and I believe them. Now I want you to clean up this mess. You may look for your script when you're through."

"OH MY GOSH!" Tammy screamed. "THAT IS SO UNFAIR! CAN'T THEY EVEN HELP?"

"No, Christina and Janine will not help. It may be unfair, but life's not always fair. Now pick up your room."

"YOU pick it up," Tammy retorted, storming out the door. (If this was on TV, the studio audience would say "Oooh!" after that line.) She didn't know where she was going, she just knew she was going as far away from Fruitville as possible!

Tammy was stomping upstairs to the lobby when she heard an angry voice yell, "TAMMY MORRIS ... GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!" Sighing, she turned around. Trisha was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her face resembled a thundercloud.

"What do you want?" Tammy grumbled.

"DON'T YOU EVER TALK THAT WAY TO ME AGAIN! I WILL NOT CLEAN UP YOUR ROOM, YOU WILL, RIGHT NOW ... NO, WAIT! NEVER MIND!" Trisha marched up, grabbed Tammy's wrist, and started pulling her along.

"Where are you taking me?" Tammy asked disgustedly.

"TO MR. DIBIAZ!" (Mr. DiBiaz was like the principal of Fruitville.)

"Why?"

"YOUR SASSY MOUTH!" They reached the top of the stairs and Trisha pulled Tammy into the auditorium. Mr. and Mrs. DiBiaz were sitting on the stage, gazing at each other lovingly. (Is that all they were doing?) They looked up when they noticed their visitors.

"Trisha? What's going on?" Mr. DiBiaz asked, concerned.

"Nick? Do you KNOW what this girl did?!"

"No, I don't," Mr. DiBiaz replied, sounding slightly amused. "What did Tammy do?"

"I said 'pick it up'," Tammy explained. "Big crime, huh?" (Shut UP, Tammy!)

"IT'S HER SMART-ALECKY MOUTH! First she misplaces her script and accuses poor, innocent Janine Yamamoto and Christina Chase of stealing it! Then she literally tears her room apart looking for the script. I come in and tell her to pick the room up, and she tells ME to pick it up!!!"

"Is this true, Tammy?" Mr. DiBiaz asked quietly.

"Yes," Tammy replied. "But they stole my script! It was on my bed..."

"Then I have no choice but to punish you," Mr. DiBiaz interrupted.

"Punish me? I didn't even do anything wrong! Christina should be punished."

"No, Christina should not be punished. Christina didn't do anything. But you sassed Trisha." (Apparently tearing the room apart is no big deal in Mr. DiBiaz's mind.)

"That's not fair!" Tammy cried. "She didn't give me a chance to tell my story!"

"Life is not always fair, Tammy."

"Life is not always fair," Tammy mimicked. (Monster.) "Jeez, is that all you guys know how to say?"

"WHAT?! Are you sassing me?"

"No, but knowing 'life's not always fair' isn't going to make me agree that I should be punished!"

"I think you ARE sassing me! I think this calls for a night in time out!"

"Time out?" Tammy snapped. "We don't even have a time out!"

"We do now! And you will be its first visitor. The practice room by the choir room is now our official time out booth. Trisha will escort you there, and YOU WILL STAY THERE UNTIL LIGHTS OUT! Tomorrow morning you may miss first class ... BECAUSE YOU WILL BE TOO BUSY CLEANING UP THE MESS YOU MADE!"

(Wouldn't it make more sense to tell her to clean it up first, then send her to time out?)

"Fine. I don't care. But aren't you even going to find my script?"

"NO! YOU WILL FIND IT YOURSELF!"

"She is Ariel, Nick," Mrs. DiBiaz reminded her husband. "Maybe she can memorize her lines in time out."

Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "Okay. Whatever. I'll send an orphan to go find it. BUT RIGHT NOW YOU MARCH OVER TO THAT BOOTH!"

"Okay," Tammy said simply as a smiling Trisha led her away to time out. She really didn't care. Time out might even be nice. Tammy could finally get away from everyone who hated her so much, and she could memorize her lines, too -- if Christina ever gave her script back.

***

"You guys! You guys! Tammy got in trouble!" Christina cried gleefully, running into the Harris sisters and Jinnie Nye's room.

"She did?" Beth grinned. "What happened?"

"She messed up the room looking for her script, and sassed Trisha and Mr. DiBiaz. Now she's stuck in the practice room, and they're calling it time out!"

"Cool!" Everyone started to laugh. "She's getting what she deserves!"

"Well, I need her script now," Christina said. "Mr. DiBiaz is making me 'find' it for her. I'll just tell him it was under Tammy's bed!"

"Okay. Here. Wait 'til you see it!" Beth tossed Christina the script. The mint green cover had been ripped off so only the front page and back page showed, and those pages were filled with little scribbles and notes. (I wonder what the notes said. And these girls are such freaks ... all of them!)

"We're not supposed to ruin our scripts," Beth reminded Christina. "So she'll get in trouble again!"

"Okay by me!" Christina laughed. "I gotta go give this to her. Bye!"

"Bye!" the sisters and Jinnie chorused back.

By dinnertime, everyone in the orphanage knew about Tammy and time out.

"I saw Mrs. DiBiaz bringing her her dinner on a tray," giggled Kendra Hogan.

"She doesn't even care!" added Wendy. "She probably likes it in there!"

"Aren't you guys being kinda ... mean?" Megan asked hesitantly, fiddling with her silverware.

"She called you a whole bunch of names," Beth said.

"Well, I know. But I don't think everyone should be mad at her. Right now, she's probably more hated than one of the snobs, or Virginia Vaughn or someone." (Leave Virginia Vaughn alone.)

"She deserves it," Stella insisted. "She deserves it."

Chapter Six

Tammy had decided to ignore everyone at the orphanage. Ignoring them was the best way to handle them. When Mr. DiBiaz let her out of time out and a bunch of orphans crowded around, giggling, she ignored them. When she crawled into bed that night and Christina and Janine made some wisecracks, she ignored them. And the next morning, when the three girls were getting ready and Janine and Christina made some more cracks, she ignored them.

So this is what it feels like to be a nerd, Tammy thought sadly, after her roommates had gone down to breakfast and she was alone in her room. I'd feel sympathetic toward them, but they hate me, too.

It wasn't fair. It seemed to Tammy like she'd lost everything this year. First she lost her parents. Then she was whisked away from her town and lost her home, and friends, and puppy Snookums. Now, because of Beth, she'd lost her friends at the orphanage, too.

"At least I still have my looks," Tammy muttered, staring into the mirror. (Beyond shut up.) But even those could be ruined soon. Beth or someone else might sneak into her room while she was sleeping and cut all her hair off, or worse.

Tammy tried to memorize some of her lines, but she just couldn't concentrate. The thief who had stolen her script had ruined it, too. Tammy was a fairly neat person, and the scribbles and markings on her now cover-less script were starting to annoy her. They made her look like some rebellious punk that didn't care about her belongings.

Tammy got up and looked in the mirror again. She fingered her honey-colored curls. She was pretty alright. Beautiful. (Ugh x 1,000!) But was that any reason to be hated? Stella was pretty, too. Tami was pretty, Megan was pretty, Meg was pretty, even Beth was kind of pretty in a tough-looking way. They were all well-liked -- no one ever turned against them.

"I must have done something," Tammy decided. "But what?" She knew she could be a little conceited sometimes, but it was all pretty much a joke. She definitely didn't hate herself, but she didn't worship herself, either. Maybe Beth had gotten the wrong idea. But Tammy never even talked to a lot of the girls that were mad at her!

She couldn't figure it out. It wasn't because she only talked to pretty people, because that wasn't true. She talked to Belinda, and Ericka Steinberg, and Deena, and Kendra Hogan. They weren't exactly beauty queens. But she was nice to them! (How big of her.)

She didn't really make fun of the nerds, she kept her distance from them. Tammy didn't think she had said anything to offend Beth. So what was it?

"Oh, well," Tammy sighed. "I'll probably find out sooner or later."

***

The orphanage's school started at 8:15, and Tammy's first class was language arts. Unfortunately, the orphans were classed by age, and she was with Beth and Stella. She sat by Meg, and the first thing Meg did was move her desk over by Dustie Rawlings and Erin Wells.

"Fine. Like I care," Tammy told her. "Like I'd want to sit by you."

"No one wants to sit by you," Meg retorted.

"Now, Meg," said Miss Jenkins, the teacher. "You don't sit over there. You're over by Tammy, aren't you?"

"No," Meg lied.

"Yes you are. Move your desk back."

"I don't want to sit by her!" Meg and Tammy cried in unison.

Miss Jenkins sighed. "It is time for new seating. Maybe we can change. Would you girls rather pick your seats or have me assign them?" (Why do teachers even bother asking such a question? A couple of mine used to do that.)

"Pick!" everyone cried, except for Tammy, who didn't care one way or the other.

"Okay. Quickly choose a partner to sit by, and then take out your packets from last week."

The girls began rushing to sit by their best friends. Tammy was about to sit next to Megan, the only person who hadn't really said anything to her, when Erin ran over and practically fell into the chair. "This is my seat," she hissed.

"Okay, I'll sit over here," Tammy replied simply, dumping her books down on the table with the computer.

"What a loner," Beth snickered from the desk in front of her. "You don't even have any friends to sit with."

"I'm not a loner," Tammy said. "I'm just too good for any of you."

"Yeah, right," Stella replied. The girls had to begin their work then.

During a spelling test, Tammy noticed Beth passing a note to Stella. Stella read it, grinned, and stuffed it into her desk. An idea was starting to form in Tammy's head.

Right before the literature session began, Tammy grabbed Stella's reader from the shelf next to the computer table and hid it in a cupboard. Miss Jenkins told the class to go get their readers. Tammy grabbed her own and sat there, looking casual.

"Hey!" she heard Stella cry. "Where's my reader?"

No one answered.

Stella turned to Tammy. "Give me my reader!" she ordered.

"I don't have it," Tammy replied calmly. "See?" She pointed to the name written on the inside front cover of her book. "It says Tammy Morris, not Stella Smith."

Stella ran to the front of the room, yelling, "Miss Jenkins! Tammy took my reader!" Quickly, Tammy reached into Stella's desk, grabbed the note, and stuffed it into her own reader. No one even noticed!

Miss Jenkins was walking to the back of the room. "Tammy?" she asked. "Did you take Stella's reader?"

"No," Tammy replied. She wasn't worried. If Trisha had believed Christina and Janine, Miss Jenkins would believe her.

And she did! "Stella," Miss Jenkins said kindly. "Maybe you accidentally put it somewhere else. Here, I'll check this cupboard ... oh, here it is!" Miss Jenkins handed the reader to Stella, who scowled at Tammy.

"Now," Miss Jenkins continued. "Everyone turn to page 130, read the story, and complete the questions. When the bell rings, you can leave."

Tammy turned to the story. The B.F.G. (Roald Dahl!) She pretended to be reading, but instead, very quietly unfolded the note and started to read that:

Stella-
Do you have any idea of some tricks to play on you-know-who? We've already stolen the script and gotten her in trouble. I can't think of any more tricks! But I do have another idea. I was thinking of, maybe, doing like a petition thing. We can write "We, the following, do not like you and think you'll be terrible as the lead in our play! Quit the role before we make you quit" and then have everyone sign it. I know everyone would! Do you like it? Grin if you do!
-Beth

(What absolute witches. Who tells someone to "grin"?)

Tammy angrily read the note three or four more times. So that's what they were trying to do! Make her give up her lead role! Tammy couldn't believe they would actually start a petition. What a jealous bunch of babies!

To think, she thought disgustedly. They were actually almost succeeding! Tammy had been debating whether or not to just quit the role of Ariel -- she couldn't concentrate on the part, knowing everyone hated her. But she didn't have to worry about that any more! Now that Tammy knew what the others were up to, she would show them. She was not going to let them upset her anymore, or get her in trouble, or play tricks on her. And she was not going to quit her role -- she was going to be the best Ariel there ever was!

*******************************************************************************
Coming up next: More play practice, and Tammy hooks up with Brett!

Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Two

2008-11-26T20:49:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving! Here's the next installment of the (very mean) Fruitville girls, and their little play. I'm going to try to keep commentary to a minimum, not because this isn't plenty snarkable, but because these chapters are fairly long -- feel free to snark away in the comments!

(Warning, there are a lot of names in the third chapter. I liked to make lists of names.)

Chapter Three

After a quick lunch, the orphans and Madison students resumed their auditions. A few more "J" names went (what was the point of making Brett Jamison go before lunch?), then the "K's" and "L's."

"Do you know what it's time for now?" Tammy whispered, grinning. "It's time for me to go get ready! 'Cause it's almost time for my audition!" She bounced off.

"Good riddance," Beth muttered.

"She looks so calm and happy," Stella said nervously. "I'm so nervous I have a stomachache."

"Don't worry," Beth reassured her. "You'll get the part." But inside Beth wasn't so sure. She hoped Stella had improved her singing.

Roberta March, Bridie Miller, and two boys' auditions seemed to fly by. The next thing Beth knew, Tammy was at the microphone.

"Are you ready?" Mr. DiBiaz asked her.

"Yup," Tammy replied, grinning that stupid grin. Ms. Pinelli began to play, and Tammy launched into a perky version of "Beechwood 4-5789."

"She's singing oldies," Beth groaned to no one in particular. "Grown-ups love oldies." Beth was right. The adults were smiling and tapping their feet. The worst part was, Tammy had a great voice. She was a hit. A huge hit.

There's still hope, Beth told herself. She could be a horrible dancer.

But no such luck. Tammy did a cute dance to an old 50's song, "Rockin' Robin." She was charming, well-choreographed, and in beat with the music. The grown-ups were ecstatic. Mrs. DiBiaz began to dance along! (Oh, gag.)

The last part was the script reading, and Beth knew how Tammy would do on that. She was at least as good as Brett, if not better. Stella would have to be outstanding to beat Tammy.

"How was I?" Tammy grinned when she sat back down.

"Great. Terrific," Stella muttered.

"Terrible," Beth lied.

Stella's turn wasn't for a few more hours. When she finally went up to the microphone, she stood there nervously, frowning as if she were about to get the death penalty. Her song began. It was "The Greatest Love of All."

Not Whitney Houston! Beth thought anxiously. How unoriginal! And why is her voice so shaky? She sounds like she's singing on a roller coaster.

"She sounds like she's singing on a roller coaster," Tammy spoke up casually.

"Shut up," Beth snapped. "You weren't that great, either."

Stella's dance was good, but it was to a modern song with a rap ("OPP"? this was around that time...), not an old 50's song. The adults frowned.

Stella's script-reading was excellent, definitely her best department. It could win her the part, Beth told herself. But Beth had her doubts.

After Stella, there were some more "S" last names, a few "T" names, a "U" name, some "W" names, a "Y" name, and a "Z" name -- Tami Zuendel. By that time, it was the 5 o'clock hour, and it was time to announce the parts. (That was some fast casting!)

"Now," Mr. DiBiaz began. "I want you to know that you are all winners, no matter what. You all had excellent auditions, and we wish we could pick all of you for lead parts." He chuckled. "But we don't have that many lead parts. I wish we did, but ..."

"Get on with it!" a Madison boy yelled impatiently.

Mr. DiBiaz gave him a dirty look. "Okay. Judges?" (Um, it's not a talent contest, Mr. DiBiaz.) A teacher, Miss Jenkins, handed him a piece of paper. "Here we go. We'll start with our fish. They will be played by ... Kenny Arrons, Megan Bagley, Dillon Barnes, Carrie Crumpacker, Shannon Douglas, Tom Hart, Luke Hendricks, Hollie Kolman, Jake Morrison, Rondie Patrick, Tyler Pratt, Dustie Rawlings, Pete Ross, Terissa Taylor, and Tami Zuendel."

"That's all I get?" Tami cried angrily. "A fish?"

Mr. DiBiaz frowned at her. "Just be patient. We have one special fish. The bass in 'Under the Sea' will be played by James Gustman. Now! Onto our seahorses. They will be ... Sammy Aarons, Jenny Ames, Courtney -- a boy -- Cromwell (I'm sure they figured out he was a boy during the auditions), Brenda Harris, Todd Jessel, Robby O'Friel, Trista Rich, and Tina Santos. The seahorse that speaks will be played by Ryan Wilson. Now, the townspeople."

"Do the good parts!" someone cried.

