Me and Snobby Stacie, Part Two

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

Chapter Four

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

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

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

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

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

(Was that P.S. really necessary?)

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

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

I ran over to Kathy's.

"Hi, Cyndi!"

"Hi, Kathy!"

We ran up to her fourth-floor bedroom.

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

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

"What?"

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

"Where were you?" Mom asked.

"A-at Kathy's."

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

"How come it took you so long?"

"We watched two movies."

"Next time, be here!"

"Wh-where's Blackey?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't have the slightest idea."

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

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

"Oh, Mom! What if Blackey dies?"

"He won't, baby."

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

I ran next door. Mrs. Barnes answered.

"Yes?" she asked.

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

"Stacie, honey. A girl!"

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

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

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

"Someone better."

I stared at her.

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

"More than you."

"No way!"

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

"Well..." I said.

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

"See, I am!"

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

"What?"

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

"Yes."

"Poisoned meat?"

Stacie grinned. "No."

"Oh, sure!"

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

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

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

Stacie grinned. "Nope."

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

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



Chapter Five

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

I pushed my teddy bear off my bed.

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

"Cyndi! Dinner!"

I ran downstairs.

"What is it?"

"Fish and macaroni'n'cheese."

"Ihafish."

"You hay fish?" joked Dad.

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

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

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

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

Mom sighed and looked at Dad. He just shrugged.

"Cyndi," said Mom.

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

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

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

"Cyn-"

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

"Cyndi, Blackey's not dead!"

"He's not?"

"No! We're moving!"

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

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

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

"Duh!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where do I go?"

"The couch! And march!"

I marched to the couch, giggling.

"CYNDI!!!"

"Okay, sorry."

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

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

"Never mind!"

I looked at the list.

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

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

"Hey, why all this?!!"

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

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

"Never!" agreed Dad.

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

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

No dessert - 1 wk.
Grounded - 1 wk.

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

"Well... "

"Is it okay?"

I grinned. "Yes!"

***

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

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

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

Ha, ha!

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



Chapter Six

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

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

"Honey, you're grounded."

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

"Well ... okay."

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

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

(Because she's a stalker?)

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

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

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

"Hmmm!" Stacie slammed the door.

"How rude!"

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

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

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

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

"What happened to your parents?!"

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

"Oh, Carrie!"

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

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

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

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

"CARRIE!" (uh oh!)

"Wha-what?"

"Lunch!"

"O-okay, Aunt Jo-Josephine!"

"Why are you stuttering?" I asked.

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

I hid under Carrie's bed.

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

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

"Yeah?"

"Can I trust you to keep a secret?"

"Um, yeah!"

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

"Oh, oh no!"

Carrie sighed.

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

"Okay."

"I'm leaving! Bye!"

"Bye!"

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

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

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

"Oh, gosh!"

"I know. I'm so sorry."

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

"Bye."

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

I slowly walked home.

***

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

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

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

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

Carrie and the Search For a Friend - the VERY dramatic conclusion

I'm pretty sure I was getting bored with writing about Carrie and Sandra by this point, or maybe I was just eager to finally finish another one of my stories. Either way, these last two chapters (especially the end) make the rest of the book look like absolute genius. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Chapter Ten

That night, after I took my bath, I ran downstairs.

"What's for dinner, Josephine?" I asked.

"Soup," said Josephine. "One spoonful of tomato soup."

I ate my spoonful of soup. When I was done, Josephine came inside the kitchen and yanked my hair.

"Come see this, you little brat!" She dragged me upstairs to the bathroom by the hair and threw me in the bathtub, which was still full of water. "You didn't let the water OUT!!!"

I tried to get out of the tub, but I couldn't. Josephine pushed my face into the water. She held it there for a long time. When I finally came up, I was coughing badly, and Josephine was laughing.

(Where did I GET this?!!)

I couldn't believe it. Josephine had practically drowned me and all she was doing was laughing!

I changed into some torn pants and a torn shirt and fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next day I woke up and ate a chocolate chip cookie. (Josephine said I could.) Then I got dressed. I decided to go to the Soda Shoppe by myself.

