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!

More of Carrie's search for a friend

I've been known to post only sporadically with previous blogs but not this time. I'm on a roll! Before I give you more Lisa and the Angels, though, I want to say how happy I was to notice that this blog has already been linked to on the awesome 30 is the New 13. Thanks, Sada! I totally stole her idea for this blog and I love reading her childhood stuff. You should check it out if you haven't already.

Now on to the next couple of chapters. I know you are on the edge of your seating waiting to find out what happens to Carrie. What will Josephine DO to her??? Read on!


Chapter Three

"Tabatha, go into the basement. I'm sorry but I've gotta go!"

I had to go to the doctor's office for a checkup. Tabatha wouldn't go into the basement. Finally, I got her in there.

(A gratuitous scene that came from real life ... our dogs always used to stay in the basement when we were out.)

We drove to the doctor's office in Josephine's beat-up station wagon in silence. I got out and slammed the door.

We went into Dr. Miller's office. I took off the ugly tan overcoat Josephine makes me wear.

A nurse came into the room five minutes later.

"Well, Carrie," said the nurse. "Come outside to the scale and I'll weigh you." I didn't like this nurse. She's too fake.

We walked outside to the scale. Josephine stayed inside on a rocking chair with a big frown on her face.

(Okay, what kind of doctor's office keeps their scale "outside"? Or has a rocking chair? As for the nurse, I pictured her to look and sound like an actress named Patrika Darbo, who once played a nurse in an episode of Just the Ten of Us, and who I always used to confuse with Edie McClurg.)

I stepped on to the scale.

"Hmm," said the nurse. "50 pounds. 50 pounds?!! How old are you?"

"I'm twelve today," I said. I think she should know that. I mean, I am short, and thin, but people say besides that, I look older.

(Yes, Carrie, and it also might help if she, oh, looked at your chart ...)

"My gosh, girl, what does that aunt of yours feed you?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. What business was it of hers, anyway? I'm pretty much a lot fatter than I used to be.

The nurse and I walked into the room.

"Ms. Richter?" said the nurse.

"Yes?" said Josephine.

"This child only weighs 50 pounds! That is much too thin for a twelve-year-old girl!"

"Well, she is tiny-boned and only 4'6"!"

The nurse and Josephine went on, the nurse left, the doctor came, he did all the stuff, and told me I was fine except for one thing. He told me to leave the room (why?) while he and Josephine talked.

I listened at the door, of course. I just heard the words 'not that serious', 'growing', and 'too skinny.'

Finally, I was allowed to go into the room.

"Carrie," said Dr. Miller. "It's nothing that serious. You just stopped growing. You probably won't grow for another year, or two, or three."

(Oh, okay. That doesn't sound serious at all. Who gave this "doctor" a license? Really, my sister and I once heard about a girl who stopped growing and both of us vaguely wanted that to happen to us. We were so weird. Anyway...)

Stopped growing? This girl I knew named Christine Hart stopped growing. It wasn't bad for her, and she's practically a midget.

"But," the doctor went on. "The nurse is right. You are too skinny. You need to eat a little more, okay?"

"Okay," I said.

(That doctor's appointment had so much to do with the rest of the book.)

When we were in the car, driving, Josephine told me, "I don't care what that doctor says. I don't want you getting to be a big, fat punk. You're already a skinny punk." The rest of the way to the studio was silent.

When I walked into the studio, all of Lisa and the Angels were setting up. The band was warming up. The dancers were here for when we practiced for the concert afterward. Oh, yeah! The concert! Lisa and the Angels are going to have a concert in Los Angeles in August.

I'll give you the words to all the songs on Dangerous Love.
(In order on tape)
(Oh, THANK you!)

1.Together
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

One night
That night
Stars were shinin'
Oh, so bright

One night
Candlelight
Shined on our faces
Oh, that night

Chorus:
TOGETHER
Baby we were TOGETHER
Probably the last night
We will spend, ooh ooh
TOGETHER

Baby
Come back
Oh, my darling
Why'd ya leave me?

Repeat chorus

(What wonderful lyrics already. To think, they were written by someone not even 12 years old! Don't ask me why the title is capitalized in the chorus. I love how Lisa doesn't even bother to rhyme in the last verse.)

2.Just Enough Love
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

Push me around, why don't you
I'm NOT
Hearing the sound of your love
Come home at night, act like I don't exist
(11-year-olds live together?)
But all I need is a kiss

Chorus:
I need JUST ENOUGH LOVE
To stop all the te-e-ears
To stop all the fears inside.
I need JUST ENOUGH LOVE
To erase all the sorrow,
Start a new tomorrow with you
Ooooh...