"I am reading the parts as they are listed, thank you. The couples dancing will be played by Jake Morrison and Terissa Taylor, Pete Ross and Jenny Ames, Dillon Barnes and Megan Bagley, Tom Hart and Tami Zuendel, Todd Jessel and Trista Rich. The individual townspeople will be played by Sammy Aarons, Kenneth Andrews, Jack Appleby, Kenny Arrons, Christina Chase, Courtney Cromwell, Carrie Crumpacker, Shannon Douglas, Shawn Egbert, Beth Harris, Brenda Harris, Wendy Harris, Luke Hendricks, Hollie Kolman, Robby O'Frield, Rondie Patrick, Tyler Pratt, Dustie Rawlings, Tina Santos, and Ryan Wilson."

"The merpeople," Mr. DiBiaz continued. "Are Brianna Arnold, Jill Bray, Jess Duggar (does she have 16 brothers and sisters?), Elisabeth Garcia, and Beth Harris as the mermaids, and David Bowman, Chris Christenson, Ryan Huff, Sam Johnston, and Grant Randall as the mermen. Mark Jenkins, Andrew Johnson, Joan Quackenbush, and Kris Walker will play the merpeople in 'Poor Unfortunate Souls.' There are various other sea creatures. The sharks will be played by Becca Fuller, Scott Kendrick, Jeraldine Snuff, and Kevin Sumner."

"Does that mean I act like a shark?" Becca asked suspiciously.

Mr. DiBiaz smiled. "No, honey, no. Now, there are four turtles. The dancing turtle will be Christina Chase, and the three being played like drums are Tamara Rogers, Milli Smith, and Virginia Vaughn. The three dancing flamingoes will be played by Wendy Harris, Martha James, and Janine Yamamoto. In 'Under the Sea' there are some clams and such which will be played by your orphans without any other roles. You will not be in the program."

"Gee, thanks!" an orphan yelled sarcastically.

Mr. DiBiaz frowned at her. But then he smiled again. "Now," he announced. "We are coming to the bigger parts! Ariel's six sisters -- Aquata and Adella and all them -- will be played by Sandra Austin, Catherine Henderson, Alexis Lugbein, Debbie Morton, Vicky Steenbie, and Scarlett Steinberg. The three maids at the castle will be Barbara Ryan, Serena Simpson, and Tyanne Volker."

"And now ... for the parts you've all been waiting for." A hush filled the auditorium. "Erik the Prince will be played by ... Brett Jamison. And Ariel the little mermaid will be played by ... Tammy Morris."

"Yea!" Tammy cried.

"Alright, Tam," Tami Zuendel said, grinning at her friend.

"Man," Beth grumbled. She turned to Stella, who looked disappointed. "Sorry," she said sympathetically.

"It's okay," Stella muttered.

Everyone was chattering and congratulating Brett and Tammy. Mr. DiBiaz held up his hand and cried, "Hold it! We still have more parts to announce." The kids quieted down.

"Ursula the Sea Witch will be played by ... Belinda Kazmeyer."

"WHAT?!" Belinda yelled. "Does that mean I'm terrible?"

"No, no. It means you're very good. That will be a hard part to play. Flotsam and Jetsam, Ursula's crocodiles, will be played by Bridie Miller and Lucia Willard. Urusla in disguise (wasn't her name Vanessa?) will be played by Stella Smith."

"Big part," Stella muttered.

"The king of the castle, Erik's father, will be played by Billy Luke. Erik's dog, Max, will be played by Deena Boulder."

"What?!!" Deena growled. "A dog?!!"

Mr. DiBiaz ignored her. "Louie, the chef ,will be played by Desi Gonzalez. Triton, the king of the sea, will be played by John Ketchum. Sebastian will be Scott Lunsford, Scuttle will be Brandon Douglas, and Flounder will be Meg Billman."

"Alright, Meg!" Tammy and Tami whispered. Meg grinned.

Mr. DiBiaz was still talking. "We've named all the acting roles in the show. But there are still some other jobs. Our set movers will be Aaron Ennis, Forrest Ludlow, Jane Roberts, and Dylan Sawaya. Our set designers will be Shelley Bartell, Kevin Cross, Thea DiBiaz, Roberta Malich, and Nort McWhittle ... with the help of an adult. Our costume designers will be Stephanie Armstrong, Joni Goode, Kendra Hogan, Samantha Slaught, and Candy Underwood ... also with the help of an adult. And I believe five of our girls will be joining the boys and girls from the Madison choir ... Jinnie Nye, Tracey Smith, Rachel Steenbie, Ericka Steinberg, and Erin Wells. Does anyone not have a part?"

Twelve orphans raised their hands.

Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "Alright. You twelve will have your free time as normal when we practice, until I tell you otherwise."

"Are we coming here tomorrow?" a Madison boy yelled.

"Yes. Starting tomorrow, you will come here to practice every other day except for the last week, when you will come here every day. Got it?"

"Yeah!" everyone screeched.

"Okay. Mr. Tatum will hand out your scripts, and then you Madison students can pile on out to your buses and my orphans can start their free time ... I encourage you to spend that time highlighting your lines or learning your parts."

The gray-haired man in the gray suit tossed everyone a thick, mint-green booklet with The Little Mermaid printed across the front. Tammy flipped through hers. Jeez! There were 'Ariels' on practically every page!

Pretty soon, the shouting in the auditorium had died down. The only people left inside were Beth, Stella, Megan, and Tammy.

Tammy was about to go join Tami and Meg in the gym when she noticed the expression on Stella's face. She looks so miserable, Tammy thought. In a way, Tammy felt kind of guilty. She did get the part of Ariel like she knew she would, and she was happy about it. But other people who wanted the part, like Stella, must have been pretty disappointed. (How Jessi Ramsey of Tammy.) Tammy decided to congratulate her friend. Stella had worked hard, too. She deserved it.

"Hi," Tammy said, walking over to the front of the stage, where Stella, Beth, and Megan were sitting.

"Oh, hi," Stella mumbled. She inched over a little bit so Tammy could sit down, too.

The four girls were silent for a moment. The auditorium doors were open, and Tammy could see huge Joan Quackenbush in the hallway that separated the auditorium from the cafeteria. Joan was stuffing leftover food from the breakfast cart under her sweatshirt -- Twinkies, and fruit pies, and Fibar bars.

(Apologies for my rather stereotypical depiction of an overweight girl. For the record, Joan was based on some wrestler named John Tenta, aka "The Earthquake." What are Fibar bars?)

"Look," Tammy snickered, pointing. "She just steals that stuff in front of everyone."

"Haven't you ever done that before?" Beth shot back.

Tammy gave her a strange look. "Uh ... no." She turned back to Stella and said sincerely, "You did a good job on your audition."

Stella snorted. "Yeah, right. Ursula in disguise. Whoa. You're the one who did a good job."

"I bet you knew you were going to get the main part, huh, Tammy?" Beth asked smugly.

"Well, I ..."

"We know, we know. You're so wonderful. Jeez, you don't have to brag."

"Why are you acting so strange and rude?!" Tammy cried angrily. "I didn't even do anything to you!"

"Guys, don't fight," Megan said in a worried voice.

"I can fight if I want to!" Beth retorted. "Aren't you getting tired of her constant conceitedness?"

Megan shrugged. "No..."

"Well, I am, and so's Stella, and so's everyone else!"

"You're just jealous of my good looks," Tammy said smugly.

"Yeah, right! We are not jealous of you. Get that in your head!" Beth screeched.

"You should be! You have so much grease in your hair, you could fill this whole building with it!" Tammy screamed back.

"It is NOT greasy..."

"SHUT UP!" Megan shouted. Tammy, Beth, and Stella stared at her. Megan rolled her eyes. "I mean, please be quiet. Now, Beth, come with me."

"What?" Beth groaned.

"Come with me," Megan repeated. "You can hate each other as much as you want, but you're not going to fight around me." Beth left with Megan, looking annoyed.

"What was her problem?" Tammy asked Stella after they were gone.

Stella just shrugged. She, too, was starting to get very annoyed with Tammy Morris.

Chapter Four

Tammy spent the rest of the evening highlighting her lines and trying to memorize the beginning ones. She was going to do a good job on this play, no matter what Beth or Stella or anyone thought! They were just jealous. (Shut up, Tammy.) Beth didn't even have any lines, and Stella only had about three.

But Tammy was still a little confused about why Beth was mad at her. Beth wasn't her best friend, but it wasn't exactly pleasant having someone hate you.

Oh, well, Tammy thought as she crawled under her covers (it was time for Lights Out) and Trisha, the B-floor's adult supervisor, stuck her head inside the room and flipped the light off. I'll worry about it tomorrow.

"Goodnight, Tammy. Goodnight, Christina," Janine whispered.

"Goodnight, Janine," Christina whispered back. "Goodnight, Tammy ... or should I say, goodnight, Ariel?"

"Goodnight, you guys," Tammy grinned. See, Beth! she thought triumphantly. It's just you that's mad! Everyone else is glad for me!

***

The next morning, Tammy woke up, as usual, to Mrs. DiBiaz's announcements. This time she didn't lounge around in bed, though, she immediately threw on an outfit, combed her hair, and sat down with her script. She was studying her lines before Christina and Janine were even dressed!

"Gosh," Christina murmured. "A little early today?"

"Huh?" Tammy mumbled absently. "Oh ... yeah. This play is gonna be so cool! You should be studying your lines, too."

"I don't have any lines. I'm excited, too, though."

"Yeah, well ... let me study." (Why ever don't they like her?)

Tammy was five minutes late for breakfast. But she had memorized her first five pages! She decided on some Twinkies and orange juice and headed for her usual table.

(I love all the healthy breakfast foods Fruitville serves.)

Something was wrong. It was already full! Stella, Tami, Meg, Ericka, Scarlett, Deena, Beth, Wendy, Brenda -- and Jinnie Nye was in Tammy's seat.

"Move, Jinnie," Tammy ordered the pudgy redhead. "This is my spot."

"Does it have your name on it?" Beth snapped back.

"Yeah, I'm staying right here!" Jinnie cried.

"But ..."

Tammy shot Tami a pleading look. Tami shrugged. "Jinnie was here first," she said firmly.

"Why don't you go sit with Joan?" Beth suggested sweetly.

"Shut up," Tammy grumbled, stomping off and sitting down at a table with Megan and some other girls. No matter how hard Beth tried, she wasn't going to ruin this play!

***

Step One is working out pretty good, Beth thought with a smile as she watched Tammy stomp away like a little baby. Step One of Beth's ruin-the-play plan was to let Tammy know Beth's opinion of her. Beth was pretty sure Tammy knew that by now. So it was time for Step Two -- turning everyone else against Tammy. She didn't think that would be too hard with Stella and her sisters, because Beth could convince her sisters of almost anything, and Stella, after all, had lost to Tammy.

"Who's getting tired of her?" Beth spoke up casually.

"Who? Tammy?" Ericka replied.

"Who else?"

"I kind of am," Stella admitted. "She's all 'Good job. You have a good part' ... but anyone know that Ariel is better than Ursula in disguise. It's like she's rubbing it in."

"Exactly," Beth nodded. Then she got an idea. "Hey, Tami! Did you know she laughed at your audition?"

"Really?" Tami asked curiously.

"Yes," Beth lied. "She said you danced like a puppet and sang like that lady in the old show 'All in the Family.'"

"That old lady who screeches?!" Tami exclaimed.

"Yes. And Stella, she said you sounded like you were singing on a roller coaster." That's even true! Beth thought.

"What a jerk!" Stella cried.

"I did hear her say that," spoke up Wendy. "Did she say anything about me?"

"No. But you can tell she doesn't like you or Brenda or me. Everytime we're around her, she always whispers something in someone's ear and laughs."

"I heard her call you a dog once, Deena," said Ericka.

"Dog?!" Deena growled. "No one calls me a dog and gets away with it!"

"No one says I dance like a puppet and gets away with it ... especially not my 'best friend'," Tami grumbled. "I've always liked you better anyway, Meg."

Meg grinned.

"You guys," whispered Beth. "I have an idea ... you know, to kind of like get back at her."

"What is it?" everyone asked eagerly, leaning forward.

"Well, you know how she's all excited about being Ariel? I was thinking we could, maybe, ruin the play. Who wants to see Tammy get all the credit?"

"I don't want to," Meg whined. "I want to be Flounder!"

"Aw, come on," Tami said. "It's not the biggest loss in the world."

"So? I like my part. I want to do the play!"

"Well," suggested Scarlett, "how 'bout if we just ruin it for Tammy? I'm not exactly thrilled with her, either. We can play tricks on her ... steal her script and stuff. Get her to quit. Then they'll have to pick a new Ariel -- Stella or someone -- and we can still do the play."

"Good idea!" cried Beth. "In fact, it's a great idea. I kinda wanted to do the play myself. Now we can still do it."

"Let's tell everyone about it ... everyone except her, of course," said Stella. "We may have to lie to some people, but we need everyone in on this."

"Let's even tell the boys!" Tami cried.

"Great," Beth said, grinning. I've done it! she thought happily. Step Two is working, and it looks like Step Three will, too! (Uh-oh. Poor, poor Tammy...)

***

By two o'clock, the time play practice was supposed to start, almost the whole orphanage was angry with Tammy. Even the nerds and snobs and loners. (snicker) Beth and the others had done an excellent job.

Mr. DiBiaz told the Madison boys and Fruitville girls they could get "acquainted" before practice. About twenty orphans ran over to introduce themselves to Brett Jamison.

"You guys, stop drooling over him. You're so immature," Tammy said, rolling her eyes.

The orphans swiveled around and snapped in unison, "Shut up!"

"Uh, excuse me," said Brett, looking slightly amused and slightly overwhelmed. "But isn't she Ariel? I think she's the one I should be getting to know the most."

"You wouldn't want to know her," Stella stage-whispered. "She has two personalities."

"I do not!" Tammy cried, exasperated.

"Whatever," Brett said. He walked over to some other Madison boy.

"Now see what you've done!" Martha James hissed angrily.

"It wasn't me. You're the ones who were chasing him around and flirting like idiots."

"We're the flirts?" Brianna Arnold snickered. "Ha! You should see yourself."

"I do," Tammy smirked. "I love looking at myself. It's a great pleasure."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Beth. "I can't stand you."

"You think I can stand you? No one can!"

"Think again, Tammy. You're the one no one can stand. Your best friend doesn't even like you anymore."

"Yes, she does."

"No, I don't," Tami grinned.

"Girls, break it up!" Mr. DiBiaz shouted, like they were having a wrestling match or something. "It's time to begin practice!"

"Where do we go?" cried Cass Firr, one of the twelve orphans who didn't have a part. (Yes, they do, they're thankless clams.)

"I've told you, Cass. Go have free time. You can watch us if you'd like. Now we'd best start. Mr. Tatum, if you would line your choir up, please. My girls, join them."

"Where do we stand?" asked one of the few Madison girls.

"Off to the side of the stage. Ms. Pinelli will show you."

The choir clumsily trooped up the stage's three stairs, bumping into each other on the way.

"No, no, no!" Mr. DiBiaz yelled. "Gracefully. You can't stomp up there like a herd of elephants!"

"Thanks a lot!" a girl cried, sounding insulted.

"I don't mean you look like elephants. But you're walking ... oh, never mind! Just go up there in a straight line ... in the order you're standing in ... and do it gracefully!"

The choir tried again. They were better.

"Good," smiled Mr. DiBiaz. "We're doing the song about 'Mysterious Fathoms Below.' Now sing!"

The choir began the song. They really weren't bad -- maybe even good -- until two voices could be heard loudly and clearly. One was humming the theme song to The Smurfs and the other was singing "The Hallelujah Chorus."
(What morons.)

"Cut!" Mr. DiBiaz yelled. "Ericka, Erin, what are you doing?! We're singing 'Mysterious Fathoms Below'!"

"Sorry," the girls said sheepishly.

"DON'T SORRY ME! JUST SING RIGHT!!!"

The choir started again. They were off-key this time, but at least they were all singing the same song.

"Now!" announced Mr. DiBiaz when they were through. "We need Triton, two of the sharks -- Kevin and Becca -- and the seahorse with the speaking part."

"I have a line," said Ryan Wilson, the seahorse with the speaking part.

"THEN READ IT!"

"Okay. Seahorse with the speaking part," Ryan read from the script. (Like he wouldn't have some name.) "Blows horn ... oh, I have to blow a horn?"

"YES! AND DON'T SAY SEAHORSE WITH THE SPEAKING PART!"

"But that's who I play!"

"I KNOW that, but DON'T SAY THOSE WORDS! NOW READ YOUR LINE!"

"Okay, okay. Jeez. You don't have to yell so loud." Ryan read his line. Next Sebastian the crab (Scott Lunsford) and Triton, Ariel's father (John Ketchum) had some lines. They were shockingly good. Ariel's sisters came next.

"SISTERS! GET ON STAGE!" Mr. DiBiaz boomed.