(Right after breakfast? Well, I suppose that cookie wouldn't be very filling... I'm surprised Josephine gave her a whole one!)

I ordered a root beer float and one of those mini strawberry cheesecakes. I sipped my float. Then I ate some of the ice cream on top of the float. I decided to stay out all day.

"CARRIE LYNN PACKER!" I heard Josephine's voice call outside.

(In my book, Josephine yells Carrie's name in letters so big they take up six whole pages! I was definitely eager to finish this.)

Uh-oh. I was in hot water now.

I looked around to see where she was. I saw her standing by a store called Lindsay's. I walked over there.

"Come with me!," she hissed. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside Lindsay's to the bathroom. She looked around. No one was there. She threw me against the wall.

"You rotten creep. You know you're not supposed to leave the house without my permission." She slapped me in the face.

(Uh, how did Josephine magically know Carrie was at the Soda Shoppe?)

Josephine and I walked home. Then she started yelling.

"I hate you, you good-for-nothing idiot! You're a creep!" She hit me on the hand so hard I started to bleed.

That did it.

"Do you think I like living with you? I hate child abuse! I've always hated child abuse! And now I'm a victim of child abuse!"

(You tell her, Carrie! On second thought...)

That did it for Josephine. She grabbed the whip. Uh-oh.

She kept on muttering things about making the whip hurt more. Oh, no.

"YOU!" She slashed me with the whip on my back. "ARE NOT GOING TO TALK LIKE THAT..." She slashed me again. "EVER AGAIN!" She slashed me one more time. By that time, I was on the ground in tears.

"I hate you, Josephine! I hate you!"

I ran and ran to Sandra's house. (Where else?) Mrs. Marcus wasn't there.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Sandra, it's my aunt!"

"What did she do this time?"

"Well ... she whipped me three times with a real whip! You know, one of those circus whips?"

Sandra's eyes were very round. "Golly, I never thought she'd do something like that. I thought you were just lying."

(snicker)

"I wasn't lying. Sandra, I hate that woman and I'm never going home again!"

Sandra just raised her eyebrows. "Carrie, do you want to go over to Harvey's house with me? I saw him yesterday. I know where he lives."

I shrugged. "Okay."

(Well, Carrie obviously isn't THAT traumatized by Josephine's whip.)

We walked about a block away to a yellow house. Sandra rang the bell.

Harvey answered. "Sandra! Hi, Carrie. Why don't you two come in?"

(That's how all 11-year-old boys talk.)

As soon as we were inside, Harvey and Sandra began to chat. I watched some soap opera. Finally, I heard the words, "Sandra, will you go out with me?" Sandra said yes, and soon we were on our way back to Sandra's house.

"Hey, Carrie. If Mom's home, why don't we ask her if we could go over to that lake at the bottom of Woodland. We could pack a picnic lunch and it will be real fun."

"Yeah," I said, grinning.

Mrs. Marcus said yes. She packed her own lunch and gave Sandra and I the same lunch: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread, one of those mini cartons of macaroni salad, a slice of cake, a chocolate chip cookie, and a thermos full of fruit punch.

(Healthy. I've lost count of how many chocolate chip cookies have appeared in this story.)

Soon we were at the park. We picked a table and sat down. "Let's eat first so it'll be out of the way," said Mrs. Marcus.

We ate peacefully. It was a pleasant summer day. There were a few clouds, and a nice, cool breeze, but the sun was shining.

Just as I was finishing the last of my macaroni salad, Sandra said, "Hey, Carrie, let's go over by the lake!"

"Okay," I said. We sat on the grass right by the lake. We were silent for awhile.

"Mmm," Sandra said a couple of minutes later. "Harvey is so cute!"

"Hmm," I said.

Sandra looked horrified. Then she grinned, and the next thing I knew, she pushed me in the lake!

My foot went down till it hit the bottom. I kept on going up and down in the water until I was in the middle. (huh?) Then Sandra waded to the middle and dunked my head.

"Ha, ha! Ha, ha! You're so stupid! I never liked you, Carrie Packer!," Sandra said gleefully. People everywhere were laughing and pointing.