You come home at night
I-I do, too
Even since our fight, I still love you.
Please won't you love me,
Kiss me and hug me
Ooooh...

Repeat chorus

Bridge:
I love you
I think you love me, too
But baby, you don't act like it
I just want you back to normal...

Repeat chorus

(Now I have the "tune" for this in my head. Well, I remember all of it except for the "bridge.")

3.You're the Best Boy I Ever Met
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

When I look at you I notice
Special sparkle in your eyes
And it comes as no surprise
You are in love with me
(How arrogant...)

The negative vanishes
The positive appears
And there are no more tears
We are in love again

Chorus:
You are the best boy I ever met!
The very best boy I ever met!
We argue so-ometimes, yet
You're still the best boy I ever me-e-e-et...

Oh baby, don't ya leave me
Stay here with me, boy
Happiness and joy
Oh, that's what we feel...

Repeat chorus

Bridge:
You, you, you, you, you ... the very best...

Repeat chorus

(La di da. Not your best effort, Lisa.)

4.More Than Just Attention
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

Adults, they don't seem to understand
I'm not saying that we have to make demands
But it would be nice
Oh, I'll tell you twice

Chorus:
More than just attention
I need more than just attention
Do not leave me in suspicion!
I need more than just attention...

(Um, wouldn't "suspension" have worked better than suspicion? It makes about as much sense. Also, why does the spoiled brat want MORE than "just" attention?)

Adults, they never understand the children!
Always we should be seen and not heard!
Don't underestimate the feelings we feel...

Repeat chorus twice

(Whatever -- at least it's not about a lover's quarrel like many of the other songs on this sure-to-be-legendary album.)

5.My True One, My Brand New One
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

It's like we never met before
I only see you in my dreams.
Your face is taped on to my door
I love it as real as it seems.


Chorus:
It's like we never met,
I only see you in my dreams.
You're my true one, my brand new one
And I always think of you...

I know we'll meet again someday
Oh, I wish I knew just when
And if we ever meet again,
I hope you're better than you've been!

Repeat chorus

(This one sounds sort of stalkerish. "Your face is taped onto my door?" Lisa sounds sinister in the last verse.)

6.Dangerous Love
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

Take one look at me
What did I do to you?
I know I'm innocent
I still think you are, too.

Please stop blaming me
For things I did not do.
I'm still in love with you
I think you love me, too.

Chorus:
Slippery when wet!
So smooth when dry-y
Safe truths and dangerous lies.
Crash into eachother, that is not safe!
Our dangerous love is just the same...

(Okay, I don't even know what to say ... make sense, Lisa!)

Love is like a game,
Like an uneasy test.
Oh, when I look at you
I still think you're the best.

If love is a test
None of us fai-ailed yet.
I'm still in love with you,
I always think of you...

Repeat chorus

(Now look at the next one, Kathy's song made the cut!)

7.Tough Youths
(Music by Lisa McOrrill, lyrics by Kathy Bell)

Wake up in the morning
Ready for another day
To feel the sorrow
Each and every way

The people laughing,
There's no more clapping for you
Anymore.
If they finish (finish what?)
you'll know what to do...

Chorus:
Tough youths!
Feel the hurt, feel the pain
Hear the laughter!
Take it slow, just ignore
Tough youths!

You're tired of all the pressure
Tired of all the pain they give you.
You have no power
There's nothing you can do.

Repeat chorus

Bridge:
Dreaming that you'll have a happy youth
No more pressure from the children, no more...

Repeat chorus

(Poor, angsty Kathy. But what's with the "youths"? Who has more than one youth?)

8.I Don't Need Gifts
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

When the darkness is light
It just begins.
(Profound...)
The memories, the happiness
And I remember when

Everything was easy
Boy, that's not like now.
Our friendship, our lovin'
Is just about to drown.

Chorus:
I DON'T NEED GIFTS
In exchange I want your love.
Oh, I don't need gifts
Not heaven above.
Not rubies or pearls or diamond rings
I don't need gifts
Not even a thi-i-ing.

Don't give me a ring,
Just give me your love.
Don't give me a string
Of pearls or a dove.

Repeat chorus twice

(Oh, Lisa. All she needs is love. Personally, I wouldn't mind if someone gave me a dove for a present.)

9.Together Forever With You
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

The music still plays in our heads,
The memories as we lay in bed. (!!!)
Remembering the horrible days
Days of darkness...