Five of the girls ran up beside him. Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "There are only five of you," he said impatiently.

"I know," replied Scarlett.

"WELL, WHERE'S THE OTHER SISTER?!"

"It's Alexis," said Sandra Austin, with her nose in the air. "She's doing free time."

"GO GET HER ... OH, NEVER MIND! What she misses, she misses. You five go ahead."

"Wait -- am I Aquata, or Adella, or what?" asked Debbie Morton.

"YOU ARE ... OH, I DON'T CARE! WHOEVER YOU WANT!"

"I want to be Aquata," Debbie grinned.

"I want to be Aquata," Scarlett argued.

"Just get on with it," Beth said impatiently under her breath. "If this keeps up, we won't even have to ruin it for Tammy!"

The sisters figured out their parts, and sang their song. Next it was time for ...

"You-know-who's debut," Beth muttered.

Tammy Morris walked up onstage with Meg. Meg had her script. Tammy didn't.

"TAMMY MORRIS, WHERE IS YOUR SCRIPT?"

Tammy shrugged. "I don't need it. I've memorized my first five pages."

Mr. DiBiaz's face relaxed into a grin. "GREAT! Now that's what I call an actress! Okay. You may begin."

Tammy and Meg (Flounder) started to act. But Tammy's heart wasn't in it like it was before. Did Beth have to turn her best friend against her? She kept forgetting every line.

"TAMMY!" Mr. DiBiaz bellowed. "I THINK YOU NEED YOUR SCRIPT!"

"I think so, too," Tammy said glumly.

Down in the audience, Beth was grinning. Step Three was working now, too! Scarlett had hidden Tammy's script just before practice, and Beth knew Tammy would be angry when she found out. She might even quit the play right then and there!

Beth sure hoped so. No matter what, Beth was going to make sure Tammy Morris would regret the day she said her first conceited comment.

************************************************************************

What is "Step Three" even supposed to be? Anyway, coming up next: the time-out booth and even more 'tween nastiness!

Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part One

2008-11-23T00:06:00.000-08:00

I created several "series" when I was growing up, but there were only two of them where I actually finished writing any books. The first was Lisa and the Angels, and the second was my Fruitville Orphanage for Girls series. If you haven't already guessed, I was obsessed with orphans. Fruitville was based around 70 or so girls, aged 10-15, who all lived in an orphanage (because those are so common nowadays) in the fictional town of Fruitville, Washington.

Despite the occasional mention of "Adoption Day" and some other related plots, this series didn't really have much to do with the girls' orphan status; it might as well have taken place in a boarding school. I finished about four of the stories, and started a few others, but as far as I know, Tammy the Little Mermaid is the only one to survive.

One of the more noteworthy things about this story is the title. Not just its cheesiness, but the fact that ... my name also happens to be Tammy. However, I didn't name the title character after myself! Her name actually came from that boxer, Tommy Morrison. I wasn't a boxing fan, but Rocky 5 happened to be my favorite movie when I was 11, and I thought "Tommy Gunn" was really hot. Hence Tammy Morris's name.

As for the other girls, I WAS a wrestling fan at the time, and the rest of their names all somehow stemmed from wrestlers' names. For example, "Milli Smith" came from Davey Boy Smith, who had Milli Vanilli-ish dreadlocks (oddly, even though Davey Boy was my favorite wrestler, Milli was only a minor character in Fruitville).

Now that I've explained things a little, here are the first two chapters of Tammy the Little Mermaid! If I had to pick a junior/YA series to compare this to, it kind of reminds me of the Taffy Sinclair books, although Tammy is no Taffy. But the other girls are certainly as bratty as Jana and her friends. Read on and see!

Chapter One

(Starts on page 3 because I wrote this in a looseleaf notebook and the first two pages got ripped out and are long-lost. From what I remember, Tammy Morris is in her room, just waking up from some stupid dream about a "hunk" on the beach. She also thinks a little about The Little Mermaid, the upcoming play that Fruitville will be putting on with the boys from Madison Middle School. Her roommates, Christina Chase and Janine Yamamoto, are there, too, telling Tammy to get her lazy @ss out of bed. Page 3 officially begins with this gem...)

Tammy didn't want to make them mad at her. Enough people already got mad at her because they were jealous of her looks. Who wouldn't be jealous? Tammy thought dreamily. I'm the prettiest girl at the orphanage...

(What a "likable" character already.)

"Tammy!" Christina cried impatiently. "Get up!"

"Oh, sorry," Tammy said halfheartedly. She jumped out of bed and began to search through her part of the closet for the perfect outfit. With the exception of the DiBiaz's spoiled daughter Thea (the DiBiaz's -- who were named after Ted DiBiase -- ran the orphanage), Tammy had the most clothes of any girl at the orphanage -- partly because she was new and her things all still fit her, and partly because the prettiest girls always had to have the most clothes. (At least in Tammy's opinion.) She finally settled on some flowered shorts and a loose sweatshirt (good to dance in) and checked her reflection in the room's small mirror. Blonde curly hair, big blue eyes ... she looked better than ever!

Janine and Christina had long since left the room and were in the cafeteria, eating breakfast. Tammy went downstairs to join them and the other orphans. She went through the food line, exchanged her meal tickets for some Brownee Bites (what ever happened to those?) and a carton of milk, and sat down at her usual table with Stella Smith, Ericka and Scarlett Steinberg, Beth and Wendy Harris, Meg Billman, and her best friend, Tami Zuendel.

(For old-school wrestling fans, those names = Sting, Rick and Scott Steiner, Brett and Owen Hart, Brian Pillman, and Tom Zenk.)

"Hi," she greeted everyone.

"Hi," replied everyone except Beth.

"Are you nervous about the play?" Meg added. "I am! I'm trying out for Flounder. What about you?"

"Ariel," Tammy answered. "I'm gonna get her, too."

"How do you know?" Stella retorted. "Some other good people are trying out for her, too."

"Whatever," Tammy grinned.

"You might not get the part, you know, Tammy," Beth spoke up coldly. "Stella's really good, and I've seen you practice, and you messed up about four times."

"Everyone messes up," Tammy defended herself, surprised by Beth's sudden rude outburst.

"Well, I think Tammy's going to get the part," Tami said supportively.

"And I think Stella will," Scarlett added, grinning at her good friend.

"Thanks," Stella said. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see!"

***

"Jeez, look how cute they are!" Brenda Harris cried.

"Look at him!" Wendy Harris added, pointing down at a blonde-haired boy. The Madison buses were pulling up, and the two girls were at an upstairs window, staring down at the many boys (and a few girls) piling out onto the sidewalk.

"Oh, my gosh, that has to be the cutest one yet! I hope I get to act with him," Brenda exclaimed.

"Staring at the guys?"

Beth, the middle Harris sister, strolled into the room and over to the window. "They are pretty cute," she said. "It's not often we get to see boys, being at a girls' orphanage. Well, are you guys ready? The auditions start soon."

"Yeah," Brenda replied.

"None of us are trying out for any big parts," said Wendy. "So we're not nervous or anything. At least, I'm not."

"I wouldn't want to be Ariel," added Brenda. "She has too many lines."

"Know who I don't like?" Beth said suddenly.

"Who?" Wendy and Brenda asked in unison.

"Tammy Morris. She's trying out for Ariel. Miss Conceited. I've never liked her. I hope she gets a tiny bit part."

"Why don't you like her?" Wendy asked. "I don't really know her, but I think she's okay."

"She bugs me!" Beth cried. "I heard her ask Virginia Vaughn if she agreed that she was the most beautiful girl in the universe. She's so stuck-up!"

"I think she was just kidding about that," said Brenda. "Everyone says dumb things to Virginia. Virginia's a nerd."

(Virginia Vaughn = Virgil.)

"Yeah, but she brags to everyone. I usually try to ignore her, but ever since the DiBiaz's brought up the play, she's been going on and on about how she's going to make the 'perfect' Ariel. What really bugs me, though, is that I think she may be right. She's one of those charming people who tries to be cute. And she's actually kinda good."

"Tammy's probably going to get the part," Beth continued, smiling as she suddenly thought of a new idea. "But she's not going to enjoy it very much. Because I am going to ruin it for her!" (dum da-da dummm...ominous!)

Chapter Two

"Testing ... one, two, three! Testing ... one, two, three!" Mr. DiBiaz blew into the microphone.

"Why doesn't he just start?" Tammy muttered impatiently. The orphans and Madison middle school students were crowded backstage in Fruitville's huge auditorium, waiting for the auditions to begin.

"Maybe he needs to see if the microphones work," Beth shot back. She rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't care if he starts soon. I'm too nervous to go up there," Wendy babbled. (Wait, wasn't she "not nervous" in the last chapter?) "What if I forget my lines? Uh-oh, I just forgot my song! I can't go..." Suddenly a high-pitched shrieking noise filled the room and the orphans jumped. "I hate it when he blows that whistle!" Wendy cried. "Why'd he blow it into a microphone? Is he trying to deafen..."

"Shut up, stupid, he's starting," Brenda whispered.

"Don't call me stupid," Wendy retorted. "I'm smarter than you are."

"Everyone's staring at you," Tammy hissed.

Wendy looked around and noticed over a hundred faces staring back at hers. "Hi," she said, waving.

Mr. DiBiaz gave her a dirty look. "As I was saying," he continued. "For those of you who don't know me, I am Nick DiBiaz, the founder of this orphanage. This here is my wife, Karen." The Madison boys clapped and whistled. Mrs. DiBiaz, who was clinging to her husband's side, smiled shyly and ducked her head.

"What a fake," Stella snickered.

"The principal of Madison, my good friend Corey Tatum, is here with his students," said Mr. DiBiaz. A gray-haired man in a gray suit smiled and raised his hand. "Along with Mr. Tatum is Madison's drama director, Ellen Fairsburg. Please be kind to our Madison guests. Now, are there any questions before we begin?"

A red-headed rebellious girl named Belinda raised her hand."When do we have to go back to school?"

Mr. DiBiaz sighed. "I've already explained that, Belinda. There will be no school today on account of the auditions taking up so much time, but starting tomorrow all of our classes will be cut ten minutes short, so you will have your sixth period and some of your free time to practice." (The orphans did attend school. The classrooms were located in the orphanage and only the orphans attended, but otherwise it was no different from regular school.)

A short brown-haired boy yelled, "Do we have to come here every day?"

This time Mr. Tatum sighed. "I've explained that, Peter. You'll stay at school some days, and come here some days."

"I understand that your Madison girls are strictly chorus members and are not trying out for parts. Is that correct?" Mr. DiBiaz questioned.

"Yes," Mr. Tatum replied.

Mr. DiBiaz looked relieved. "Good. (How rude.) Now we can start. We will begin our auditions with ... Mr. Sammy Aarons!"

Ms. Pinelli, Fruitville's music teacher, took a seat at the piano. A stereotypical nerd walked over to the middle of the stage. He was small and thin, with brown bushy hair and thick glasses held together by a strip of masking tape.

(Sounds like I'd been watching too much Saved By the Bell. Incidentally, I pictured Mr. DiBiaz to look like Mr. Belding.)

Some of the orphans started to laugh. "Whoa, baby!" Belinda yelled.

"You want to go out with me?" Wendy added. Stella, Tammy, Tami, Deena, and Meg were rudely laughing and pointing.

(These girls are beyond obnoxious, especially that brat Wendy. Sorry, Owen Hart.)

Mr. DiBiaz turned to them. "GIRLS!!" he bellowed. They were silent. He turned back to Sammy. "You may begin."

"Thanks," Sammy grinned. He began to dance around and sing some song called "Runaround Sue." It was too much ... he was so geeky-looking!

"What a stud!" Meg howled. Sammy blushed and fell to the ground.

Now the girls were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. "Did he trip or what?" Tammy giggled.

"I - I don't know!" Wendy choked out between laughs. "Hey, Sammy, you're a coordinated stud, too!" she shouted. Sammy stood up, brushed off his gray trousers, and glared at her. Then he ran off the stage, bawling. Ms. Pinelli rushed after him.

Mr. DiBiaz turned towards the seven laughing orphans. "GIRLS!!" he shouted again. "YOU ARE TOO MUCH! HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF SOMEONE DID THAT TO YOU?"

"Sorry," Tami snickered. "But he's such a geek!"

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO LAUGH HIM OFF THE STAGE! NOW, IF YOU DON'T BEHAVE, YOU WON'T EVEN GET TO AUDITION!!"

"Are you gonna pick us up by the shirt and overwork us, like in Annie?" Wendy asked, pretending to be scared.(Ugh...)

"NO! BUT I WILL NOT HAVE YOU HARASSING THE MADISON BOYS!"

"They ain't harassin' us," said a long-haired boy in a heavy metal T-shirt.

"Yeah," grinned Stella. "We wasn't doing anything."

"WEREN'T, NOT WASN'T!" Mr. DiBiaz whirled back around. "Next auditioner."

"We love you, Miss Hannigan," Wendy murmured.

Mr. DiBiaz spun towards her. "DO YOU WANT TO BE IN THE PLAY OR DON'T YOU, YOU LITTLE SMART ALECK?"

"Oooh," Wendy said warningly. "You called me a name!"

"Shut up," Beth giggled, nudging her sister. (No kidding.)

Mr. DiBiaz filled his cheeks with air, then let it slowly seep out. "Okay, girls," he said dejectedly. "Have it your way."

"We're sorry," Wendy apologized. The girls calmed down after that. They watched a ditzy blonde-haired girl named Jenny Ames, two Madison boys, Stephanie Armstrong, Brianna Arnold, three more boys, and Sandra Austin audition. The first "B"-named auditioner was Megan Bagley, who was very nice and polite, and also a good friend of Stella's. "Go, Megan!" Stella cried.

Mr. DiBiaz whirled around.

"What?" Stella rolled her eyes. "I was just cheering her on."

Meg, Deena Boulder, and many other boys and girls auditioned. Finally it was time for the "H"'s. Brenda was the first Harris sister up. She was okay, but not exceptional. Beth was a little better. Wendy was an excellent dancer, but that was about it.

"You guys did great," Tami told them when they sat back down.

"Thanks," Beth grinned.

"You really did," Tammy added.

Beth ignored her. "She's probably just saying that to make sure we'll compliment her," Beth whispered to Brenda. Brenda just smiled.

The girls boredly watched the auditions for a couple more hours. At noon, Mr. DiBiaz announced, "Oh! Time for lunch. We'll resume the auditions when we return."

"YEA!!!" everyone cheered. They were standing up and stretching, about ready to head to Fruitville's cafeteria, when Mr. DiBiaz cried, "Oh! Hold it. One more audition ... we almost forgot. Brett Jamison."

"Oh!" everyone groaned. But every single orphan's eyes lit up when they saw the boy about to perform.

"Look at him!" Stella whispered excitedly to Tammy.

"He's the cutest one here!" Tammy whispered back. The boy was like a smaller version of the hunk in her dream. "But we'll have to see if he's any good," Tammy realized.

She didn't have to worry. Brett was terrific. His song, "Colour My World", was clear and strong, he was a good dancer, and his script reading was the most believable of anyone's so far. He was obviously going to get the part of Erik the prince ... and Tammy just knew she would play opposite him as Ariel!

********************************************************************
Coming up next: the parts are announced! Also, Beth launches her plan to turn everyone against poor misunderstood Tammy (who they are "just jellus" of).

The rest of The Performance (June and Jennifer)

2008-11-21T02:42:00.000-08:00

Here, (un?)fortunately, is the finale to this wonderful Super Special edition of Lisa and the Angels. It's no surprise I got bored with this and gave up after thrilling old June and Jennifer. At least they aren't as dull as Christine (I don't remember what happened to her in the original version of The Performance or if she even had any chapters).

Incidentally, June Wilcok was played in dolly-land by the same Barbie doll as ~~Carrie's friend~~ Sandra Marcus... but don't worry, June is much nicer than Sandra.

Chapter Six - June

Hi Lisa, sorry my handwriting is so messy. (It's not all that messy in my notebook. It looks like Mary Anne Spier's.) I'm writing this on the shuttle bus.

I'm on my way to Disneyland, of course. The rest of you guys are in the bus, too. The band members are already there, warming up.

What's going on? Well, I'm about ready to sing in my very first concert! I am so excited!

This also happens to be Jennifer and Christine's first concert as members of Lisa and the Angels. But I bet they're not as nervous as I am. They, at least, have performed as background vocalists. (Like all of the "Angels" aren't just glorified background vocalists.)

Oh, I'm frightened. What if I trip and fall? What if I mess up on my dance moves? What if ...

Oh, we're here!
Aaaah!!!