I sat in the middle of the lake, shivering. Then I ran all the way home.

(That must be one shallow lake for Carrie to be able to sit in the middle of it. Poor, poor Carrie. Was Mrs. Marcus laughing and pointing, too?)


Chapter Eleven

"CARRIE LYNN PACKER!" Josephine yelled when I walked in the door.

"I'm sorry," I said in a tiny voice.

"SORRY! YOU JUST RAN OUT ON ME LIKE SOME KIND OF WHO KNOWS WHAT, AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS SORRY?" Josephine screeched. "Get out of my house! Now! NOW!!! NEOW!"

I ran out of the house, sobbing. It was no use anymore. I had no home to go to, no friends to turn to for help. I might as well just give up. Mom was killed instantly, but Dad just kind of ... gave up. Why shouldn't I?

I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I walked out into the middle of the street. A black sports car was coming toward me. I heard the screech of tires, and someone holler, "STOP!!!"

Then I was in the street, unconscious. There was a big cut in the middle of my forehead.

(Oh no! What kind of crazy people drive on that street? First Tabatha, now Carrie... )

The driver got out of the car, and people started coming out of their houses, including Josephine.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" (The driver?) "Is she dead?" "Make sure she's breathing!" "Call the police, dummies!" "Don't call people dummies, Christine."

Soon police cars and an ambulance were here. I was lifted in an ambulance by a stretcher and driven to the hospital. Only I wasn't awake to enjoy it.

At the hospital they did several things. (Like maybe questioned Josephine about why Carrie had finger marks on her arm and whip marks across her back?) They found out I had a bad concussion and was in a coma. I might not wake up from the coma, either ... ever.

I wasn't put in ICU, but I was in a thing kind of like ICU. (whatever that means...) I couldn't have any visitors that whole day, except Josephine.

Two hours later, they thought I wasn't going to make it. But one hour later, I guess I made some movement, because I could kind of hear the people talking.

About half an hour later, I opened my eyes and found Josephine's face peering into mine.

(Creepy!)

"Oh, Carrie!," she said. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! PLEASE!"

"Okay, okay."

"THANK YOU!"

***
Three days later, Cyndi dropped by. "Oh, Carrie!," she said. "I'm so sorry!"

"I'm sorry, Cyndi! I was so jerky for thinking Sandra was my friend. Sandra is about the worst friend anybody could get! I should just give up."

"Carrie, no! Nothing works when you give up. Believe me. Don't give up. Believe in yourself. Just believe in yourself."

(Oh, jeez...I apologize for this.)

"CARRIE!"

"Oh, that's Josephine. She's become so weird!"

"CARRIE! YOU GET TO GO HOME!"

Yea!

I knew I wasn't going to give up. Cyndi had told me that. Sandy would never have told me that.

I couldn't wait until I got home from the hospital. Everything would be back to normal.

The End

***

Okay, that was truly the worst ending EVER! Carrie can't wait until everything is "back to normal"? She wants to be starved and whipped and forced to wear bell bottoms and live in a Sesame Street room?

Actually, after Carrie and the Search For a Friend, Josephine turns into a "lovably wacky" aunt whose abusive history is virtually forgotten! BSC and Sweet Valley didn't care about continuity; why should I?

I'll leave you with the teaser that I wrote specially for the back of the book:

Carrie Packer wants a new friend. Her old friends are the ones who practically caused her parents' death!

Then Carrie meets Sandra. Sandy seems perfect. Carrie and Sandra hang out all the time.

But Carrie's real friends know the truth about Sandra. She's just using Carrie and might hurt her. But Carrie doesn't seem to notice because of her aunt Josephine.

Will Carrie's friends stop Sandra .. or will it be too late?


Coming up ... more fun with Lisa and the Angels! The next one will be a little less drama-filled. I hope that's alright.

Carrie and the Search For a Friend Pt. 4

As promised, this next segment reveals the truth about Sandra Marcus! It's really shocking. You won't at all have seen it coming.