Chorus:
Together forever with you
And I'll never, ever forget you
The wondrous lives
Still lay in our heads (WTF?)
oooh, oooh

The troubles, they all melt away
And both of us just seem to say
We love each other,
We love one another.

Repeat chorus

Bridge:
Only wanna be with you
Boy, baby
Only wanna be with you
Together... forever...

Repeat chorus

(Lisa got a little, uh, PG-rated with this one. Not much else to say about it.)

10.I Want You Back
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

Ever since I met you
We were in love.
But since you left
I went down, you went above.

I never thought this would
Have to be true.
No one was in love
More than me and you.

Chorus:
I want you back
Whenever I can
I want you back
Yeah, I want you back.

Now that you are gone
I'll miss you, oh, so long
Baby, come back please
Baby, come back to me.

Repeat chorus

(The chorus of this song -- what little there is of it -- was written by my sister after we found homes for our dog's litter of puppies. She wrote it to "her" puppy. Wasn't it nice of her to let me borrow it? She also wrote the tune, which, unfortunately, I can't share with you.)

11.Lovin' You
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

(not to be confused with the Minnie Ripperton song of the same title)

Rockin' round the clock tonight
Having fun
All night long.
Knees are shakin', hands are clappin'
Music playing
Every day and I'm...

Chorus:
Lovin' you
Giving you all my love
All my romance.
Why don't we dance?
I love you, you love me
So let's get together...

Dancin' by the candlelight
Loving you
You're loving me, too.
People laughin', no more rappin'
Just the rockin'
No more stoppin'

Repeat chorus

Bridge (spoken):
Baby
Maybe
We will lose each other
Let's aim for that never to happen
Just keep on snappin' and dancin'

(I can just imagine Lisa saying that in a "seductive" voice. By the way, there is no "repeat chorus" in this one. It must just fade away to a cheesy, bubblegummy end.)

12.The Best Day Of My Life With You
(Music and lyrics by Lisa McOrrill)

Baby, I remember that day
And it makes me want to cry
Baby, when I think of that day
The best day of my life...

I wonder why the world
Makes us be apart
It doesn't matter,
You'll always be in my heart.

Chorus:
The best day of my life with you,
Having all my love with you.
Best day of my life with you,
Best day of my life...

Someday when the world finds out
I will want to cry,
I hope that day never comes
That is not a lie.

One and one make two
That two is me and you.
We're such a great couple
We will never be apart.

Repeat chorus twice

(The last verse seems out of place. The rest of it makes it sound like Lisa is having an affair.)

Those are all the words. We finished setting everything up. Cyndi ran over to me.

"Ew," she said, "Ugly outfit. I bet you're glad we have outfits for the tape cover."

I gave her a dirty look. Didn't she know Josephine made me wear these clothes?

"All right," said Miss Jewell, our manager and producer, clapping her hands. "Everybody change into your tape cover outfits!"

We all changed. I'll describe how we looked.

1. Lisa. She was wearing tight jeans, a baggy white T-shirt with a green smiley face on it, a denim vest with a smiley face on back, white push-down socks, and black tennis shoes without the laces. She also had on dangly happy-face earrings and a gold chain bracelet.

(Ugly. I'm surprised she wasn't wearing a fedora with the top cut out, like Joe McIntyre in that New Kids on the Block video, which is where I KNOW the smiley faces came from.)

2. Cyndi. She was wearing a loose white mini-dress, a denim jacket, white push-downs that said Esprit in black letters, and denim flats. Her earrings were dangly red hearts, and around her neck was a peace symbol on a chain.

(Esprit ... how very 80's. The peace symbol on a chain came from Donnie Wahlberg.)

3. Racquelle. She was wearing a long white cotton dress, a bleached black-jean jacket, black nylons, and white flats. In her ears were tiny black bows.

(Okay, Racquelle is supposed to be one of the "nerdy" Angels, but... black nylons and white flats?!! Apparently Lisa and the Angels couldn't afford a stylist.)

4. Kathy. She was wearing these cute skegs that had white spandex and a jean skirt for the skirt, a baggy white T-shirt, white sport socks, and black canvas shoes. She wasn't wearing any jewelry.

(Boring. I "love" how they coordinated all the black and white and denim.)

5. Stacie. She was wearing a long jean skirt, a puffy white blouse, a long jean jacket, and hiking boots. She wasn't wearing any jewelry, either.

(A long jean skirt with a long jean jacket? sounds hideous.)

6. Me. I was wearing a very loose denim mini-skirt, a white turtleneck, a black cardigan, white push-downs over black push-downs, black flats, and dangly black puppies for earrings.