(June sure writes fast considering their motel is only supposed to be a block or two away from Disneyland. Why are they riding a bus, anyway? How lazy.)

Concert time!!!

It was about time to begin Performance #1 of our Disneyland concerts. Butterflies were flapping around in my stomach. Here was my chance to show off my performing skills!

Backstage, I asked my best friend Stacie, "How do I look?"

"Mah-ve-lous!" she cried. I was wearing simple white shorts, a tank top with Donald Duck on it (bought in New York), and white slippers. Practical, but cute! I thought.

I did fourteen push-ups, to get rid of the stress. (Dork.) Then I took twelve deep breaths.

"It's time," Cyndi whispered to me.

We ran onstage. The mega-sized audience clapped and cheered wildly.

Meanwhile, the band was playing the soft intro to our romantic ballad "My Best Friend." The song holds the record of being Lisa and the Angels' biggest hit, a fact obvious to the audience. Their applause was nearly deafening!

Lisa began to sing in her sweet, clear voice. "We've been together for a long time, baby..."

"Oooh, oooh," us Angels cooed along, swaying to the beat. I relaxed. This was easy and fun!

And the audience loved us! I recognized that whole school group, plus the two identical twin boys Carrie and Erin Heart met, and there were lots of other folks!

When the song was done, Lisa cried, "Hello, everybody!"

"Hi!" the audience replied.

"Louder! I can't hear you!"

(Oh, shut up.)

This time, the audience roared. "HI!!!!"

"Better! Thank you for coming to our concert! This next song is one of our number ones -- 'It Should've Been You'!"

This was a fast tune, and Lisa had choreographed a perky dance to it.

Afterwards, we sang four more songs. Finally, Lisa said, "Okay, folks! One more song left! But before we sing it, I want to introduce you to our newest member -- June Marie Wilcok!"

Me? I thought.

The audience applauded and cheered. I grinned and waved.

"June is a great singer," Lisa continued, "with a spectacular range. She dances nicely. She's the perfect addition to our group. So I'm dedicating this last song, 'In the Land of Dreams', to June!"

Oh, cool! I thought. We sang the song.

And when we were through, Lisa cried along with the music still playing, "Thanks! Thank you all for coming! We love you!" She blew a kiss and waved. (Vomit.)

I waved right along with her, a big grin on my face. My first concert was over, and it had been a success!

The ten of us had to sign quite a lot of Disneyland autograph books, sheets of paper, napkins, notepads, plastic bags, etc ... someone even made Lisa sign a piece of bread! (What, no Lisa and the Angels schwag?) Then Miss Jewell said we could walk around Disneyland for another hour.

Now that the concert was behind me, I was relaxed and happy. I asked Stacie if she wanted to walk around with me, go on a few rides, and help me begin my perfect collection of Disney souvenirs.

"One thing," I added hesitantly. "Did you bring the petition?"

Stacie glared at me. I didn't mean to make her mad, but it's a little embarrassing when your best friend walks around demanding of strangers, "Are you tired of seeing the trees of your neighborhood disappear before your very eyes?"

(Note, Stacie didn't have this personality trait in any other Lisa and the Angels book. Actually, she didn't have much of a personality at all after her first book, Me and Snobby Stacie. In that one, she was a huge freak who -- speaking of trees -- among other things, kidnapped Cyndi, tied her to a tree, and left her for dead in Woodland Park.)

"No, I didn't," Stacie finally answered. "But yes, I'll walk around with you."

We strolled around, window-shopping and enjoying all the pleasant sights. In Adventureland, I saw a store and declared, "I just have to go to this post!"

The "post" was filled with exotic souvenirs like long, feather earrings and coral bracelets. I looked around, and decided on the feather earrings -- my first souvenir!

Stacie didn't buy anything, but we agreed practically in unison to go on the Jungle Cruise next. Since it was so late, the line wasn't long at all. Five minutes after we stepped in line, we were climbing into the boat!

I found myself between Stacie and an elderly couple. "Hello," the woman greeted us, smiling. "How are you girls tonight?"

"Fine, thank you," Stacie answered shyly.

I was more enthusiastic. "Oh, we're great! The weather's beautiful, it's not too crowded anymore, Disneyland's a blast, and no one's mobbing us!"

The couple smiled curiously. "Why would anyone want to mob you?" the man asked. (Good question.)

We explained about Lisa and the Angels. The man and woman were both delighted.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" the woman cried. "We don't know much about modern music, but our lovely granddaughter Anna does. Would you mind giving us an autograph? I'm sure she would appreciate it."

So Stacie and I each signed a piece of paper for Anna. By that time, the ride had started, so I settled back and watched the colorful, realistic-looking audio-animatronic animals and other jungle scenes. A "tour guide" explained everything as we floated along. It was a great ride. Every so often, the elderly man and woman would comment quietly to Stacie and me, or vice versa.

When the ride ended, the woman said, "Well, it was nice meeting you, although we missed one small detail!"

I was confused. "What?"

She grinned. "Your names!"

"Oh!" I laughed. "June Wilcok."

"I'm Stacie Barnes," Stacie said.

"Linda Davenport," the woman smiled.

"And I am her husband, Jim. What place are you two staying at?" Mr. Davenport added.

We told him. He looked disappointed. "Oh. We're staying at the Galaxy Inn. I don't believe they're close enough for us to meet again."

"Well," Stacie ventured. "We could always see each other in Disneyland again. How long will you be here?"

"Two more days," Mrs. Davenport answered.

"Oh." I was disappointed. Tuesday and Wednesday were among the amusement park's busiest days, especially in July. "Well, once again, it was nice meeting you."

"Yeah," Stacie agreed. "Maybe we will see each other again!"

The Davenports laughed. "Bye, girls."

"Bye." We went our separate ways.

(Whatever that was. I'm pretty sure they did come back somehow in the original version, but I don't remember why.)

"They were really nice," I said as Stacie and I walked to New Orleans Square. "Too bad they're not staying at our motel."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Well, we have twenty-five minutes left. Want to ride Pirates of the Caribbean?"

I enthusiastically agreed. Pirates of the Caribbean was another water ride, with audio-animatronics. It was different than the Jungle Cruise in the aspect that all of the characters were part of -- what else? -- a pirate theme, and the ride was indoors. But you know what? So far, I think it was my favorite ride at Disneyland! I laughed out loud through most of it, and I even enjoyed the two short trips down flumes. (Unlike the huge drop in Splash Mountain, which I had ridden earlier.)

After the ride, we made another trip to Adventureland, where we bought fresh pineapple spears at a snack bar. By then, it was time to start heading toward the exit, which we did. Along the way, Stacie bought a deck of Mickey Mouse playing cards, and I bought the second piece of my perfect Disney souvenir collection -- a booklet of twelve Disney scenes.

"You know what? I think it's been a perfect day," Stacie commented as we walked into the immense parking lot.

I thought about our peaceful motel, and the beauty and excitement of the Magic Kingdom, and the success of the concert, and the Davenports, and my souvenirs.

I couldn't agree more.

Chapter Seven - Jennifer

Well, day one at Disneyland was a big success for everyone involved in this particular group. So was day two, I suppose. Only instead of a "big" success, I'd call it a busy success...

Things started to get hectic early in the morning. Shari, my friend from the school group, decided it would be okay if she came and got me at eight in the morning. I wasn't as willing to go as she'd hoped, due to the fact that I'd gone to bed at two in the morning...

But I went anyway. That's when the excitement really started!

(Oh, Lisa, you can have this picture Shari took of me during our adventure. I'm not just giving it to you to take up space so I don't have to write in your journal. Really, I'm not!)

(Following this is a drawn picture of Jennifer that I wish I could scan. She has freakishly short arms, a long ponytail, and for some reason her mouth is open in an "O." She's also standing in front of of some palm trees and some buildings that say things like "hotel" and "eatery." Jennifer is shorter than the trees, but taller than all of the buildings.)

"Jennifer! Psst! Jennifer Owens!"

My eyes flew open. Was somebody calling me? Next to me, Christine was sound asleep, and in the bed across from me, Rick Ballis (the saxophonist) and Leonard Hope (the guitarist) were also dead to the world.

(More fourteen-year-old girls with adult male roommates ... so, so inappropriate! At least it wasn't Racquelle, with her crush on Rick Ballis ... that would have been a disaster in the making.)

"Jennifer!" This time, the voice was followed by an impatient tapping.

I sat up groggily. Who would want anything to do with me at this hour?

"JENNIFER!" the voice insisted in a loud whisper. "I'm outside! It's Shari!"

I rolled my eyes, climbed out of bed, tiptoed over to the door, and stepped outside. Shari Ashley stood grinning at me.

"Do you know what time it is?" I hissed.

She shrugged. "Sure. Eight o'clock."

"Eight?" I replied disbelievingly. I looked around. Sure enough, the sun was shining in its unique California brightness, and a flow of people crowded the sidewalks. Still, it felt like it was about six o'clock.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Shari ginned again. "Miss Lawrence and I are the only ones awake in our group. I asked her if I could go get you and if just the two of us could walk to Disneyland. She said yes, because you're fourteen. Like fourteen's all that much older than twelve. Oh, well, I'm glad she said yes. What do you say?"

I looked at Shari's eager face. Walking to and around the park without any adults did sound appealing. But I was awfully tired. My friends and I had chatted until almost two o'clock the previous evening.

I said the first thing that came to mind. "Is Disneyland even open yet?"

"Well, not quite yet," Shari replied. "But I thought we could get a quick breakfast -- I brought money -- and then get to the gates early so we'll have first dibs on all the rides!"

The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. So I said, "Well, okay. But I have to tell Miss Jewell."

Shari waved her hand. "There isn't time for that. We might wake someone up, and then they'll want to come with us. Just leave a note."

I shrugged. Then I stepped back inside, changed (I hope it was in a locked bathroom!), and scribbled a quick note. I was ready to go!

My exhaustion vanished as Shari and I headed away from Stovall's Inn, talking and giggling up a storm. I had to admit, it was fun being with a friend who lived three-thousand miles away!

"So where do you want to get breakfast?" Shari asked. "California Bistro? IHOP? Or should we go try one of those restaurants at the Disneyland Hotel?"

I hesitated. I hated to think of all the fat grams and calories loaded into all of those restaurant breakfasts.

It doesn't matter, I scolded myself. You'll be walking all day.

(The previous summer, I had been hospitalized due to anorexia nervosa. Now I was pretty much cured, but "fat" worries almost always crept into my mind.)

(I read even more books back then about anorexia than I did about child abuse.)

"Well?" Shari pressed. "Don't worry about money. Or are you still anorexic ... whoops." Shari slapped her hand across her mouth.

I grinned. "Let's go to California Bistro. And order something loaded with calories."

We headed for the restaurant, a place conveniently located right across the street from Disneyland. Just as I was about to pull open the door, I heard a scream escape from Shari.

Startled, I turned. A dirty-looking man was standing next to me.

"Sorry!" Shari grinned. "You scared me when you tapped me on the shoulder like that."

The man grinned back. "Excuse me, miss, but does either of you have a dollar to spare? My car was stolen last night ... I'm from Kansas ... now my wife and I have no place to stay ... I just need a dollar to buy a doughnut from that coffee shop over there."

I glanced at Shari, and then at the man. He looked nice and honest, but his story seemed far-fetched. Where was his wife? Why wasn't he asking someone at the coffee shop for money?

Before I could say or do anything, Shari pulled a crumpled dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to the man. "Here you go, sir."

"Thank you. Um ... could you make it two dollars? A doughnut and coffee would help us immensely, ma'am..."

Shari paused briefly, then shrugged and handed the man another dollar. "Thank you," he repeated. "God bless you." He walked off.

(The above was based on a "real life anecdote" from my family's first trip to Disneyland, except the guy told my dad he wanted the dollar for a hot dog from AM/PM.)

"Shari!" I cried. "Why did you do that?"

"I felt sorry for him," she answered simply.

I sighed. "Shari, that was probably a con artist."

"Well, it's too late to get the money back now, so let's just get some breakfast," she replied cheerfully. "Come on." She pulled me inside the restaurant.

When we were seated, she asked, "Now, what do you want to get? See, there's pancakes and eggs and bacon. You can even get Peek-a-Boo Piggy from the kids' menu."

I peered at my options. Shari had just given those two dollars to the man, and she was paying for both of our breakfasts. The prices were very reasonable, but I just couldn't take all of Shari's souvenir money.

"I'll have a grapefruit or something," I announced joyfully. "I don't want you to spend..."

"Oh, no, you don't," Shari interrupted sternly. "I'm not going to be responsible for you going back to the hospital."

What? I thought. Then I got the picture.

"Shari, I promise you that I'm not going to go to the hospital. I'll eat a nice big lunch ... that I'll pay for."

**********************************************************************

And that's it! Sorry for the abrupt ending. By the way, I'm pretty sure my family ate at a place called California Bistro but I have no idea what "peek-a-boo piggy" is supposed to be. I do remember that somehow, in the original version, Jennifer and Shari ended up getting "locked" in Disneyland.

I'm not sure what I'll post next. I might take a break from Lisa and the Angels; I only have two of their stories left that I know of for sure!

The Performance, Part 4 (Kathy)

2008-11-18T02:33:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd do a quick update, then post the final two chapters of this (really just a chapter-and-a-half) later in the week. I wish I'd written more of it! Better yet, I wish I could find the original version of The Performance (written in 1990 or so) which DID have more to it. Sigh. Maybe someday.

Meanwhile, if you thought Racquelle was bad, wait until you read about her best friend Kathy, who's a little like Racquelle and Christie Wellman combined. (shudder)

However, I secretly kind of love Miss Jewell.

Chapter Five - Kathy

Oh, does Kathy Bell love California! It is terrif-a-jific! Absotively, posolutely wonder-nifi-cent! Fabu-tastic!

(Gigundoly super!)

I mostly can't wait until my 14th birthday party! I'm glad that school group is here, but it's going to be awfully hard to cram everyone around the pool. But I will anyway. I can't leave anyone out!

Oh, a pool party! I've never had anything like it!!!

Anyhow, we had to practice in the middle of the day today because our first concert is tonight! We'll be performing songs from our first album, including "My Best Friend", "It Should've Been You", "In the Land of Dreams", "Eerie Shadows", and my personal favorite, "Forever Mine"!

This is so exciting!!!

(For the record, the original version of The Performance included a chapter about Kathy's pool party, which ... didn't go very well. Poor Kathy.)

We were in Disneyland!!!

I couldn't believe it. After months of planning and waiting, we were finally here.

I looked around Main Street, a big grin on my face. I wanted to take it all in at once. It was so exciting, so...

"Kathy!" snapped my old friend Kristy O'Hara.

Oh, no, I thought. Oh, I was caught daydreaming! How mortifying, how...

I noticed Kristy, Becca, and Jennifer Worness staring at me impatiently, so I smiled and said sweetly, "Sorry."

"I'm glad we don't have a teacher with us," Kristy declared. (Kristy and Jennifer were a grade ahead of the oldest kids in the school group, so they were along as "junior helpers" or something (is that like junior CIT's?), which meant they didn't have to be assigned to a teacher-supervised group. Since Becca and I were their best New York friends, the four of us decided to walk around together.)

"What'll we do first?" Kristy continued. "I want to go on Star Tours!"

"Oh, but Kristy, won't you go on the carousel with me?" I asked. I had been dying to go on King Arthur's Carousel.

"Star Tours first," Kristy said firmly. "We're closer."

"Kristy," I whined.

"Wha-at?" she asked, sounding irritated.

"I WANNA GO ON THE CAROUSEL!" I screeched.

"Personally, I want to shop," spoke up Becca.

"Same here!" agreed Jennifer.

"NO, NO-NO, NO, NO, NO!" I yelled.

(No, Kathy was not supposed to be mentally challenged.)

"Will you shut up?" Kristy muttered. I glared at her.

Just then, Miss Jewell ran past us. "Lunchtime! Anywhere you want!" she yelled, and disappeared.

"Let's eat!" cried Becca.

We walked to the nearest restaurant, Plaza Inn, which was between Main Street and Tomorrowland. (Our map was helping us find everything easily.) Becca and I were using Disney dollars to pay for our food. Miss Jewell had paid for the Disney dollars. She's a wealthy woman, like myself. Still, I didn't want to spend too much of her money. I settled for a tuna salad and a Coke. They were scrumptious!

After lunch, I agreed to go on Star Tours, since it was so close by. I have to admit, it was a very neat ride!

We let Becca and Jennifer look around in the Star Trader, a shop right next to Star Tours. They didn't buy anything. So we rode the skyway (RIP) to Fantasyland ... to experience King Arthur's Carousel!

It was everything I thought it would be and more. I wanted to ride it again and again.