Also, Josephine is a little ... disturbing in Chapter 8 (though not as much as in Chapter 10, which I'll post later this week). Other than Don't Hurt Laurie, I don't remember specifically any of the books that I read about abuse -- though almost everything I wrote back then was influenced by some book or TV show. Were there beatings on "Little House on the Prarie"? I don't know. Anyway, whatever I read or watched that inspired Josephine, maybe I shouldn't have been reading or watching it!

With that said...

Chapter Seven

I was at the studio now, practicing for the concert.

"I never meant to hurt you..." Lisa was singing a song from our tape out right now, In the Land of Dreams. The song was called "My Best Friend."

(It was Lisa and the Angels' "biggest hit." I'll post the lyrics when I can.)

We finished practicing for the day and I left. But my friends (?) stayed. Cyndi told me about their conversation several days later.

(Well, thanks, Carrie. If you were wondering if she made up with her friends, I guess you don't have to wonder anymore.)

"I met Carrie's new friend today," said Stacie. "I was at Tabatha's funeral. So was she. Her name is Sandra. She seems very odd to me."

"Sandra what?" Lisa asked slowly.

"Marcus. Do you know her?"

Lisa clenched her fists and took a deep breath. "Sandy Marcus is the biggest snob I have ever seen! She's a backstabber and she hardly has any friends! She's liked this boy Harvey since about May but she hasn't been able to get him. She's used tons of girls to get to him, and she's ended up hurting all of them."

(Omg! But how does Lisa know all this and not Carrie? Lisa, Carrie, and Cyndi were all supposed to be the "popular" Angels. The other three were the nerds. In case you were wondering.)

"Do you think she's using Carrie?" Kathy asked quietly.

Lisa snorted. "Probably! That girl gets on my nerves! She's in my math class. I hate her guts!"

Racquelle sniffled. "I remember when I had that huge fight with Carrie a little while ago."

(Some book I never actually wrote.)

Cyndi sighed.

"Carrie was the first human friend I ever had."

Pretty soon, Kathy, Racquelle, and Cyndi were crying, Stacie was getting ready to cry, and Lisa was giving them all dirty looks.

"Come on," she said. "Carrie's a good friend but this isn't a cry fest!"

"Okay, okay."

***

I was looking at my yearbook.

(And here, in my book, this sentence is followed by three actual "yearbook" pages full of kids that I drew. I so wish I could scan them but unfortunately I don't have a scanner. Someday I hope I can post them. A lot of the boys have "spiky" hair comprised of five little lines on top of their heads. This was 1990 so a lot of the girls had "perms", which I drew as little squiggles. And their arms are all freakishly short and only go to the middle of their chests.)

"Carrie!" I heard Josephine call.

Oh, no. I ran downstairs. "What?"

Josephine was holding a brown box with lots of tiny holes in it.

"Open this," said Josephine. She walked off.

I opened the box. Inside it was a tiny sandy-colored puppy. He peered up at me.

"Oh!" I said. I picked him up. What should I name it?

"Is it a boy or a girl?" I called.

"A boy, you stupid idiot!"

Nicky? Nah, he didn't look like a Nicky. (Nicky was one of our family dogs.) Ahtabat? Ahtabat was stupid. (Tabatha backwards.)

I know! Sandy! I'd call him Sandy!

(Sandy's his name if you please ... Did Carrie name him after Annie or her new friend? Actually, I think Sandy might also have been one of our puppies.)

I hugged Sandy to my chest. He was special, all right. But he would never take the place of Tabby.

Chapter Eight

The next day I woke up and put on baggy bell-bottom jeans and a tight white T-shirt with Big Bird on it.

I ate my breakfast, half of a chocolate chip cookie. Then I exercised for an hour.

Josephine burst into my room with a belt. "You weren't supposed to have that cookie! You weren't supposed to have anything!" I flinched as she hit me with the belt on the arm. Then she hit me again, making me fall down. She kept on hitting me in different places until she hit me extra hard on the back and made me scream.

(Okay, I am so glad I didn't show this to a teacher!)

When she left, I shivered. She had been cruel before but never had beaten me with a belt!

There were some bruises forming so I decided to stay inside most of the day, but I'd go over to Sandra's and I had to practice.

