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!).
Showing posts with label age 13. Show all posts
Showing posts with label age 13. Show all posts
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Tammy the Little Mermaid - The Finale (plus previews!)
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.;>)
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.;>)
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Seven
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!
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!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Tammy the Little Mermaid, Part Six
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."
"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."
"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.
"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!"
"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.
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.
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