But we didn't have time for that. Becca wanted to ride Pinnochio's Daring Journey and Jennifer wanted to try Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

They were both neat rides. I was all set to request the spinning teacups when Jennifer whined, "Can I please buy something from Tinkerbell Toy Shoppe?"

"I want to buy a camera at Kodak Kiosk," added Becca.

(I had a little Disneyland guide handy when I was writing this, in case you couldn't tell.)

"Fine," grumbled Kristy, who also wanted to go on rides.

But I switched gears quickly. Maybe Becca and Jennifer were buying presents for me!

"Sure!" I cried happily. "Go ahead and shop!"

We went to Tinkerbell Toy Shoppe first, since it was closer. Right away, I noticed an adorable puppet.

"Look at this Pinnochio puppet," I said to Jennifer. "It's so exquisite, such carefully featured..."

"It's thirty-seven dollars," Jennifer said bluntly.

I sighed.

(You barely even know each other, Kathy. She's Becca's one friend, remember?)

A few minutes later, I saw something else -- a huge stuffed dalmation from 101 Dalmations. "Look at this huge stuffed dalmation from 101 Dalmations," I said to Kristy. "He's so cute! I'd like to find him in one of my birthday packages."

"Look how much it is, Kathy!" Kristy practically shouted.

Darn it! I thought.

Jennifer ended up buying a stuffed Cheshire cat. Then we went to Kodak Kiosk, where Becca bought her camera and Kristy bought some film.

By that time, Becca and I realized that we had only ten minutes to get back to the hotel for concert practice. We took the shuttle bus back to Stovall's Inn, but it was still another thirty minutes before we entered Miss Jewell's room. (Of course it makes so much sense for them to warm up there).

"It's about time!" Carrie cried when she saw us.

"I wouldn't talk, Carrie," Cyndi said jokingly. "You just came in about five minutes ago because you were so busy talking to that guy..."

"Fine, fine," Miss Jewell interrupted."Let's get down to business. What's the schedule for tonight?"

"Here," said Lisa, handing her a typed sheet. I peeked over Miss Jewell's shoulder. This was our official seven-day schedule:

(Snipped because I don't feel like typing the titles of all of Lisa and the Angels' songs. However, the schedule shows they have a "covers night" on Day Five, which includes such classics as "Forever Your Girl" by Paula Abdul, "Foolish Beat" by Debbie Gibson, "You're the Inspiration" by Chicago, "Eternal Flame" by the Bangles, "Soul Provider" by Michael Bolton, and -- oh, good lord -- "Tom's Diner" by Suzanne Vega.)

Miss Jewell caught me looking over her shoulder. "KMB!" she cried. "Get crackin'!"

(KMB are my initials. Miss Jewell does that sometimes. I don't know why.)

"Lisa, put on the tape!" Miss Jewell ordered.

"But where's the band?" I whined. (I prefer live music to canned music.)

"Do you think we can fit a band in here, KMB? They're at Disneyland, warming up."

"Okay, MLJ," I snapped. (I was embarrassed by her rudeness to me. And "L" stands for Lynne, Miss Jewell's middle name.)

(Marianne Lynne Jewell? What kind of name is that?)

Carrie snickered after I said that. Miss Jewell glared at her and clapped her hands.

"We haven't got all day! The concert is tonight, remember! Spit-spot!"

"Okay, Mary Poppins. I thought the concert was next month," Becca whispered sarcastically to me. I giggled.

"Spit-spot! LRM! RAA!!!"

"WHAT?!!" Racquelle screeched, nearly deafening me.

"GET DOWN TO BUSINESS!!!!" Miss Jewell roared in an even louder voice.

"Jeez, Racquelle and Miss Jewell, the whole hotel's going to hear you," Jennifer commented. "Then they'll come down and bombard us and ask us for our autographs."

I giggled again. This time, Miss Jewell's glare was focused on me!

"KMB! IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU'LL CRACK DOWN!"

"Okay," I muttered.

We began the scales (snicker), and I stifled a sigh. Disneyland was looking better every minute!

**********************************************************************
Up next -- Lisa and the Angels perform! (For real this time.)

Also, in case you feel like commenting but don't have a Blogger/Gmail/AOL account, I changed the settings so that everyone can post, even if you're anonymous. Thanks again for the comments.:-)

The Performance, Part 3 (Racquelle and Carrie)

2008-11-15T00:10:00.000-08:00

I'm not the only person in my family who once authored a series. My sister wrote some books, too, at the same time that I was writing about Lisa and the Angels. I don't remember if her series had a theme (I think it was just about some random group of girls from L.A.) but I know the stories were classic! Someone fell down a hole in one of them. I remember that.

Anyway, I'm sad to say that NONE of my sister's stories seem to have survived the test of time. However, a few of her characters live on through Lisa and the Angels! That's right; there are at least three books between us that we wrote, which included some "special appearances" from each other's characters.

In The Singers (the long-lost book where Lisa and the Angels first performed in L.A.) they met my sister's characters for the first time. Then, her characters made a reappearance in this story that you're reading right now; PLUS my sister started writing what was more-or-less her own version of The Performance. It had the same "plot", only narrated from her characters' point-of-view.

Sorry, I don't know if any of that made sense! But if you're wondering who all the newbies in these next couple of chapters are, just know they appear courtesy of "mntill."

(Also, I think these two chapters must hold some kind of record for including the most adjectives of the word "said.")

Chapter Three - Racquelle

Lisa says we have to write in her journal. Lisa's not my boss, so I'm only doing it because I think it's a good idea.

Today we finally got to our hotel. I was so glad to get out into the fresh, afternoon California air...

It was five-ten in New York when we stepped out into Anaheim, but only two-ten in California!

We're staying at a place called Stovall's Inn, which is a Best Western. It has lots of great free stuff...

I just love to travel!

(The only annoying thing is this school group that's staying in our motel. They keep shouting and stomping. I wish they would shut up. Maybe I will make them.)

"Attention, please. Our next station stop will be Anaheim. If you plan to detrain in Anaheim, please check the seats around you so you don't leave any personal belongings behind. Thank you for traveling on the Amtrak San Diegan."

Everybody in our group began to screech. We were on the seventh and final train, almost in ... Anaheim!

Quickly, I pulled out my little red pocket mirror and checked my appearance. My skin needed a tan like a man in the desert needs water, but the rest of my outer self looked pretty good for California. My short hair was smooth, straight, and -- lucky for me -- pale blonde. (As we all know, blonde hair is Prerequisite #1 for being a real California Girl...good thing Racquelle was based on a Barbie doll.) My blue eyes were twinkling, and my makeup was applied perfectly. I winked at my reflection.

"Put that mirror away, Racquelle," scolded Jennifer. "We've gotta gather up our luggage!"

"I'm so excited!" squealed Kathy, who was sitting beside me.

"Yes, me, too," I answered coolly. I folded my mirror and placed it back in my pocket.

Ten minutes later, we were stepping out into the hot, California sun. "Aahh," breathed Kathy. "The moment I've been waiting for."

I had to agree.

The train station wasn't nearly as crowded as the one we left behind in Albany. Across the street, some supposedly famous baseball stadium stood tall. My friends tried to persuade me to run to the window and admire it with them, but I declined. California girls didn't care about sports, at least not the kind of California girl I hoped to become.

Miss Jewell had to call five taxis to take us all to Stovall's Inn. I ended up in a taxi with Leonard Hope (our guitar player), Stacie, and June. (I wish we could have rented a limousine, since we're celebrities and all.)

"It's lovely out here," I said to the cab driver as we cruised along. It really was. There were more hotels and restaurants than I'd anticipated, but the weather was warm, the palm trees were swaying, and the people all looked happy.

(Do palm trees really "sway" in Anaheim?)

"Have you lived here a long time?" Leonard asked.

"Leonard Hope, you know very well that I live in New York..." I began.

"Not you, Racquelle," June hissed.

"Oh," I muttered.

The taxi driver answered Leonard's question as he pulled into the parking lot of Stovall's Inn. He stopped, and I stepped out of the cab. The taxi driver handed me my bags.

"Thank you," I told him warmly.

The rest of the taxis drove up, and everybody gathered their luggage. Then we crowded into the lobby while Miss Jewell registered us.

I discovered that I had been assigned to Room 303, with Cyndi, Christie, and Miss Jewell herself. The room was one half of a suite. (The other half held Carrie, Lisa, George Howard the drummist, and Bobby Lawrence the keyboardist.)

(Okay, WHAT? Did I just write that two grown men were sharing a room with two 14-year-old girls?!?! How utterly wrong can you get?! I was a little ... er, sheltered at 14.)

"Look at this room," I commented when we entered it. "It's nice!" The room was decorated mainly in pink and gray. It held a table, three chairs, a desk, a dresser, two huge beds, a night table, and a big sink. On top of the sink sat a small freezer. On top of the dresser sat a television set, and on top of the table perched a phone. Off to the side was a bathroom with a shower.

"Homey," I said aloud. "And comfort-"

"Look!" cried Christie, interrupting me. "Free stuff!"

(Like five-year-old Christie would know or care if something was free.)

I gasped. Even though I come from a wealthy family, I just adore anything free. And sure enough, next to the sink was a little basket full of soap, cups, two plastic coffee mugs, some shower caps, shampoo, some plastic bags, and some sugar, cream, and coffee beans. All complimentary! Next to the basket, there was even a small coffee machine.

"I call the coffee machine!" I cried.

"Uh ... I'm sorry to disappoint you, Racquelle, but I don't believe it is free," Miss Jewell said gently.

"What?" I gasped.

"Why don't you check the drawers for more free things?" she suggested hurriedly.

"Good idea!" I exclaimed.

I opened the night table drawer, and found a Bible that was not free. But in the desk drawer, there was a free bag full of free hotel stationery, two postcards, and two envelopes. And on the table I found a free TV guide, some coupons, and a guest directory. I even found a coupon for Venice Pizza on the floor.

The only other items I found that weren't free besides the Bible and coffee machine (and the furniture, of course) were three local phone books in the top dresser drawer. But that was okay. My roommates let me have two bars of soap, a shower cap, a bottle of shampoo, all the plastic bags (ooh, score, Racquelle!), two pieces of stationery, one of the postcards, one of the envelopes, and the guest directory!

I had not taken a shower since we left Albany (ew!), and I felt disgustingly grimy. But Cyndi hogged the shower first!

That made me mad. I decided not to fight, though. At least not until I had to.

I finally made it to the shower, and washed and washed. Afterwards, I realized I was exhausted. My poor, confused body had experienced all of the time zones in the continental states in just three days, and we kept on changing trains during sleeping hours. I put on one of my bright L.A.-type outfits and flopped onto the soft, comfortable bed I shared with Cyndi, where I immediately fell asleep.

***

I woke up to the sound of loud stomping above me. At first I thought it was my youngest (adopted!) siblings, Hobart and Lin. Then I remembered I was in California!

"What's going on?" I murmured.

"There's a school group here at the motel," Cyndi's voice answered. "They've been making noise all afternoon."

I sat up. "That's crazy! A school group? It's summertime!"

Cyndi, who was watching a movie on HBO, shrugged. "It's a school group. The desk manager told Miss Jewell."

Well, this did not make me very happy at all. I tried to ignore the constant stomping and shouting above me as I ate the delicious pizza Miss Jewell ordered from Venice Pizza with our coupon, and as we talked about our plans for the next day, and as we watched a movie, and even as I fell asleep. But it was nearly impossible.

The next morning, the noise had actually stopped. My friends, Miss Jewell, Christie, and I ate a quick breakfast at the nearby International House of Pancakes. (The band members and dancers were free to eat where and when they pleased.)

(Isn't that nice of Miss Jewell to let them.)

When we returned to the motel, the noise had started up again. I was really losing my temper.

And before I knew it, I instinctively dashed outside and up the flight of stairs that led to the room above ours. I turned the knob of the door. It opened!

I had already gone this far, so I stuck my head in the doorway and yelled, "Stop making noise!"

A familiar voice answered, "Leave us alone, Racquelle ... wait a minute." I couldn't believe my eyes when a puzzled-looking ... Erin Heart appeared. "Racquelle!" she cried. "It is you! What are you doing here?"

Erin Heart is one of the good friends we made in L.A. last summer. (Here come my sister's characters!) Her friend Amy Asberg won a radio contest to meet us, and we met Erin and ten other girls through Amy. Just like Amy became my best California friend, Erin became Carrie's. They have a lot in common.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder and answered Erin. "I'm staying here in California for two weeks. With the group. We're performing at Disneyland."

"Wow!" she cried. "This is unbelievable! I'm staying in this motel for two weeks, too."

(What a ~~contrivance~~ coincidence!)

"Well ... well, great!" I exclaimed. This was pretty exciting news. "Want to see Carrie and everyone else?" I asked.

"Of course!" Erin cried. She got permission from her mother to come to our rooms. As we headed down there, I explained more about Lisa and the Angels' plans, and she told me about the trip that a small group at her school had earned for writing prize-winning essays or something. The school group was only staying for a week officially, but Erin, her mother and sisters, six of the friends we had made last summer, and three other girls would continue to stay in the motel to see other California attractions ... just like us!

I knocked regally on our door. Miss Jewell answered, a panicked expression on our face. "Racquelle," she scolded. "Don't you ever run off like th... oh, my! Erin Heart!"

"Miss Jewell," Erin replied, grinning.

"Come in, come in." Miss Jewell ushered us inside.

"Erin!" Cyndi cried from the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Erin explained about the school group. "Wow!" Cyndi exclaimed. "That's amazing! Lynn wrote and said a group from her school was going on a trip, but I never thought it would be to Disneyland ... much less, to our own motel!"

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," Erin agreed. "We couldn't afford to go to another state, or even to the Disneyland Hotel. But next week, Mom says we're gonna experience California from the eyes of a tourist. We're not even going home to see the other sights. It sounds really fun, all of the trip."

(Whatever, Erin. Mntill and I needed to think of a better way to incorporate her characters. This is so contrived it hurts.)

What was more exciting, we discovered, was that Erin's five-year-old sister Kristine was with her. Kristine had exchanged a few "letters" with Christie Wellman, and now they could meet!

(Oh, goody, another brat.)

"Do you want me to go get her, Amy, and the rest of them?" Erin asked.

"Yes!" Cyndi and I agreed enthusiastically.

"But, Erin," I added.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"One more thing. Can you tell your school group to keep it down just a little?"

__

(There's Racquelle's chapter. It's late and I'm still wide awake, so I might as well post the next one, too.)
__

Chapter Four - Carrie

Hi, Lisa!

I can't believe it, not only Erin is here, but Amy, Debbie, Jennifer, Kristy, Liza, and Shari, too! It's too bad Katy, Lynn, Tara, Cheryl, and Marie couldn't come. Then it would have been just like last summer!

Still, there's some great other people, including Shari's sister Michelle. She's terrific! I'm just surprised any of them are here!

Meeting up with our old friends delayed us a little, what with Racquelle, Kathy, Lisa, Jennifer, and I joining our best friends from last summer, and Cyndi meeting Michelle. Becca even reunited with Jennifer Worness, who was actually her childhood best friend!

But soon we were off to...

The greatest amusement park ever ...

The happiest place on earth ...

DISNEYLAND!!!

When Cyndi told me about all our old friends, I was just shocked. But I recovered quickly.

With the exception of June and Stacie, the members of Lisa and the Angels raced upstairs for some reunions. (June hadn't even known us last summer, and Stacie's best L.A. friend, Marie Yamstazankie, wasn't with the school group.)

Racquelle met up with Amy Asberg. Kathy and Lisa found their friends, Kristy O'Hara and Liza Martineez, in a room together. Christine decided to visit Debbie Rogers. (Christine's friend Katy Olsen wasn't with the school group, either, but Christine and Debbie had met in L.A. and liked each other.) Cyndi's friend Lynn Garcia was also missing from the group, but Cyndi decided to meet Shari Ashley's sister Michelle, who we hadn't met last year. (So she just bursts in Michelle's room all, "Hi, I'm Cyndi, let's hang out!"?) Jennifer found Shari, who had been her good friend. And Becca happily discovered her very old friend, Jennifer Worness. Even Christie met up with Erin's sister Kristine!

(Wow, a Christine Hart and a Kristine Heart, plus a Kristy and another Jennifer. Mntill and I weren't the most original when it came to names. Why do these girls only have one friend each?)

Erin, Christie, Kristine, and I crowded into the hotel room that Erin and Kristine shared with their mom and their three-year-old sister, Emily. We started a wonderful conversation about Disneyland.

"Are you gonna go on Space Mountain?" Erin asked me.

I nodded emphatically, being Lisa and the Angels' resident roller-coaster freak. Erin grinned. "Me, too!"