***

Ding-dong. I rang Sandra Marcus's bell one hour later. Mrs. Marcus answered.

"Hello, Carrie," she said. Then she gasped and pointed to my arm. "What happened?"

Josephine had left a big belt mark on my arm, right under the finger marks she had left before.

"Oh, nothing," I said. I know I was red. Mrs. Marcus looked at me strangely but let me walk to Sandra's room.

(Okay, not that this story isn't completely ridiculous, but if it was real, Mrs. Marcus = failure.)

Sandra was wearing skintight stirrup pants and a baggy, checked cardigan-like sweater. "Oh," she said. "It's you. What happened to your arm?"

I paused and bit my lip.

"Well?" asked Sandra.

If I could tell Cyndi, I could tell Sandy. "My aunt," I said.

"Your aunt did that?" asked Sandra.

"Yes."

"Oh," said Sandra. "What are you over here for?"

I shrugged.

"Well, I've got a great idea. I want you to meet Harvey."

"Harvey?" I asked.

"Yes. The boy I love. He'll be at Woodland Park. He's in the chess club and they're meeting there today."

(Sandra = stalker.)

"Okay," I said. Sandra ran downstairs to ask her mom something. Then she came back up.

"My mom said we should walk. It's a long walk but it's worth it. The park is beautiful."

"I know," I said. The park had streams and toys and a big field for picnics. It looked just like a forest. There were lots of trees and tables and barbecues and log cabins to play in and eat in. It was wonderful.

"Well, quit daydreaming. Come on!" Sandra handed me a blue jean jacket. "Put this on. It will cover your arm."

The jacket was too big. But I put it on anyway.

We walked about two miles. Then we stopped at Burger King.

"I don't have any money," I said.

Sandra groaned and handed me some money. "Pay me back tomorrow!" she practically yelled.

We both ordered Whoppers, medium fries, and strawberry milkshakes. I was hungry. Besides that cookie, I hadn't eaten since my birthday, two days ago.

We ate in silence, then we walked the rest of the way to Woodland. (What was the point of stopping at Burger King?) Sandra and I found the table where the chess club was at. Harvey and nine other kids were watching a boy and a girl play chess. A man was standing beside the chess players. Three people I recognized from Albany Middle School were there. Harvey, Heather Muirhead, and a seventh grader named Brian Floyd.

Harvey noticed us. "Hey, Sandra," he said, grinning. "Your friend looks familiar."

(Oh, brother.)

"Yup," said Sandra, grinning back. "This is Carrie Packer from Lisa and the Angels."

"Hi, Sandy. Hi, Carrie. Sandy, do you want to play chess?"

Sandra pretended to look worried. "I'd love to. But I don't know how." She grinned at Harvey. "Maybe you could teach me."

"Oh, sure," said Harvey. He tapped the man on the shoulder. "Mr. Ament, this is Carrie and Sandra. Sandy wants to play chess."

"That's fine with me. Carrie, Sandra, my name is Paul Ament. I'm a counselor at Albany Private Academy."

"Hi," we both said.

The girl, who was going to be a freshman at A.P.A., named Margie, won. Next, Sandy and Harvey played. Harvey won.

(This is all very fascinating. Also, what's with the names. Harvey, Margie ... these are kids?)

"Um, Sandra, I've really got to get to the studio. Bye."

Sandra didn't answer.

The studio was about two miles away. I walked over there but I realized I still had Sandra's jacket on. I'd give it back to her tomorrow.

At the studio, we practiced the concert, of course. Then I went home, but my friends (?) decided to go to the Soda Shoppe instead.

"Why do they call this the Soda Shoppe?" asked Stacie on the way. "It doesn't sell just soda. It sells ice cream and soda and brownies and fruit and dessert."

They all shrugged. My friends (ugh! were they my friends or not?) walked up to the counter.

"Hmm," said Racquelle. "I'd like a pink bubblegum ice cream cone with three scoops and a waffle cone."

The waiter started to make her cone. Another waiter stepped up.

(Apparently I thought anybody who worked in some sort of eating establishment was called a "waiter.")