(And this outfit sounds positively beautiful in comparison to the others ... if you ignore the feet. So much black and white.)

We went through the tape and practiced the concert. Then we changed into our normal clothes and decided to go to the Soda Shoppe. I walked a couple of feet behind the whole time.

"Carrie, what's wrong?" Kathy asked.

"Nothing," I said a little too quickly.

We got to the Soda Shoppe. Racquelle ordered a fruit cocktail. Stacie ordered a butterscotch sundae. Kathy ordered a chocolate ice cream cone. Lisa ordered a medium Diet Coke. Cyndi ordered the Soda Shoppe Special, a huge banana split with lots of everything and twice the whipped cream. I ordered a root beer float.

We all sat down. Racquelle took a bite. "Yum," she said. "I love their fruit cocktails. You know, I like Rick Ballis. You know, the one who plays the saxophone."

I started laughing but turned it into a cough. Rick was eighteen! (that dinosaur...)

"What?" asked Raquelle testily.

"Nothing!" I said.

I sipped my root beer float. Suddenly, Cyndi burst out laughing.

"Lisa, you like Rick!" she exploded gleefully.

"Ewww!!! Nasty!" said Lisa. Everyone was laughing. Everyone except for me.

"Carrie," Cyndi said cheerfully. "What's wrong?"

I sighed. "You guys," I said. "I have something to tell you."

Chapter Four

"What is it?" asked Stacie.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore. I mean, I'll still be your friend, but I don't want to hang around you. I want a new, better friend."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lisa asked huffily.

I could feel the tears coming. "You guys caused my parents to die! If it wasn't for you, Mom and Dad would be here and Josephine wouldn't!"

Kathy and Stacie burst into tears. Cyndi was giving me a shocked look, and Lisa was giving me a dirty look. "That is the rudest thing I've ever heard!" said Racquelle. Then she burst into tears.

I silently finished my root beer float (just leave it, Carrie) and walked home. I let myself in with my key.

"Oh, it's you," said Josephine. "Look." She held up my white bathing suit. On it was an iron-on of Big Bird! She held up three of my ugly sweaters, and on each of them was a different iron-on of Big Bird!

(She must have found a good deal on those iron-ons.)

I gasped.

"Go see your room," she said. What about my room?

I slowly walked up the beige stairs and went to my room. Above the door, there was a green sign that said 123 in white letters, like the one in Sesame Street. What was this?

I opened the door. I couldn't believe what I saw.

In place of my pink bedspread was a white bedspread with pictures of Grover, Hairy Monster, and Cookie Monster all over it. My pillow had Cookie Monster's face on it. My pink garbage can had been painted gray, and it had Oscar the Grouch on it. My white walls now had wallpaper up with pictures of Big Bird and Little Bird all over it. On my wall was a framed picture of all the Sesame Street characters. My posters were still there, luckily. A huge Snuffelupagus doll was standing by my bed, and a Barkley piggy bank was on my windowsill. In my plant was one of those sticks you put in plants with a picture of Big Bird on it.

"Happy birthday!" yelled Josephine.

I started to cry. This was too much!

(What if Josephine thought Carrie would like her new room? Actually, I don't know why she has such a Sesame Street fetish. It's a little weird. I liked Sesame Street well enough but I didn't really follow it. I wouldn't mind having some of that stuff, though ... like the Oscar garbage can.)


One hour later, at about 2:05, Josephine called me downstairs. "Carrie Lynn Packer, get down here, neow!"

I walked downstairs. "What?"

"Here." She threw two packages at me.

I opened the tiny one first. It was one of those clip things that looked like Oscar the Grouch.

"I want you to put that on your trash can," she said.

I opened the big one. Inside were a Bert doll and an Ernie doll. There was also this lamp that was supposed to look like Big Bird once you put it together.

"I'm getting rid of that ugly white lamp of yours, and putting this on your dresser. I'm also taking your ugly posters down, fixing up your new toys, and putting this clip on your trash can," Josephine said. She disappeared into my room, and came back half an hour later.

"Go outside!" she yelled.

I was glad to go outside. It gave me a chance to search for a new friend.

I walked outside, glad I didn't bring my coat. It was burning hot, even for a summer day in Albany, New York. That's almost always cold!

(Note, I have never been to Albany, New York.)

I walked across the street and turned left. I saw a girl with chestnut braids and thick, round glasses. Nah. I saw fat people, thin people, short people, tall people, young people, old people. Most people would go up and ask me for my autograph. No one seemed like the right person.