"But that's not the best part," I said slyly. Erin's grin widened. She knew what I was thinking.

"Disneyland probably holds thousands of boys," she began.

"Girls!" Mrs. Heart called from the adjoining bathroom.

"What, Mommy?" asked Kristine.

"We're leaving now. Would you like Carrie and Christie to walk around with us?"

"Yeah!" Erin cried. She looked at me. "I mean, if that's okay..."

"I'd love it," I replied. (At least for today, I thought. I didn't really want to spend all my trip with three little kids.)

Mrs. Heart smiled warmly. "I'll go ask Marianne Jewell if you two can come with us."

About five minutes later, she returned. "I hope you have your foot spray on, girls, and walking shoes," she announced. "We're taking off."

The five of us cheered, quickly sprayed on some foot spray, and let the younger girls use the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, we were staring into the gates of Disneyland!

***

"Look! It's Mickey Mouse!"

"A movie 'feater!"

"Donald Duck, Mommy, Donald Duck!"

We were strolling down Main Street, the first area of Disneyland. The little kids were going crazy, and I couldn't blame them. It was truly an enchanting place!

"Can we buy a magic trick, Mommy?" Kristine asked.

"We want to go on Space Mountain!" Erin whined.

"Okay," said Mrs. Heart. "Space Mountain it is! We'll go shopping later, Kris."

I looked down at our map. "Space Mountain is in .. Tomorrowland!" I announced.

Tomorrowland was nearby, and easy to find. Space Mountain was located right next to Star Tours. Since it was still fairly early, the line wasn't too long. We rode up an escalator-like thing to the top of the "mountain", which was really a little building. Then we entered the building, and walked down a ramp. It took about twenty more minutes, but finally we were boarding our cars.

"Aughh!" Emily suddenly screamed. "No ride, Mommy! No ride!"

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Heart looked embarrassed. "Well, I don't think Emily fits the height requirement, anyway. I'd better take Christie and Kristine, too."

(Like they would have let them on in the first place. By the way, I'm sure Mrs. Wellman would just love to know that Christie is walking around Disneyland with some strange woman... unless Carrie counts as her "sitter.")

She and the little kids left just in the nick of time. The ride began the second they disappeared! It was, surprisingly, pretty slow at first.

"Whoa," I said to Erin. "This isn't like I thought it would be! It ..."

All of a sudden, we sped up to lightning pace! It was so cool ... it really felt like we were zooming through outer space.

Erin's mom and the girls were waiting outside the building. "Like it?" Mrs. Heart asked.

We answered with enthusiastic reviews. She smiled. "Good. Well, it's already time for lunch. Where do you want to go?"

We ended up getting sandwiches at a place called The Carnation Ice Cream Shop. They were delicious!

I was walking along, thinking about how pleasant this trip was, when I noticed something that made my heart flutter. "Look, Erin!" I hissed, pointing to the Star Tours line.

She stared, open-mouthed. "Whoa, baby!" she finally managed.

(Gag. Is she Kimmy Gibler?)

"Babe" was a good word to describe both of the ... identical twin boys we were gawking at. Blonde, with piercing green eyes, they looked about my age, and just a little older than Erin!

Erin turned to her mother. "Uh ... Mom? Would you mind if we went off on our own for awhile?"

Mrs. Heart smiled knowingly. "Tired of the kids, huh? That's fine, girls. Just meet me back in one hour, at Sleeping Beauty Castle."

"Ok!" we agreed. We hurried to the end of the Star Tours line, before anyone could block us from the babes.

"Oh, Carrie!" Erin squealed. "I just love this ride! Don't you?"

I gave her a strange look. "I've never even been on ..." She nudged me. I got the point. "Oh, yes. This is my very favorite!"

"Just think," said Erin. "If Lisa and the Angels hadn't planned their trip at the same time as Lawson School's, then I never would've met up with you, Carrie Packer, again!" (Spare me...)

I knew Erin was using my fame, but in this case, I didn't mind. Anyway, it worked! The boys turned around.

"Hi," one of them said. "I'm Bruce Reese. This is my brother, Brian." Brian grinned. Bruce continued. "Are you, by any chance, Carrie of Lisa and the Angels?"

"Sure am," I replied. "This is my friend, Erin Heart."

Bruce smiled at Erin. Brian smiled at me. I smiled back. I was melting.

"Wanna go on Star Tours with us?" Brian asked.

"You'll let us?" Erin teased.

"Of course!"

Suddenly, a snotty voice said, "Move forward, you boy-crazy girls and girl-crazy boys!"

I turned, and was surprised to see that it was Racquelle. She was standing with Amy Asberg, two other girls, two boys, and a woman -- the members of the school group Amy had been assigned to walk around with.

"MOVE!" Racquelle screeched.

I rolled my eyes, and obeyed. "Is that Racquelle?" Brian whispered in my ear.

I grinned, and whispered back, "How did you know?"

***

Star Tours was a pretty cool ride. Afterwards, the four of us exited the building, talking and laughing.

Brian and Bruce asked if they could treat us to a snack. We had just eaten, but we agreed, anyway.

As I sat across the table, gazing into Brian's eyes, I felt something happening inside me. (We don't want to know, Carrie.) He was a little quiet, but he was the nicest guy I had met in ages.

When we finished the food, Bruce said, "Carrie and Brian, do you mind if Erin and I go off on our own?"

"We have to meet my mom in ten minutes," Erin added. "But I know she won't care."

Brian looked at me. "I certainly don't mind, Carrie. Do you?"

That was a silly question. Of course I didn't mind! I was in love again!
(I'm surprised I didn't spell it "l-u-v.")

**************************************************************

Only a few chapters left of this one before it comes to an abrupt end. Up next -- Miss Jewell gets all dictatorish, and Lisa and the Angels perform!

The Performance, Part 2 (Cyndi)

2008-11-12T14:04:00.000-08:00

Here's a chapter narrated by Cyndi Wellman, the star of my very first Lisa and the Angels book! (My Own Pet.) Cyndi was also a candidate for the most boring member of Lisa and the Angels (though June, Jennifer, and Christine would give her a run for the money) but her family, which was "creatively" large and weird, made her somewhat more entertaining whenever they were around.

Christie Wellman needs to be sent to the corner, though.

Chapter Two - Cyndi

Here's my first entry for your journal, Lisa:

Today we boarded our first train, which leads to Detroit. It was cool! I've never been on a train before.

What I'd forgotten was how long it would take to California. This is our schedule:

(I'll spare you the much too long and detailed schedule, which features five days' worth of train changes, and of course includes every single boarding and departure time.)

Pretty heavy, right? It wasn't great at all that most of the train changes occurred during sleeping hours. To top that off, Christie was being very annoying! She kept singing "Moon River." She's just positive she'll meet Andy Williams.

Trains are okay, but after so many hours on them, I think I prefer flying.

"All aboard Amtrak! All aboard Amtra-ak," sang my little sister Christie, hopping from one foot to the other. We were at the Amtrak train station in Albany -- finally!

"We" meant all of Lisa and the Angels, all our families, Miss Jewell, all the band members, and our two dancers (what, ten people in the group, and they still need dancers?!). Together, that equalled seventy-three people. Along with the people traveling that weren't in our group and their families (most of whom were asking for our autographs), it made for a very crowded place!

My family was doing their best to embarrass me. "Oh, Cyndi, I'll miss you so much!" Mom wailed. She threw her arms around me.

(Obviously I'd read BSC Super Special #6 New York, New York! around this time.)

"I'll miss you, too, Mom," I said in a muffled voice.

"Are you warm enough?" she asked sternly.

"Yes," I sighed. I was wearing a cardigan and turtleneck, and it was summer!

Mom turned to Christie. "My little Christie, alone for the first time without me. Watch her, Cyndi."

"I will, Mom," I promised.

"I WISH I COULD COME WITH YOU!" screeched my ten-year-old sister, Anne. "DISNEYLAND, PALM TREES, PALM TREES, DISNEYLAND!"

"I WANNA COME, TOO!" screamed seven-year-old Marie.

"Quiet, girls!" Mom scolded. "Girls, quiet! Girls!"

"We're not even screaming anymore, you mean, silly Mommy," Marie retorted.

(Brat.)

During all this, my baby sisters -- one-year-old Emily, and Jennifer and Jessica, twin two-year-olds -- were waddling around examining everything in sight. Dad was standing in the middle of the floor, casually reading the paper.

At least my family was more normal than the Gibsons. Becca's dad was literally yelling at her seven-year-old sister Jessica, who was bawling. Jeremy, Jessica's twin, was laughing hysterically. (So many twins named Jessica ... gee, I wonder where I got that?) Four-year-old Tiffany was rolling her eyes around and around and crying, "Help! I'm eye-loose!," while fifteen-year-old Scott slumped sullenly in a chair. Ten-year-old Kellie galloped around all over the station, and Mrs. Gibson was weeping.

Poor Becca.

The Wilcoks were acting normal, but there are ten kids in the family, so they still created a stir. The Barnes, who have nine kids in their family, had the same problem. Henry Bell was getting cooed at by everyone, and Jennifer Owens' sister Lila pranced around, showing everyone magic tricks.

I never thought we would leave.

But we did, of course. I was just standing there when Miss Jewell announced, "The train is here. The train is here. Get all your stuff. Get all your stuff."

"Oh, Cyndi!" Mom bawled. "I'll miss you. You write! G-Goodbye."

"Goodbye, honey," Dad added, dropping his paper and engulfing me in a hug.

Everyone cried over Christie, but finally, we were all boarding the train. Without our families, there were only twenty-one of us, which meant we took up ten pairs of seats, plus one extra seat. I ended up next to Carrie, with a window seat.

(Okay, come on, you're famous pop stars, what's with sitting in coach? Get some roommettes, at least!)

The train began to move, and off we went! Christie and I waved to our family until they disappeared. (She and Miss Jewell were right behind Carrie and me.)

A man collected tickets, another man made some announcements over a loudspeaker, and another man passed out pillows. I leaned back and relaxed.

"Cool," I heard Carrie comment. "Look at the view. Oh, here's a little map and guide of our route until Detroit! There's a magazine, too, and some other stuff."

I thumbed through a boring magazine, and looked at the map/guide, which was pretty interesting. Then I started my journal entry, and made the schedule.

Carrie glanced at it and told me, "You forgot that we're going to be in different time zones. We'll get to Anaheim at five-ten New York time, but only two-ten California time."

"Huh?" I said blankly. I'd heard of time zones, but wasn't all that familiar with them.

"Remember L.A.? How it was three hours earlier than Albany..."

"Oh, yeah," I murmured. I studied my schedule. Boy, this would be confusing.

The next thing I knew, I was asleep. (Cyndi's so boring, she puts herself to sleep.) I woke up when that loudspeaker man was saying, "Our next station stop will be Syracuse in approximately eight minutes. If you plan to detrain in Syracuse, please check the seats around you so you don't leave any personal belongings behind. Thank you for traveling with Amtrak, and we hope you'll come back next time."

"Are we there yet?" Christie asked.

"Not even close," Kathy told her. "We have a long road ahead of us."

You're telling me, I thought.

***

That night, Miss Jewell told us to go to sleep at ten-o-clock. (New York time ... who knows what time it was in Detroit.) We would reach Detroit in just two hours, but people were starting to dim the lights, and she said we needed our rest.

It was really hard actually trying to fall asleep. (The other time, it had happened out of boredom.) I put my seat back as far as it would go, which wasn't very far. I was also freezing, and I didn't have a blanket, so I had to settle for my coat.

When I was semi-comfortable, I discovered it was almost impossible to sleep moving. I turned a couple of times.

"Ohhh," I heard a deep voice moan groggily. "Where are the girls? Blondes, brunettes..."

"Aughh!" Christie shrieked. "A ghost!"

"Ssshh," said Miss Jewell. "It's just Bobby, talking in his sleep." (Bobby was one of our keyboardists.)

(Bobby sounds creepy.)

I lay in silence for awhile. Then I heard Christie ask, "Miss Jewell? Aren't we gonna get on another train in Repoit?"

"Detroit," Miss Jewell corrected. "That will be soon. Go to sleep, hon."

Silence.

"Miss Jewell? Can I have some 7-Up?" Christie asked.

"Mmm... not now, Christie."

"I WANT SOME 7-UP!"

Miss Jewell sighed. I heard her get up and walk away. She came back about a minute later.

I heard something being poured into a cup. Then I heard a 'gulp, gulp' and finally I heard the cup being put down.

A second later, Christie's voice began to sing, "Moon river, wider than a mile..."

"Shut up, Christie," I muttered.

"No. You shut up, Cyndi."

"Both of you be quiet," Miss Jewell said firmly.

I actually fell asleep.

***

The next couple of days were long and boring.

Oh, the views from the window seats I always ended up with were beautiful. I probably saw half of the states.

But the only time we could leave the trains was when were switching to a new one. It got very hot and stuffy after awhile.

(Oh, Cyndi, I'm sure there were at least a few extended "smoke stops" along the way. Stop whining.)

I spent the days in the train reading my guide to the stars' homes in Beverly Hills (I couldn't wait to see those), staring out the window, writing letters to my pen pals, and talking to my friends.

By Sunday, however, I was fed up with the routine. We were in California by then, but hours and miles away from Los Angeles.

I woke up and found myself moving. Oh, boy, I thought. Will we ever get to our motel?

I brightened when I saw that we were in Sacramento, but then Christie started to sing for the six-millionth time, "Moon river, wider..."

"Christie, shut up!" I ordered. "I am tired of that song!"

"Okay," Christie agreed. She paused and went into another song. "Once I was alone ... so lonely, and then..."

(Some song called "Canadian Sunset"; apparently I knew it at a time, but I had to google it!)

"CHRISTIE!"

"Ssshh!" some strange lady hissed, swiveling around in her seat and glaring at me.

I stifled a groan.

Miss Jewell passed out stale muffins for breakfast. I ate mine, and promptly fell asleep. (I was used to sleeping on a train by now.)

When I woke up, we were somewhere near the middle of California. Lisa, Becca, Stacie, June, and Christine were asleep. Carrie was engrossed in a crossword puzzle book, Jennifer was reading, Kathy wasn't even around (she was probably in the lounge car), and Racquelle (who was behind me) was staring out the window.

"So," I said to her. "You're bored, too?"

She gasped. "CYNDI! I was engrossed in a daydream! HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT ME!"

"Sorry," I snapped.

"Moon river, wider than a mile..."

"CHRISTIE!"

"Ssshh!" the woman in front of me demanded.

I sighed, and closed my eyes. Sleeping was the only thing left to do until we got to Anaheim!

***********************************************************************************

I love how, just like Lisa's, Cyndi's chapter ends with her sighing and thinking how she can't wait to get to Anaheim/the hotel. At least I didn't end their chapters simply with the words "I sighed." (Which I know I did in more than one earlier book, even when it made no sense.)

Coming up next ... the characters from my sister's stories make a contrived appeareance! Also... Racquelle! (As the "nerdy" Angels, I thought Racquelle and Kathy were the most fun to write and read about.)

The Performance, Part 1 (Lisa)

2008-11-10T23:37:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm a little sad that the dramatic conclusion to Carrie and the Search For a Friend didn't get any comments. But let's face it, that ending sucked big time! Plus my fiancee says that he tried to comment and it wouldn't show up. So who knows, maybe there was just something going on with Blogger.

Anyway, I thought I'd move on to the next story. This one was never finished. However, it does bear the dubious honor of being started TWICE! Unfortunately, I lost my first attempt; I'm hoping it'll turn up again someday, maybe in the depths of my parents' garage. But here's the second draft of The Performance (can a title BE any more generic?), AKA "Lisa and the Angels Go to Disneyland."

I wrote this one when I was about 14. (I'm a little embarrassed that I was still writing Lisa and the Angels stories at that age.) It's a Super Special, so you'll get to know some of the other girls besides Carrie. Woo-hoo!

Of course, in true BSC fashion, we begin with a prologue...

***
Our Trip to Disneyland
by Lisa McOrrill

Okay, so I sing about a million times better than I write.

In fact, once Mrs. Thompson, my English teacher, made me rewrite a paper five times, it was so bad.

But I have a dream vacation ahead of me -- two weeks in bright, sunny California. And I really want to keep a record of each minute so I'll have something to look back on when it's dreary and snowy in my current residence: Albany, New York.

(Does it snow much in Albany? I wouldn't know, I've never been there. Also, shut up, Lisa.)

So here goes. Thus begins the journal of Lisa and the Angels' trip to California!