"What would you like, miss?" he asked Kathy. Kathy ordered a mini blueberry cheesecake. Stacie ordered a bowl of mint-chocolate chip ice cream. Cyndi ordered a vanilla fudge cone. Lisa ordered a small pistachio almond pudding cone.

(Gasp, Lisa ordered food! What the heck is a pudding cone?)

They sat down at this one booth for six. On the other side of the booth, they heard some familiar laughing and talking.

"She's so weird!" said a voice. Lisa peered over the side. When she saw who it was, she looked at the others and gagged. "Juel, Shauna, and Sandra," she said. Juel Eisenhower and Shauna Mack were two snobs, and as it turned out, they were Sandra's best friends.

"I mean," said Sandra. "She's a total space case! Carrie Packer is the weirdest girl I ever met!"

My friends (?) gasped.

"Even nerdier than On?" asked Juel.

"Nerdier than On and Bertha and Alicia or any of those other local celebrities that I used to get Harvey. But Carrie is a big celebrity. Not just local. And Harvey was really interested this time!"

"What's Carrie gonna do when Harvey and you are going out?" asked Shauna.

"Oh," said Sandra. "I'm going to play a little trick on Carrie. When Harvey and I are going out, I'll ask Mom and me to take Carrie to that one lake at the bottom of Woodland Park. Everybody's there in the summer. Then, in front of everybody, I'll push her in the deep end of the lake!"

Juel, Shauna, and Sandra left.

Cyndi bit her lip. Stacie and Kathy looked at eachother, their mouths wide open. Racquelle looked very cross. And Lisa kept shaking her head and saying, "I told you so."

Nobody knew what to do.

****

Oh, NO! Well, there's the truth about Sandra. She's just using Carrie! Can you believe it? (Never mind the question of why stupid Harvey has a thing for girls with famous friends.)

Coming up -- the dramatic conclusion! After I'm done with this story, I'm not sure what to post next. I don't have a lot of them at my apartment. In fact, Carrie and the Search For a Friend is my only COMPLETE Lisa and the Angels story. However, I do have some of Murder (where the girls witness a murder) and Kidnapped! (where Carrie and Racquelle are kidnapped by twin sisters) and a little bit of The Performance (where Lisa and the Angels go to Disneyland). I also have a story from my other "series", The Fruitville Orphanage for Girls, where the orphans put on a production of "The Little Mermaid." Does anyone have a preference?
Hopefully I can find more at my parents' house!

Carrie and the Search for a Friend Pt. 3

Thanks to everyone who has read and commented on this "masterpiece" so far! Now that Carrie has already found her new friend, let's see what happens next...

Chapter Five

Dear Racquelle,
Thank you for the nail polish. It's very pretty. I'm sorry I can't be your friend, but I just can't.
You've been a good friend. I'll miss you. But I can't keep you.
Love,
Carrie P.

I was writing notes to Racquelle, Cyndi, Kathy, Stacie, and Lisa.
(Note, in my book, Carrie's "handwriting" looks remarkably similar to Stacey McGill from the BSC's, with heart-dotted I's and everything.)

I was saying thank you for their presents. As you know, Racquelle had given me a bottle of nail polish. It was beige, and it was pretty.
(it doesn't sound very pretty...)

I sighed. My birthday was almost over. I started another note.

Dear Cyndi,
Thanks for the jewelry box, even if I have to hide it in my closet. (Josephine might find it.)
I'm sorry I can't be your friend. You've been a GREAT best friend.
Love, Carrie P

(Don't worry, Carrie, she'll probably just slap a Big Bird sticker on it or something.)

Dear Kathy,
Thank you for the diary. I've always wanted one, and you know I like to write.
I'm sorry I can't be your friend. You've been a great friend.
Love, Carrie P.

Dear Stacie,
Thank you for the locket. It's pretty, and I think Josephine will let me wear it.
I'm sorry I can't be your friend. You've been a good one.
Love, Carrie P.

Dear Lisa,
Thank you for the music note ring. It's pretty.
I know you're mad. I'm sorry I can't be your friend. You've been a great friend.
Love, Carrie P.