When I was about twelve blocks away, and about ready to give up, I saw the perfect girl. She had short auburn hair that was fixed in two pigtails, but the pigtails looked good on her. She didn't wear bangs. She had large glittery brown eyes, and was wearing tons of makeup, but that looked good, too. She was wearing yellow leopard-spotted spandex, a black turtleneck sweater, lacy black socks, and snakeskin pattern tennis shoes.

"Hello," she said. "You must be Carrie Packer. I hate your kind of music. But I wouldn't mind being around you. My name is Sandra Marcus."

"Hi," I said.

"Come to my house. My mom told me to start on dinner. We're supposed to make a big dinner, 'cause we're having company. I heard you like to cook so come help me." We walked about two blocks away to Sandra's house.

(In case you can't tell, because it's not like it's completely obvious or anything, Carrie's new friend isn't supposed to be a very nice person. Still, stupid Carrie all goes along willingly to take orders from someone she just met.)

Sandra told me to start up a tuna casserole while she started a salad. I began the casserole.

"So," said Sandra, cutting up some lettuce. "What're your parents like?"

"I don't have any parents," I said quietly.

Sandra stopped cutting and put her hands on her hips. "Well, then who do you live with?"

"My dumb aunt Josephine."

"Why is this aunt Josephine so dumb?"

"She beats me, okay?" I cried.
(oh, the drama!!)

Sandra gave me a warning look. "I won't be your friend, Carrie, if you don't apologize."

I sighed. "Sorry, Sandra."

"Call me Sandy if you want."

We worked in silence. When I was putting the casserole in the oven, Sandra was still dumping shredded cheese in the salad.

"Start the brownies, okay?" said Sandra. "We have some brownie mix in the cupboard."

I opened the cupboard and found two boxes of E-Z Brownee Mix.

When the brownies were in the oven, Sandra told me to make some potato salad, while she made an orange jello salad.

When the casserole, the brownies, the potato salad, and the salad were all finished, and the jello was in the refrigerator, and everything was covered with aluminum foil, Sandra told me to do one last thing.

"What?" I asked.

"Make sandwiches. Take as many breads as you can find and as many toppings as you can find, make the sandwiches, and cut them in half. Once you're done, come up to my bedroom. I'm upstairs on the second door to the left."

"Okay."

I made peanut butter, jelly, and honey on white bread; lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise on whole wheat bread; ham, cheese, Miracle Whip, lettuce, and pickles on sourdough bread; and tunafish on rye bread.

When I was finally finished, I covered the sandwiches with aluminum foil. Then I walked up to Sandra's room.

I walked inside. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" she asked. I giggled.

We both heard someone come in the front door.

"Mother," Sandy muttered. She ran downstairs and I followed her.

"Hello, Sandy," said Mrs. Marcus. "Who is your friend?"

"This is Carrie Packer from Lisa and the Angels."

"Hello, Carrie," said Mrs. Marcus. We shook hands. "Sandra, dear, did you make dinner?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Sandy," Mrs. Marcus said warningly.

"I, well, I made the salad and the jello."

"Well, who made the casserole, the potato salad, the brownies, and the sandwiches?"

"Carrie," Sandra squeaked.

"Carrie!" Mrs. Marcus said. "Carrie, I'm sorry we can't have you over for dinner, but here." She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a plate, dished out some tuna casserole, dished out some potato salad, and put a brownie and a tunafish sandwich on the plate. Then she covered the plate with aluminum foil.

"Here," she said. She handed me the plate.

"Thanks," I said. "It's my birthday and this is really nice."

"Your birthday!" said Mrs. Marcus. She whispered something in Sandy's ear. Sandy groaned, ran upstairs, and came back down with a white ballpoint pen. The pen had a happy face on it and it said Don't Worry Be Happy.


"Thanks, Sandra," I said. (Too bad Carrie dumped Lisa as a friend, her new pen matches Lisa's tape cover outfit.) I went home.

Josephine met me. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the plate when I was inside.

I paused. "Food."

"It's your dinner," said Josephine. "I was going to order some Mexican food, but I'll just order tomorrow. By the way, your friends dropped by with your presents. They said you had a fight."

"I have a new friend," I said. "Her name is Sandra. I think you'd like her."

"I'd better," said Josephine. "Cause if I don't..."


****

Ooh, ominous. Coming up ... more NKOTB references, plus a funeral.