I am the Lisa of Lisa and the Angels -- Lisa McOrrill, to be exact. My nine best friends and I make up the teen pop singing group. I wouldn't call us the next Beatles or anything, but we've had a lot of success so far.

(Isn't she modest. Yes, by this point, there were TEN members of Lisa and the Angels -- the original six, plus four other girls who you'll read about soon enough.)

Actually, this wasn't even our first journey to California together. Last summer, we held a fabulous concert in Los Angeles, and spent another week and a half just touring the city. We never left L.A., however. This time, we would be spending the first week performing in the magical Disneyland. The second week, we'll travel back to L.A., Beverly Hills, Burbank ... maybe even to San Diego and Santa Barbara, even though Becca says they're too far away.

(Lisa and the Angels = so great they only play one show a year. Um, Lisa, Beverly Hills is L.A. Part of it, at least. I think Burbank is, too, although I'm not 100 % up on my California knowledge. I'm no Dawn Schafer.)

I'm kind of wary about one aspect of the trip. See, six months ago, in January, Cyndi's five-year-old sister Christie was in the Little Miss New York pageant, and she actually won! Her big prize was a trip to anywhere in the U.S.A; all expenses paid, as long as the trip was taken within a year. Of course, when Christie heard about Disneyland, she decided that she just had to come along. Miss Jewell, our manager/producer and trip organizer agreed that she could join us. I'm not sure if I should be happy. Christie's a sweet kid, but she can be a real pest. (Sorry, Cyndi.)

(What a nice thing to write in a journal that Christie's family will probably read ... I really wish I could find Little Christie, which was all about that pageant and which I actually did finish!)

Anyway, we'll be staying at a small little motel -- Stovall's Inn -- but it will still be nice. The motel is only a block or two away from Disneyland!

(Miss Jewell was too cheap for the Disneyland Hotel.)

Oh, I can't wait to get to California and the Happiest Place on Earth! I am going to ride Space Mountain, the Matterhorn, Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Pirates of the Caribbean, Splash Mountain... I'm thrilled about trying that huge drop!

Roller coasters ... games ... sun and fun ... palm trees ... I just can't wait!

Well, I'm off the subject again. I don't even know if there was a subject! I told you I'm a bad writer. (Insert self-deprecating comment here...) So I'll just go on to everybody's plans.

My very best friend, Becca Gibson -- a California native -- plans to shop, shop, shop til she drops, drops, drops! (That's her words.) Personally, I don't see how she can do that. I mean, shopping's okay, but you can do that anywhere!

Cyndi Wellman is dying to go to Beverly Hills and see all the stars' homes. (How original.) Good plan, Cyndi! I want to do that myself, along with going on every single ride at Disneyland, performing four-star concerts each night, going to Magic Mountain (we never got to go there during last year's L.A. trip), going to museums and movie theaters and every famous landmark I can think of, visiting the San Diego Zoo (if we were able), maybe going to Mexico...

Never mind, I've rambled for about the millionth time. Back to my friends' plans. Carrie Packer "just knows" she's going to meet another Southern California guy, just like Mark Kisdney -- maybe even Mark again! He's this great boy she met in L.A. They still keep in touch!

June Wilcok, our newest member, wants to build the ultimate collection of Disney souvenirs. Jennifer Owens just hopes she doesn't end up in the hospital, like she did in Los Angeles! Christine Hart plans to experience every single part of Disneyland, just like me. Lucky Kathy Bell, who will turn fourteen during our trip, is going to have a huge birthday party, which I am very excited about. Stacie Barnes plans to carry a petition everywhere she goes. What's the petition for? To stop cutting down trees! Afterward, she's going to send it to a logging company. Weird idea, Stace, but good one!

(Apparently Stacie IS Dawn Schafer.)

Racquelle Arlington is going to try to get a new California image, and even little Christie has plans -- to meet her idol, Andy Williams! (She thinks that with the exception of us, all famous people live in California.)

(Try Branson, Christie. By the way, her crush on Joe McIntyre died along with NKOTB's popularity; but where I got Andy Williams, I have no idea. In some books, she loves Burl Ives instead. Don't ask me.)

I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait!

California -- here we come!
-Lisa McOrrill

***
Chapter One - Lisa

It's here! Our trip has finally arrived!

Well ... almost.

Tomorrow we leave for two weeks of sunshine galore! Today was the day I began packing. Oh, it was tough. I couldn't decide whether to bring my blue cotton shorts or my black cutoffs. Should I take my striped T-shirt, or would it be tank top weather? And for swimming, would I need my red bikini or my pink one-piece? Would it be okay to pack jeans and sweatshirts, just in case it rained? What would be more comfortable to walk in, my Keds or my new white sandals?

Finally I decided to bring all of these things, plus more. It was time to pack train entertainment -- we would be on trains for over three days -- but first I had to look at my jewelry. Should I bring my real diamond ring or just my silver one? My 18-karat gold watch, or my emerald earrings? I want to look my best for California...

(Yes, Lisa, that's a great idea to bring all your fancy jewelry -- which, by the way, goes oh so well with your striped T-shirt and other clothes -- on a train. At least we're done with her journal entries.)

Have you ever tried to pack for a two-week long vacation? No doubt about it, it is hard work.

The day before the first train departed, I woke up at seven o'clock and immediately pulled out my suitcases. (I had wanted to get packing over with two weeks ago, but Mom wouldn't let me.) Then I yanked open all my dresser drawers and my closet door. Where should I start? I wondered.

My new black cutoffs caught my eye first. I knew they would be practical. I mean, I may be thirteen, but even thirty-year-olds spill.

Then I noticed my blue shorts. They would most likely be cooler than the cut-offs. It was California we were traveling to, and in summertime...

Why not pack both? I thought. Then I scolded myself. I only had so much room. I set both pairs of shorts aside.

I pulled a wrinkled pink tank top out of my top drawer. Black and pink is one of my favorite color combinations, and the top would go great with the cutoffs. Then I noticed a blue-and-white striped T-shirt that would look fabulous with my blue shorts ...

I hate packing.

In the end, I took: both pairs of shorts and eight more; both tops and six more (I was more likely to buy souvenir T-shirts than souvenir shorts); a pair of jeans; two sweatshirts; all three of my nightgowns and my two pairs of Esleep pajamas; four bathing suits; lots and lots of underwear; and four pairs of shoes. This took up one suitcase and a half. In the other half of the suitcase, I packed three books, some stationery and pens, my brush, my makeup and mirror set, my spare toothbrush and toothpaste, my Walkman, and as many tapes as I could cram in there. I absolutely adore music, and there was no way I could go without it for two weeks.

(Those must be some big suitcases. I hope Lisa doesn't plan to buy any souvenirs.)

This all took an hour and a half. I was sitting on my bed, tired and happy, when Mom called from downstairs in a singsong voice, "Lisa! Breakfast!"

Swell, I thought glumly. Along with being a professional singer, I am a pretty dedicated ballet dancer. Therefore, I really don't like to eat at all, and am quite thin. Mom isn't too happy with this. She's always bugging me about my weight, and preparing me huge meals that she knows I'll never finish. But really! I can't ever get fat, that's all. It's not like I think I am or anything.

(Mmm-hmm. Get therapy, Lisa.)

"Lisa!" Mom insisted.

"I'm coming!" I called back. On impulse, I grabbed my leotard, tights, and ballet slippers from the drawer and stuffed them into my suitcase. Then I ran down the three flighs of stairs that led to our first-floor kitchen. (There's a kitchen on the third floor, too, but it's much smaller. Due to my parents' jobs, we live in a four-story mansion and are what would be considered a "rich" family. My celebrity status doesn't hurt this, either.)

(Snob. Mr. and Mrs. McOrrill are totally living off Lisa's Lisa and the Angels money.)

I wasn't at all surprised to see a plate stuffed with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast, along with a tall glass of milk and a glass of orange juice. I sat down in my chair and sighed.

"Why, Lisa, whatever is the matter?" Mom asked innocently.

Please, I thought drily. "Nothing," I muttered aloud. I nibbled a piece of toast and stared wistfully at my sister Erin's plate, which held only half as much food as mine.

Erin caught me looking and smiled. She's a year and a half older than I am, and very sweet and pretty. "Lucky Lisa," she said. "Going to Disneyland. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," I replied. "But I'm so excited!"

"What time do we have to be at the train station again?" Dad spoke up.

"Nine thirty in the morning," I answered promptly. That first train would lead us only to Detroit. Then we would switch trains, and continue to switch in Chicago, Denver, Salt Lake City, Seattle, and finally Los Angeles, where would take a short ride (on another train) to Anaheim.

I think it would be much easier flying.

(Perhaps, but Lisa should count her blessings. I would kill to go on a cross-country train trip like that. Although Lisa's itinerary looks a little off. I know from recent experience that there aren't any trains that go directly from Salt Lake City to Seattle.)

"I wish I could come with you," Erin said. "We've never even been to Disney World."

"I know," I said sadly. "But don't worry. I'll bring you back a souvenir!"

***

After breakfast (I had to eat all of it) I was stuck with the task of trying to pass time and make the day go by fast. I decided to start by going to Kathy's house, which is just across the street from mine.

Her little brother Henry answered the door! He's two-and-a-half years old, and adorable. Henry talks slowly but he can talk. It's funny, because Henry's adopted, but he looks just like the Bells -- golden hair and those big, blue eyes.

"Hi, Henry!" I greeted him. "Is Kathy here?"

"Kaf-fy's up-stahs," he answered in his slow voice. He gazed up at me.

(Gag. Why are the Bells letting him run around by himself?)

I grinned. "Thanks. Can I come in?"

"Come-in." Henry held open the door. (What a gentlemanly two-year-old.) I stepped inside and closed it for him. Kathy's eight-year-old sister Mary appeared.

"Hello, Lisa," she said, nodding. "Kathy is upstairs, preparing for her journey. Mother and Father are not home at the moment."

"That's ok," I said. "Um ... can Kathy come downstairs?"

"I will ask her." Mary turned toward the stairs. "KATHY!!!"
I almost gigged at prim, proper Mary bellowing like that!

A few seconds later, Kathy appeared. "Yes? ... oh, hi, Lisa!" She hurried downstairs. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope. I just came over to talk," I replied.

"Tawk," Henry spoke up. "Tawk-to-me."

(Shut up, Henry.)

Mary smiled. "Come along, Henry, and let Kathy and Lisa be alone." She led her brother away. (Good old Mary.)

"So, are you finished packing?" Kathy asked, sitting gracefully onto an elegant sofa. (The Bells are also wealthy.)

I nodded. "It took me so long. I couldn't decide what to bring!"

"Me, neither. Um ... did you buy my present yet, Lisa? If not, I saw a very exquisite sweater..."

I laughed. "Kathy, I bought your present last week!" (I was giving her two mystery novels.)

Kathy pouted for a few seconds. (She's kind of immature and it can get very annoying.) Then she flipped her long golden hair behind her shoulder and said smugly, "I'm sure I will like your gift, whatever it is. Maybe Racquelle will buy me the sweater. She's rich enough."

For Pete's sake, Kathy thought I didn't have enough money?! I didn't want to start any fights, so I just said, "Yeah, maybe she will."

"What rides are you gonna go on?" Kathy asked, changing the subject.

I brightened. "Oh, all of them! Especially Space Mountain, the Matterhorn, Big Thunder Mountain, and Splash Mountain."

Kathy smiled. "The roller coasters. I want to go on King Arthur's Carousel first thing. I also want to go on Peter Pan's Flight, Snow White's Scary Adventures, and Pinnochio's Daring Journey."

"Is there a storybook section?" I asked curiously.

Kathy nodded. "Fantasyland. (Duh, Lisa.) There's eight different sections -- that one, Tomorrowland, Frontierland, Adventureland, Critter Country, New Orleans Square, Toontown, and Main Street."

"Cool, I didn't know that! Oh, I'm excited! Tomorrow at this time, we'll actally be on the train!"

Kathy grinned. "I hope tomorrow comes soon!"

She couldn't have been farther from the truth. Tuesday lasted forever. I went to all of my best friends' houses and called some of my other friends up, and it was still only four-thirty.

Erin invited me to the park with her and her friend Marianne Hart, Christine's sister. I gladly accepted. But when we got back, it ws still only six. I had to eat dinner, and for once I was glad -- eating took up time.

After I reluctantly swallowed my hamburger (I thought you were glad?) I got a fantastic idea. Becca could spend the night! That would make time pass quickly!

My parents and the Gibsons said Becca could come over. She was loaded with stuff, because she would not be going back to her own house before the train left. (Her family was coming to the station to see her off, though.)

Becca and I had a blast. The only annoying thing that happened was when Mom interrupted this movie we were watching to ask if I wanted a fruit-punch cupcake. I've never even heard of fruit-punch cupcakes. I said no. But Becca took three. (She does almost nothing but eat; still, she stays skinny. The lucky dog.)

"Lisa," Mom scolded. "Look at you!" She grabbed my wrist. "My thumb and my pinkie can go all the way around your wrist and there's still space left! You can't keep not eating. She looks as though she's starving, doesn't she, Rebecca?"

Becca grinned. She thinks Mom's funny.

"Lisa, you look more like a twig than a healthy girl. I want you to eat more like Rebecca on your trip. I don't want you coming home looking like those children over in Africa. You already look like you haven't been fed for three weeks ... right, Rebecca?"

Becca grinned. "Right."

Satisfied, Mom left. I glared at Becca, who was still grinning. "Stop," I ordered.

"Sorry," she chuckled. "Here ... want a cupcake?"

"No!" I snapped.

Becca frowned. "Come on, Lis. Don't be mad. Your mom's always bugged you. It's not my fault."

I sighed. She had a point. And how could I be mad when in 120 hours I would be in ... California!

****
Wow, that was long. Coming up next ... Lisa and the Angels slum it in coach seats! Also, Christie Wellman (Lisa and the Angels' version of Karen Brewer. Be warned.)

Carrie and the Search For a Friend - the VERY dramatic conclusion

2008-11-06T22:40:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure I was getting bored with writing about Carrie and Sandra by this point, or maybe I was just eager to finally finish another one of my stories. Either way, these last two chapters (especially the end) make the rest of the book look like absolute genius. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Chapter Ten

That night, after I took my bath, I ran downstairs.

"What's for dinner, Josephine?" I asked.

"Soup," said Josephine. "One spoonful of tomato soup."

I ate my spoonful of soup. When I was done, Josephine came inside the kitchen and yanked my hair.

"Come see this, you little brat!" She dragged me upstairs to the bathroom by the hair and threw me in the bathtub, which was still full of water. "You didn't let the water OUT!!!"

I tried to get out of the tub, but I couldn't. Josephine pushed my face into the water. She held it there for a long time. When I finally came up, I was coughing badly, and Josephine was laughing.

(Where did I GET this?!!)

I couldn't believe it. Josephine had practically drowned me and all she was doing was laughing!

I changed into some torn pants and a torn shirt and fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next day I woke up and ate a chocolate chip cookie. (Josephine said I could.) Then I got dressed. I decided to go to the Soda Shoppe by myself.

(Right after breakfast? Well, I suppose that cookie wouldn't be very filling... I'm surprised Josephine gave her a whole one!)

I ordered a root beer float and one of those mini strawberry cheesecakes. I sipped my float. Then I ate some of the ice cream on top of the float. I decided to stay out all day.

"CARRIE LYNN PACKER!" I heard Josephine's voice call outside.

(In my book, Josephine yells Carrie's name in letters so big they take up six whole pages! I was definitely eager to finish this.)

Uh-oh. I was in hot water now.

I looked around to see where she was. I saw her standing by a store called Lindsay's. I walked over there.

"Come with me!," she hissed. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside Lindsay's to the bathroom. She looked around. No one was there. She threw me against the wall.

"You rotten creep. You know you're not supposed to leave the house without my permission." She slapped me in the face.

(Uh, how did Josephine magically know Carrie was at the Soda Shoppe?)

Josephine and I walked home. Then she started yelling.

"I hate you, you good-for-nothing idiot! You're a creep!" She hit me on the hand so hard I started to bleed.

That did it.

"Do you think I like living with you? I hate child abuse! I've always hated child abuse! And now I'm a victim of child abuse!"

(You tell her, Carrie! On second thought...)

That did it for Josephine. She grabbed the whip. Uh-oh.

She kept on muttering things about making the whip hurt more. Oh, no.

"YOU!" She slashed me with the whip on my back. "ARE NOT GOING TO TALK LIKE THAT..." She slashed me again. "EVER AGAIN!" She slashed me one more time. By that time, I was on the ground in tears.

"I hate you, Josephine! I hate you!"

I ran and ran to Sandra's house. (Where else?) Mrs. Marcus wasn't there.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Sandra, it's my aunt!"