I was finished with my notes. I put them all in white envelopes and put everybody's name on their envelope. I put the envelopes in my white purse with Cookie Monster eating a chocolate-chip cookie on it.

I checked my Rainbow Brite watch. 8:38 pm.

(Only 8:38? Carrie has already gone to the doctor, recorded an album, practiced for a concert, dumped her friends, made a new friend, cooked a dinner, and wrote a bunch of notes all in one day, and it's not even dark yet!)

I put on my dumb nightgown. I walked downstairs. Josephine started to laugh and point.

I put my hands on my hips. "What's so funny?"

"You!" said Josephine. "You look so funny!"

"Do you want to see the one who looks funny? If you do, look in the mirror," I snapped.

(Oooh! Bad move, Carrie.)

Josephine started to run toward me. She shook the whole house.

She yanked my arm, hard. I thought she was going to tear it off. She slapped me in the face.

"Don't you ever say that again!" she yelled. "Ever!" She slapped me again.

"Okay!" I yelled. (I'm lucky I'm not a big crier like Kathy. Josephine might have killed me by now if I was!)

I walked toward the refrigerator. I ate some cold tuna casserole I hadn't finished. I thought about Josephine.

Then I went upstairs and fell asleep.

(Such DRAMA! And it only gets worse...)

Chapter Six

I woke up the next day and put on some bell-bottom plaid pants and a tight pink polo shirt. I put my hair in two pigtails. Then I ran downstairs. When Josephine yanked my arm yesterday, it made finger marks, so I put on one of those button-down hot pink sweaters that looked like cardigans.

(I'm guessing that Carrie is simply referring to a cardigan sweater here, although your guess is as good as mine.)

"Josephine," I said when I saw her in the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

"Nothing. Get to exercising!"

I sighed. Josephine makes me exercise a lot to stay skinny. (Bizarre...) By the way she feeds me, there's no chance of me ever getting fat. But at least she doesn't starve me like she used to. I had to lie and tell my (former) friends that I weighed like sixty pounds when I was really forty.

I exercised for half an hour.

"Look," said Josephine. "A real whip. When you're bad..." She made that 'du du du du du' noise that means trouble.

(I think Carrie means dum dum dum dum... and where did Josephine get the whip? Do we even want to know?)

I gulped. There was a real whip. I'd better be good.

Tabatha walked into the room. Her green collar with the silver bells jangled.

"Get that mutt outside!" Josephine yelled.

"Josephine," I said calmly. "It's only 8:30 in the morning. Tabatha's ten years old. Her eyesight's poor."

Josephine lifted the whip. "Take her outside!" she screeched.

I gasped, and let Tabatha out the front door.

A couple of minutes later, I heard some tires screech, and a car stopped.

I opened the door. Across the street, I saw an olive green station wagon. And in the middle of the street was Tabatha, surrounded by a pool of blood!

"Tabatha!" I shrieked. I dashed outside, and Josephine followed, grinning. (over-the-top much?) She probably paid the driver of that car to hit poor Tabatha!

I knelt by Tabatha. Tears were streaming down my face.

"Tabatha," I kept on saying. "Tabatha."

(Aww, poor Tabatha. It's all Ann M. Martin's fault. The pet-hit-by-a-car scene was ripped off from inspired by With You and Without You, and Tabatha is a collie, just like Louie in Kristy and the Snobs.)

Our next-door neighbor, an old man who calls himself plain old Harry, came outside. So did Stacie and a couple of other people.

"I'll take her to the vet," said a woman named Mrs. Bronze.

"Now, Nancy," said Mr. Bronze. But Mrs. Bronze picked up Tabatha in a blanket, and the Bronzes drove to the vet.

I was still crying. I knew the vet wasn't going to do anything but say something or other about Tabatha's body. Tabatha was dead. It was only obvious.

I started to run. I ran 14 blocks away, to Sandra's house.

I knocked on the door. Sandra answered. She looked wonderful again. She was wearing webbed spandex tights, a very very very baggy blue-green sweater, blue-green push-down socks, and those snakeskin pattern tennis shoes. Those large, glittery brown eyes were glittering again. She had tons of makeup on again. Her hair was down, and it reached to her shoulders.