Carrie and the Search for a Friend

When I was about 10, practically every book I read came from a series (i.e. Babysitters Club, Sweet Valley Twins, Sleepover Friends) so one day I decided to create my very own! It was about a bunch of regular girls who also happened to be a famous teen pop singing group on the side. Kind of like Hannah Montana, except Lisa and her friends didn't hide their identities -- everyone was cool with their fame.

Although I had dozens of story ideas, I actually only finished about five of the books. "Carrie and the Search for a Friend" was supposed to be number 6 in my series (I didn't write them in any order). It was "inspired" by a book that I absolutely looooved at the time -- "Don't Hurt Laurie!" by Willo Davis Roberts, which happens to be about child abuse. Hence some parts of my story are a little ... dark for a 10-year-old. This is kind of a weird one to start with, actually, but it's the first one I came across. I hope my "abuse" scenes don't scare everyone away. (I swear I was not writing them from personal experience. Willo had some other book with an abuse subplot, plus I think I read a few others.)

Anyhow, without further adieu, here are the first couple of chapters of this utter masterpiece.

Chapter One

"Carrie! Take out the trash!"

"Okay!" I wanted to yell 'Okay, boss!' but I could just imagine what Josephine would do if I did.

Josephine is my aunt. I live with just Josephine and my collie, Tabatha. I used to live with my parents and Tabatha, but a couple of months ago, my parents were killed in a car accident. Josephine came as my guardian, and starved me for some reason.
(?!!)
Then Josephine had to leave and my aunt Raina came. But Raina went into labor one day and Josephine came back, meaner than ever.

I bet you're all confused by now, so I'll go on and introduce myself. (Ripping off the BSC ...)

My full name is Carrie Lynn Packer. I have shoulder-length light blonde hair that my best friend Cyndi Wellman calls the three s's -- shiny, soft, and silky. My hair is really fluffy. It used to be really curly, but I styled it differently. I also have wide-set brown eyes.
(Note: I also used to "play" Lisa and the Angels with my dolls, and Carrie was played by one of my Skippers, which had "fluffy" blonde hair. Four or five of my other characters were played by the same doll.)

My five fave things are cooking, dancing, singing, boys, and good clothes. I guess I'm a goof-off. I hate nerdy clothes, snakes, child abuse, spit, and crime. I'm 4'6" and weigh 50 pounds.

I looked at the clock. 11:03 PM. I sighed. I had just gotten back from a huge dance called the Dancing On The Ceiling dance about an hour ago. It was wonderful. There was food, and games, and of course, dancing. It's held every year for middle school and high school students at Albany New York High School. It's called Dancing On The Ceiling because they totally emtpy the dance floor to make it look like the ceiling. Then, they made papier maché chairs and tables and glued plastic food to the papier maché. They hung the fake tables and chairs to the ceiling with string to make it look like we were "dancing on the ceiling." It was really cute.
(It sounds atrocious. Oh, the name of that dance -- in case you couldn't tell -- came from the song of the same title. I hope Lionel Richie doesn't read this and sue me.)

Lisa and the Angels also performed. Who are Lisa and the Angels? They are a pretty famous teen rock group that I happen to be a member of! We have a tape out called In the Land of Dreams. We're going to record our second tape, Dangerous Love, tomorrow -- my birthday. (I'll be twelve.) The tape isn't going to start selling until early October, though. (It's almost July.)

The members of Lisa and the Angels are all my closest friends. I might as well describe them.
(Oh, goody. I'm surprised this wasn't my Chaper 2.)


1.Lisa McOrrill. She's the lead singer. She's one of my best friends. (I have a best best friend ... if you know what I mean.) Here are some things about Lisa. Looks - shoulder-length, shimmering brown hair, wide brown eyes. Kind of tall and very skinny. Dresses good. Favorite things - singing, making jewelry, dancing, music, and ballet. She's a wonderful ballerina. She takes company classes. Wait! I think she is in the company.
(What company?) Dislikes - country music, long stories, eating. Honestly. She hates to eat! That's why she's so skinny. She barely eats. Personality - outgoing. Nice. Goof-off. She's 4'9". She weighs 61 pounds.
(How does Carrie know? And... if Lisa sounds anorexic, she wasn't supposed to be. That was some other character, Jennifer Owens. She isn't in this book.)

2.Cyndi Wellman. She's my BEST best friend. Here are some things about Cyndi. Looks - permed, brunette hair. Wide dark-blue eyes. Average height and average weight. Dresses good. Likes - reading, writing, singing, junk food, and dancing. Dislikes - spit, blood, fish, crime, and snobs. Personality - same as Lisa. She's 4'8" and weighs 78 pounds.
(Ha! at dull Cyndi not even having her own personality. Also, why do these girls have such strong feelings about spit?)