"What did she do this time?"

"Well ... she whipped me three times with a real whip! You know, one of those circus whips?"

Sandra's eyes were very round. "Golly, I never thought she'd do something like that. I thought you were just lying."

(snicker)

"I wasn't lying. Sandra, I hate that woman and I'm never going home again!"

Sandra just raised her eyebrows. "Carrie, do you want to go over to Harvey's house with me? I saw him yesterday. I know where he lives."

I shrugged. "Okay."

(Well, Carrie obviously isn't THAT traumatized by Josephine's whip.)

We walked about a block away to a yellow house. Sandra rang the bell.

Harvey answered. "Sandra! Hi, Carrie. Why don't you two come in?"

(That's how all 11-year-old boys talk.)

As soon as we were inside, Harvey and Sandra began to chat. I watched some soap opera. Finally, I heard the words, "Sandra, will you go out with me?" Sandra said yes, and soon we were on our way back to Sandra's house.

"Hey, Carrie. If Mom's home, why don't we ask her if we could go over to that lake at the bottom of Woodland. We could pack a picnic lunch and it will be real fun."

"Yeah," I said, grinning.

Mrs. Marcus said yes. She packed her own lunch and gave Sandra and I the same lunch: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread, one of those mini cartons of macaroni salad, a slice of cake, a chocolate chip cookie, and a thermos full of fruit punch.

(Healthy. I've lost count of how many chocolate chip cookies have appeared in this story.)

Soon we were at the park. We picked a table and sat down. "Let's eat first so it'll be out of the way," said Mrs. Marcus.

We ate peacefully. It was a pleasant summer day. There were a few clouds, and a nice, cool breeze, but the sun was shining.

Just as I was finishing the last of my macaroni salad, Sandra said, "Hey, Carrie, let's go over by the lake!"

"Okay," I said. We sat on the grass right by the lake. We were silent for awhile.

"Mmm," Sandra said a couple of minutes later. "Harvey is so cute!"

"Hmm," I said.

Sandra looked horrified. Then she grinned, and the next thing I knew, she pushed me in the lake!

My foot went down till it hit the bottom. I kept on going up and down in the water until I was in the middle. (huh?) Then Sandra waded to the middle and dunked my head.

"Ha, ha! Ha, ha! You're so stupid! I never liked you, Carrie Packer!," Sandra said gleefully. People everywhere were laughing and pointing.

I sat in the middle of the lake, shivering. Then I ran all the way home.

(That must be one shallow lake for Carrie to be able to sit in the middle of it. Poor, poor Carrie. Was Mrs. Marcus laughing and pointing, too?)

Chapter Eleven

"CARRIE LYNN PACKER!" Josephine yelled when I walked in the door.

"I'm sorry," I said in a tiny voice.

"SORRY! YOU JUST RAN OUT ON ME LIKE SOME KIND OF WHO KNOWS WHAT, AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS SORRY?" Josephine screeched. "Get out of my house! Now! NOW!!! NEOW!"

I ran out of the house, sobbing. It was no use anymore. I had no home to go to, no friends to turn to for help. I might as well just give up. Mom was killed instantly, but Dad just kind of ... gave up. Why shouldn't I?

I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I walked out into the middle of the street. A black sports car was coming toward me. I heard the screech of tires, and someone holler, "STOP!!!"

Then I was in the street, unconscious. There was a big cut in the middle of my forehead.

(Oh no! What kind of crazy people drive on that street? First Tabatha, now Carrie... )

The driver got out of the car, and people started coming out of their houses, including Josephine.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" (The driver?) "Is she dead?" "Make sure she's breathing!" "Call the police, dummies!" "Don't call people dummies, Christine."

Soon police cars and an ambulance were here. I was lifted in an ambulance by a stretcher and driven to the hospital. Only I wasn't awake to enjoy it.

At the hospital they did several things. (Like maybe questioned Josephine about why Carrie had finger marks on her arm and whip marks across her back?) They found out I had a bad concussion and was in a coma. I might not wake up from the coma, either ... ever.

I wasn't put in ICU, but I was in a thing kind of like ICU. (whatever that means...) I couldn't have any visitors that whole day, except Josephine.

Two hours later, they thought I wasn't going to make it. But one hour later, I guess I made some movement, because I could kind of hear the people talking.

About half an hour later, I opened my eyes and found Josephine's face peering into mine.

(Creepy!)

"Oh, Carrie!," she said. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! PLEASE!"

"Okay, okay."

"THANK YOU!"

***
Three days later, Cyndi dropped by. "Oh, Carrie!," she said. "I'm so sorry!"

"I'm sorry, Cyndi! I was so jerky for thinking Sandra was my friend. Sandra is about the worst friend anybody could get! I should just give up."

"Carrie, no! Nothing works when you give up. Believe me. Don't give up. Believe in yourself. Just believe in yourself."

(Oh, jeez...I apologize for this.)

"CARRIE!"

"Oh, that's Josephine. She's become so weird!"

"CARRIE! YOU GET TO GO HOME!"

Yea!

I knew I wasn't going to give up. Cyndi had told me that. Sandy would never have told me that.

I couldn't wait until I got home from the hospital. Everything would be back to normal.

The End

***

Okay, that was truly the worst ending EVER! Carrie can't wait until everything is "back to normal"? She wants to be starved and whipped and forced to wear bell bottoms and live in a Sesame Street room?

Actually, after Carrie and the Search For a Friend, Josephine turns into a "lovably wacky" aunt whose abusive history is virtually forgotten! BSC and Sweet Valley didn't care about continuity; why should I?

I'll leave you with the teaser that I wrote specially for the back of the book:

Carrie Packer wants a new friend. Her old friends are the ones who practically caused her parents' death!

Then Carrie meets Sandra. Sandy seems perfect. Carrie and Sandra hang out all the time.

But Carrie's real friends know the truth about Sandra. She's just using Carrie and might hurt her. But Carrie doesn't seem to notice because of her aunt Josephine.

Will Carrie's friends stop Sandra .. or will it be too late?

Coming up ... more fun with Lisa and the Angels! The next one will be a little less drama-filled. I hope that's alright.

Carrie and the Search For a Friend Pt. 4

2008-11-03T22:41:00.000-08:00

As promised, this next segment reveals the truth about Sandra Marcus! It's really shocking. You won't at all have seen it coming.

Also, Josephine is a little ... disturbing in Chapter 8 (though not as much as in Chapter 10, which I'll post later this week). Other than Don't Hurt Laurie, I don't remember specifically any of the books that I read about abuse -- though almost everything I wrote back then was influenced by some book or TV show. Were there beatings on "Little House on the Prarie"? I don't know. Anyway, whatever I read or watched that inspired Josephine, maybe I shouldn't have been reading or watching it!

With that said...

Chapter Seven

I was at the studio now, practicing for the concert.

"I never meant to hurt you..." Lisa was singing a song from our tape out right now, In the Land of Dreams. The song was called "My Best Friend."

(It was Lisa and the Angels' "biggest hit." I'll post the lyrics when I can.)

We finished practicing for the day and I left. But my friends (?) stayed. Cyndi told me about their conversation several days later.

(Well, thanks, Carrie. If you were wondering if she made up with her friends, I guess you don't have to wonder anymore.)

"I met Carrie's new friend today," said Stacie. "I was at Tabatha's funeral. So was she. Her name is Sandra. She seems very odd to me."

"Sandra what?" Lisa asked slowly.

"Marcus. Do you know her?"

Lisa clenched her fists and took a deep breath. "Sandy Marcus is the biggest snob I have ever seen! She's a backstabber and she hardly has any friends! She's liked this boy Harvey since about May but she hasn't been able to get him. She's used tons of girls to get to him, and she's ended up hurting all of them."

(Omg! But how does Lisa know all this and not Carrie? Lisa, Carrie, and Cyndi were all supposed to be the "popular" Angels. The other three were the nerds. In case you were wondering.)

"Do you think she's using Carrie?" Kathy asked quietly.

Lisa snorted. "Probably! That girl gets on my nerves! She's in my math class. I hate her guts!"

Racquelle sniffled. "I remember when I had that huge fight with Carrie a little while ago."

(Some book I never actually wrote.)

Cyndi sighed.

"Carrie was the first human friend I ever had."

Pretty soon, Kathy, Racquelle, and Cyndi were crying, Stacie was getting ready to cry, and Lisa was giving them all dirty looks.

"Come on," she said. "Carrie's a good friend but this isn't a cry fest!"

"Okay, okay."

***

I was looking at my yearbook.

(And here, in my book, this sentence is followed by three actual "yearbook" pages full of kids that I drew. I so wish I could scan them but unfortunately I don't have a scanner. Someday I hope I can post them. A lot of the boys have "spiky" hair comprised of five little lines on top of their heads. This was 1990 so a lot of the girls had "perms", which I drew as little squiggles. And their arms are all freakishly short and only go to the middle of their chests.)

"Carrie!" I heard Josephine call.

Oh, no. I ran downstairs. "What?"

Josephine was holding a brown box with lots of tiny holes in it.

"Open this," said Josephine. She walked off.

I opened the box. Inside it was a tiny sandy-colored puppy. He peered up at me.

"Oh!" I said. I picked him up. What should I name it?

"Is it a boy or a girl?" I called.

"A boy, you stupid idiot!"

Nicky? Nah, he didn't look like a Nicky. (Nicky was one of our family dogs.) Ahtabat? Ahtabat was stupid. (Tabatha backwards.)

I know! Sandy! I'd call him Sandy!

(Sandy's his name if you please ... Did Carrie name him after Annie or her new friend? Actually, I think Sandy might also have been one of our puppies.)

I hugged Sandy to my chest. He was special, all right. But he would never take the place of Tabby.

Chapter Eight

The next day I woke up and put on baggy bell-bottom jeans and a tight white T-shirt with Big Bird on it.

I ate my breakfast, half of a chocolate chip cookie. Then I exercised for an hour.

Josephine burst into my room with a belt. "You weren't supposed to have that cookie! You weren't supposed to have anything!" I flinched as she hit me with the belt on the arm. Then she hit me again, making me fall down. She kept on hitting me in different places until she hit me extra hard on the back and made me scream.

(Okay, I am so glad I didn't show this to a teacher!)

When she left, I shivered. She had been cruel before but never had beaten me with a belt!

There were some bruises forming so I decided to stay inside most of the day, but I'd go over to Sandra's and I had to practice.

***

Ding-dong. I rang Sandra Marcus's bell one hour later. Mrs. Marcus answered.

"Hello, Carrie," she said. Then she gasped and pointed to my arm. "What happened?"

Josephine had left a big belt mark on my arm, right under the finger marks she had left before.

"Oh, nothing," I said. I know I was red. Mrs. Marcus looked at me strangely but let me walk to Sandra's room.

(Okay, not that this story isn't completely ridiculous, but if it was real, Mrs. Marcus = failure.)

Sandra was wearing skintight stirrup pants and a baggy, checked cardigan-like sweater. "Oh," she said. "It's you. What happened to your arm?"

I paused and bit my lip.

"Well?" asked Sandra.

If I could tell Cyndi, I could tell Sandy. "My aunt," I said.

"Your aunt did that?" asked Sandra.

"Yes."

"Oh," said Sandra. "What are you over here for?"

I shrugged.

"Well, I've got a great idea. I want you to meet Harvey."

"Harvey?" I asked.

"Yes. The boy I love. He'll be at Woodland Park. He's in the chess club and they're meeting there today."

(Sandra = stalker.)

"Okay," I said. Sandra ran downstairs to ask her mom something. Then she came back up.

"My mom said we should walk. It's a long walk but it's worth it. The park is beautiful."

"I know," I said. The park had streams and toys and a big field for picnics. It looked just like a forest. There were lots of trees and tables and barbecues and log cabins to play in and eat in. It was wonderful.

"Well, quit daydreaming. Come on!" Sandra handed me a blue jean jacket. "Put this on. It will cover your arm."

The jacket was too big. But I put it on anyway.

We walked about two miles. Then we stopped at Burger King.

"I don't have any money," I said.

Sandra groaned and handed me some money. "Pay me back tomorrow!" she practically yelled.

We both ordered Whoppers, medium fries, and strawberry milkshakes. I was hungry. Besides that cookie, I hadn't eaten since my birthday, two days ago.

We ate in silence, then we walked the rest of the way to Woodland. (What was the point of stopping at Burger King?) Sandra and I found the table where the chess club was at. Harvey and nine other kids were watching a boy and a girl play chess. A man was standing beside the chess players. Three people I recognized from Albany Middle School were there. Harvey, Heather Muirhead, and a seventh grader named Brian Floyd.

Harvey noticed us. "Hey, Sandra," he said, grinning. "Your friend looks familiar."

(Oh, brother.)

"Yup," said Sandra, grinning back. "This is Carrie Packer from Lisa and the Angels."

"Hi, Sandy. Hi, Carrie. Sandy, do you want to play chess?"

Sandra pretended to look worried. "I'd love to. But I don't know how." She grinned at Harvey. "Maybe you could teach me."

"Oh, sure," said Harvey. He tapped the man on the shoulder. "Mr. Ament, this is Carrie and Sandra. Sandy wants to play chess."

"That's fine with me. Carrie, Sandra, my name is Paul Ament. I'm a counselor at Albany Private Academy."

"Hi," we both said.

The girl, who was going to be a freshman at A.P.A., named Margie, won. Next, Sandy and Harvey played. Harvey won.

(This is all very fascinating. Also, what's with the names. Harvey, Margie ... these are kids?)

"Um, Sandra, I've really got to get to the studio. Bye."

Sandra didn't answer.

The studio was about two miles away. I walked over there but I realized I still had Sandra's jacket on. I'd give it back to her tomorrow.

At the studio, we practiced the concert, of course. Then I went home, but my friends (?) decided to go to the Soda Shoppe instead.

"Why do they call this the Soda Shoppe?" asked Stacie on the way. "It doesn't sell just soda. It sells ice cream and soda and brownies and fruit and dessert."

They all shrugged. My friends (ugh! were they my friends or not?) walked up to the counter.

"Hmm," said Racquelle. "I'd like a pink bubblegum ice cream cone with three scoops and a waffle cone."

The waiter started to make her cone. Another waiter stepped up.

(Apparently I thought anybody who worked in some sort of eating establishment was called a "waiter.")

"What would you like, miss?" he asked Kathy. Kathy ordered a mini blueberry cheesecake. Stacie ordered a bowl of mint-chocolate chip ice cream. Cyndi ordered a vanilla fudge cone. Lisa ordered a small pistachio almond pudding cone.

(Gasp, Lisa ordered food! What the heck is a pudding cone?)

They sat down at this one booth for six. On the other side of the booth, they heard some familiar laughing and talking.

"She's so weird!" said a voice. Lisa peered over the side. When she saw who it was, she looked at the others and gagged. "Juel, Shauna, and Sandra," she said. Juel Eisenhower and Shauna Mack were two snobs, and as it turned out, they were Sandra's best friends.

"I mean," said Sandra. "She's a total space case! Carrie Packer is the weirdest girl I ever met!"

My friends (?) gasped.

"Even nerdier than On?" asked Juel.

"Nerdier than On and Bertha and Alicia or any of those other local celebrities that I used to get Harvey. But Carrie is a big celebrity. Not just local. And Harvey was really interested this time!"

"What's Carrie gonna do when Harvey and you are going out?" asked Shauna.

"Oh," said Sandra. "I'm going to play a little trick on Carrie. When Harvey and I are going out, I'll ask Mom and me to take Carrie to that one lake at the bottom of Woodland Park. Everybody's there in the summer. Then, in front of everybody, I'll push her in the deep end of the lake!"

Juel, Shauna, and Sandra left.

Cyndi bit her lip. Stacie and Kathy looked at eachother, their mouths wide open. Racquelle looked very cross. And Lisa kept shaking her head and saying, "I told you so."

Nobody knew what to do.

****

Oh, NO! Well, there's the truth about Sandra. She's just using Carrie! Can you believe it? (Never mind the question of why stupid Harvey has a thing for girls with famous friends.)

Coming up -- the dramatic conclusion! After I'm done with this story, I'm not sure what to post next. I don't have a lot of them at my apartment. In fact, Carrie and the Search For a Friend is my only COMPLETE Lisa and the Angels story. However, I do have some of Murder (where the girls witness a murder) and Kidnapped! (where Carrie and Racquelle are kidnapped by twin sisters) and a little bit of The Performance (where Lisa and the Angels go to Disneyland). I also have a story from my other "series", The Fruitville Orphanage for Girls, where the orphans put on a production of "The Little Mermaid." Does anyone have a preference?
Hopefully I can find more at my parents' house!