(Wow, Carrie sounds smitten. Um, isn't Sandra wearing a skirt with her "webbed spandex tights", whatever those even are?)

"What are you doing here?"

"My dog died. Tabatha's gone," I said bitterly.

(Okay, that would so freak me out if some girl I'd just met the day before showed up on my doorstep and said that. Even if she was a famous pop star.)

Sandra shrugged. "Have a funeral." She let me inside.

"A funeral for a dog?" I said.

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

"Okay," I said. "I'll have it in half an hour."

"I like someone," said Sandra. "He's a very cute boy. His name is Harvey. He likes seeing girls around famous people." (snicker...) Sandra paused.

"So," I said.

"SO!!!" yelled Sandra. "Carrie, this is the cutest boy in Albany -- and all you can say is so?!! Get out of my house! Get out of my house, neow! I'll be at your funeral!"

I ran all the way back to my house.

***

Tabatha had died. Josephine said she was going to buy me a new puppy, but I doubt it. Even if she did, it would never take the place of Tabatha.

It was time for the funeral. Sandra was there, Stacie was there, Stacie's two-year-old sister Sheena was there, and for some reason, Christie Wellman was there. Harry was there, also.

I gave Stacie the notes I had written yesterday night. "Give these to everybody," I said.

"Carrie, I know I wasn't invited, but Sheena wanted to come, and she also wanted Christie to come."

I sighed. "It's alright." Christie walked over to me.

"Carrie, are you sad?" she asked.

"Yes," I sighed.

"I bet Joe never had to go through this," Christie muttered.
('Joe' as in McIntyre, of course...)

Harry started to build a gravestone for Tabatha. I dug a hole to bury her in.

I sighed. (Stop sighing!) I remember the last funeral I had been to. Mom and Dad's.

First was their burial. I don't remember much of that. Then was the funeral. I had sat in the very front. I hadn't wanted to cry at first, but in the end, I had buckled down and bawled like a baby. (This was so plagiarized from The Outsiders...) I couldn't help it. I had been very close to Mom, and Dad was about the nicest Dad you could get. If it wasn't for Racquelle, Kathy, and Lisa, their funeral never would have happened.

We buried Tabatha. "What do you want on the gravestone?" asked Harry. I shrugged. Harry put this:

HERE LIES TABATHA
A Great Dog
Rest In Peace
(insert smiley face drawing)

That didn't make me feel any better, though.

"Let's all say something nice about Tabatha," said Sandra stiffly. "I'll go first. I didn't know Tabatha but I bet she was a good dog. A good collie, that is."

Christie was next. "I bet Joe would've liked sweet ol' Tagafa."

"Tabatha," said Stacie.

Sheena was next. She sighed. "I liked Tagafa better than Blackey." (Cyndi's Yorkie.)

Stacie's turn.

"Tabatha was the sweetest dog I knew. I don't usually like dogs, but I liked Tabby."

Harry's turn.

"I'm a lonely old man. Tabatha kept me company. When Carrie was at school, she always played fetch. Tabatha was a good old dog with a lot of energy."

My turn. The tears came to my eyes.

"I loved her," I choked out.

"Let's sing a song," said Sandra.

"What?" I asked. "What song?"

"Please don't go, girl. You will ruin my whole world. Tell me you'll stay. Never, ever go away," sang Christie.

"Why that?" asked Sandra. "I hate that."

Christie looked hurt. "Well, I don't. Joey sings it. And besides, Tagafa was a girl, and we don't want her to go, so we're singing Please don't go..."

"Shut up," said Sandra. She started to sing a made-up song of hers.

"I'll miss you,
Tabatha.
I'll miss you,
Tabatha.
I'll miss you.
I'll miss you.
Tabatha,
I'll miss you."

We all began to sing along. "I'll miss you, Tabatha. I'll miss you, Tabatha. I'll miss you. I'll miss you. Tabatha, I'll miss you."

***

Isn't that touching. These were short chapters. Coming up -- the truth about Sandra! And Josephine gets even meaner!

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!!!