3.Kathy Bell. Long, straight golden hair. Dark blue eyes.
(Kathy was also a Skipper doll.) Dresses kind of nerdy. Tall and skinny. Likes - singing, ballet (she's in the company, too), horses, Anita Baker, and classical music. Dislikes - mean people, her hair, and punky clothes. Personality - very nice, very shy, very sensitive, cries a lot. She's 5'0". She weighs 85 pounds.

4.Racquelle Arlington. Looks - short, straight, pale blonde hair, very small pale blue eyes. Dresses ... well, alright, very nerdy. Very tall and slim. Likes - singing, animals, classical music. Dislikes - evil people, heavy metal music. Personality - nice, but can be a pain. She's 5'6". She weighs 100 pounds.
(Okay, forget Jennifer Owens, these girls ALL sound they belong in an eating disorder clinic. I guess I didn't know too much about heights and weights...)

5.Stacie Barnes. Looks - long, curly light-blonde hair. Huge blue-green eyes. Tall and skinny. Likes - baby-sitting, sewing, singing. She makes some of her clothes, which are fancy or casual. Dislikes - mean people, apple food. Personality - nice, kind of sensitive. She's 5'4" and weighs 93 pounds.

A couple of other things about my friends. Our families and ages.

1.Me. As you know, I'll be twelve tomorrow, and I live with just Josephine and Tabatha.

2.Lisa. She lives with her parents and her cat Brownie. She'll be twelve in August - two months from now. She also has a no-named horse.
(And in later books, a long-lost sister named Erin, but I hadn't invented her yet.)

3.Cyndi. Her family is weird. It became big in about a year and a half! You see, Cyndi was born in New York City. She lived in an apartment with just her parents until she was ten. Then they moved to Albany and bought an adorable Yorkshire terrier puppy named Blackey. They lived there for about a month when Blackey got lost. (Why am I telling you this? It's not about Cyndi's family. But I'll tell you anyway.)

(Gee, thanks, Carrie. Um, but since she brought it up, that bit about the puppy was from my very first Lisa and the Angels book, "My Own Pet.")

So Cyndi was alone, but a few months later Blackey returned. THEN, in about March, Mrs. Wellman had a baby named Emily. So Cyndi got a sister. THEN the Wellmans moved about thirty blocks away to a very, very old house built in 1700. It has a secret passage. (Really? Does it have a ghost named Jared Mullray?) Right after they moved, Kathy's mom gave Cyndi's mom a call, and forced her to adopt three children! Mrs. Bell gave her a lot of money. So Cyndi gained three more sisters. Eight-year-old Anne is quiet and shy, five-year-old Marie thinks she knows everything, and three-year-old Christie is very weird. She's going through an I LOVE NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK, ESPECIALLY JOE MCINTYRE stage.
(Heh. I wrote this in 1990.)

You'd have thinked (sic) Cyndi's family would be complete now, but no. A few weeks ago, the Wellmans adopted 1 and 1/2-year-old twins, Jennifer Michelle and Jessica Danielle (or the other way around). So now, Cyndi has one real sister, five adopted sisters, one dog, and two parents, of course. Anyway, Cyndi turned twelve yesterday.

4.Kathy. Kathy lives with her parents, her seven-year-old sister Marie, and her adopted two-year-old brother Henry. She has a horse with no name, but Lisa and Kathy are thinking of naming their horses. Kathy will be twelve in July.

5.Stacie. Stacie lives with her parents, her older sixteen-year-old sister Marie, twin five-year-old sisters, Angela and Andrea, twin four-year-old sisters, Kristin and Kristina, a three-year-old sister, Shelley, a two-year-old sister, Sheena, and a six-month-old adopted brother, Erik. (Wow! Nine kids!) She also has a horse, Brown Bear. Stacie will be twelve two days before Lisa.
(That's nice. What's with all the Maries? and all the adopted brothers?)

6.Racquelle. Racquelle lives with her parents, her twelve-year-old brother Donald, her nine-year-old sister Cheri, and her adopted seven-year-old brother Hobart. She has a horse, but it doesn't have a name, and she says she never will name it. Racquelle is fourteen.

So that's all. That's my friends and their families.

"Carrie!," shouted Josephine. "Quit daydreaming and take out the trash!"

"Okay, okay, okay!"

Chapter Two

I took the stupid garbage outside, and then changed into my long, white nightgown. I was just starting to brush my hair, when I heard Josephine.

"Carrie!" she called.

I sighed, and ran downstairs. "Wha-at?"

"Since you took so long to take out the trash, I'm going to do something to your nightgown."

"Do what to my nightgown?" I figured she was going to tear one of the sleeves or something.

But no. She held up a package. Inside was a picture of Big Bird. I checked the words on the package. A iron-on! What was she doing with a Big Bird iron-on?

"I'm going to iron this on your nightgown. Tomorrow morning when you get dressed, bring me down your nightgown and I'll iron this on."

"On my birthday?" I squeaked.
(Relax, Carrie. It's just your nightgown. The "iron-on" is probably cute.)

"Yes," said Josephine sharply. "Up to bed."

I walked upstairs, finished brushing my hair, and lay down in my bed.

This is going to be some birthday, I thought.

The next morning, I got up, took a shower, and went back into my bedroom. I took a look in my closet at all the nerdy clothes Josephine makes me wear. (I kept my old ones, just in case Josephine ever loosened up a little bit.) I decided on one of my better outfits, baggy pink stretch pants and a white polo shirt. I put on my clothes, and decided to wait to bring my nightgown down. I combed my hair and pulled it back with two tiny barrettes that looked like pink bows. (I'm surprised Josephine even lets me do that!) I put on some white sport socks, and for now, my pink bunny rabbit slippers.

Reluctantly, I grabbed my nightgown and carried it downstairs.

Josephine saw me. "Oh," she said in her hoarse, scratchy voice, "It's you." (Duh, who does she think it is, President Reagan?)

(Note, even though I wrote this in 1990, it gratuitously takes place in 1988.)

"Happy birthday." Then she saw the nightgown. "Oh, goody!" she said. "Go in there and eat breakfast. There's some presents by your plate."

I walked into the kitchen, expecting to finda quarter of a piece of toast, or a half an egg, or a plain doughnut, since my meals are always very small or sometimes even nothing. But I was surprised. My plate was actually full of eggs and a whole piece of toast.

I opened one present. A Rainbow Brite doll. What kind of a present was a Rainbow Brite doll? I opened the next. A stuffed Winnie the Pooh. How old did Josephine think I was turning? Two? I opened the last present by my plate. A white teddy bear. At least that was halfway decent.

(They all seem pretty equivalent to me, but what do I know. Carrie needs to be more grateful.)

I ate my breakfast. Then Josephine handed my nightgown to me. "All complete!" she laughed. "Ha, ha! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!"

I rolled my eyes and carried the nightgown and toys upstairs. Then I walked back downstairs.

I said this as fast as I could. "Josephine, Lisa and the Angels are recording a tape today, so can you drive me to the studio?"

"Speak up," said Josephine.

"Lisa ... and ... the ... Angels..."

"Cut that out," said Josephine. "Act like a normal human being, brat." She slapped me in the face. (Gasp.)

"Lisa and the Angels are recording a tape today, so can you drive me to the studio?"

Josephine blew up. She threw me against the wall, took off her belt, and whipped me in the face with it.

"Do you expect me to take you everywhere?" she screamed. "I hate you! I hate you, you little brat!" She groaned. "I might as well, because of that dumb doctors appointment you have before that!" She knocked my head against the wall again.

I couldn't help it. Tears started flowing down my face. I ran upstairs to my room, flung myself on my bed, and cried and cried.

Why, I thought, does she do this? Especially on my birthday! I miss Mom and Dad. They were the greatest. If it weren't for some car in the streets, they'd be here!

Suddenly I got mad at my friends. Lisa, Kathy, and Racquelle were all in the car -- the same car Mom and Dad were in. (How convenient.) Mom and Dad were killed instantly, while my friends were just injured. It wasn't fair! Cyndi and Stacie didn't do anything, but Cyndi's kind of nosy, and Stacie -- well, Stacie's not a great friend, either.

I took a look at myself in the mirror. Luckily, Josephine's stupid belt was plastic, so it didn't leave a bruise.

I began to think of my so-called friends, who had caused all this. (I hated them ... no, it doesn't say that, but it should have.) I decided to go on a search for a new, better friend.

I felt a huge lump in my throat and hoped I wouldn't cry some more.

(By the way, if I hadn't decided to go on a stupid search for a friend, this whole thing might never have happened.)

***

That's all for now. I know Carrie lives a troubled life, but she could be a little nicer. Who would want to be her friend? Also, I'm a little embarrassed to notice that her "voice" isn't much different than my current writing style. Oh, well.

Coming up ... outfits! And Lisa and the Angels song lyrics!!!