Can You Say Catastrophe? Read online

  Saturday, April 20, 11:45 p.m.

  My 13th birthday

  (Unfortunately)

  Here’s the good news: My instincts were right.

  Here’s the bad news: My birthday party was so much worse than I could have ever imagined.

  April Sinclair just wants what any normal thirteen-year-old would want: to disown her parents and obnoxious little sisters; to escape to summer camp ASAP with her two best friends, Billy and Brynn; and to make a good impression on Matt Parker, the hot new boy next door.

  Unfortunately, Matt witnesses April’s utter humiliation at her birthday party. Then Billy kisses her. Just as April is trying to figure things out, her parents cancel her camp plans in lieu of a family RV trip. A summer of babysitting her sisters and “re-bonding” with her family isn’t how she imagined life as a teenager. And it certainly won’t help her straighten out her feelings about Billy or Matt. Is there any silver lining to a road trip in The Clunker with her family of misfits?

  © 2013 by Laurie Friedman

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

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  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.

  Typeface provided by Linotype AG.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Friedman, Laurie B., 1964–

  Can you say catastrophe? / by Laurie Friedman.

  pages cm. — (The mostly miserable life of April Sinclair, #1)

  ISBN 978–1–4677–0925–5 (trade hard cover : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978–1–4677–1620–8 (eBook)

  [1. Family life—Fiction. 2. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.F89773Cao 2013

  [Fic]—dc23

  2012048867

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1 – BP – 7/15/13

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-1620-8 (pdf)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-3326-7 (ePub)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-3325-0 (mobi)

  For my parents and my sisters.

  My story began at home.

  Home is where your story begins.

  Saturday, April 20, 11:45 P.M.

  My 13th birthday

  (Unfortunately)

  Here’s the good news: my instincts were right.

  Here’s the bad news: The party was so much worse than I could have ever imagined. It was the most embarrassing day of my entire life.

  It started when I woke up this morning, but it went from bad to catastrophic when Dad made May, June, and me all make a wish and blow out our candles. I wished for a downpour so the party would be over, but the sky stayed light blue with little puffy white clouds, and I knew my wish wasn’t coming true. It’s too bad, because what happened after everyone ate birthday pie was like one of those moments in a movie that’s so awful, you can’t believe the filmmaker thought it up because it would never happen in real life. But in this case, it did.

  I was talking to Billy and Brynn, and May walked over. “You want me to pick you up?” she asked Billy. He laughed and told May he’d love to see her try. So May grabbed Billy by the legs and lifted him up (pretty easily, actually) and held him in the air long enough to get the attention of her friends, who walked over to see what was going on.

  “Who else wants to be picked up?” she asked.

  Before I knew it, there was a lineup of ten-year-olds who wanted to see if May could pick them up. One by one, she picked up everyone in the line and held them in the air for a few seconds. Her friends were cheering. May was grinning.

  “I bet you can’t pick up somebody really big,” one of her friends said.

  May nodded her head like she accepted the dare, and then she looked around the backyard. Her eyes stopped on the tallest kid at the party—Matt Parker.

  She started across the yard to where he was standing. I didn’t like where this was going. “Don’t!” I yelled. I tried to grab May and stop her, but before I could, she had her arms wrapped around Matt’s legs. The next thing I knew, he was hovering five inches above the ground.

  Matt looked like he couldn’t believe some little kid was lifting him off the ground. I couldn’t either. Everyone crowded around and watched as May held Matt up for what felt like forever. There was clapping and whistling. Matt looked like he was in shock.

  “Who are you?” asked May when she finally put him down.

  Matt regained his composure and smiled.

  He has the whitest teeth and the cutest smile. My heart stopped.

  “Matt Parker. I just moved in next door.”

  For a brief second, I thought maybe the worst was over, but that’s when June decided to chime in. She looked right at Matt. “April said you’re hot and that she doesn’t even know you yet but she already has a crush on you.”

  I couldn’t believe what I heard—what everyone over the age of six and under fourteen in Faraway, Alabama, heard too. I had to do some damage control. “What are you talking about?” I made a face like no one should believe a word that was coming out of June’s mouth.

  But June was nodding her head like she knew exactly what she was talking about. She pointed at me. “I heard you say those exact words to Brynn just a few minutes ago.”

  Everyone looked at Brynn. I tried to send a message to her brain to be a good best friend and tell everyone that my sister was a pathological liar. But unfortunately, that’s not what Brynn did. She just stood there and grinned, like she thought the whole thing was funny.

  Later, Brynn tried to explain that all she did was smile and that she didn’t confirm that what June said was true. But here’s the problem: she didn’t say it wasn’t true either!

  Everyone was looking at me. I heard whispers and laughter. And just like that, I was stuck in the middle of the worst moment of my life. Matt raised his eyebrows at me, shook his head without saying anything, and then walked off. But his face said it all, and what it said was, get me out of here!

  All I can say is, Matt Parker, take me with you! Take me somewhere far away. But wait! The joke’s on me—I’m already in Faraway.

  Sunday, April 21, 9:14 A.M.

  In bed

  Where I plan to stay

  For a very long time

  I don’t know if it’s because as a teenager, my brain is capable of more complex thought or if what I’m about to write is just blatantly obvious, but there are ten very clear reasons why my life is miserable.

  1. My mom, Flora. She was put on this planet to embarrass me. To be fair, she wasn’t too bad during my first decade. But ever since I “went preteen” (Mom’s words, not mine), it’s like she ate some bad fish and hasn’t been the same since.

  2. My dad, Rex. He was put here to embarrass me too. My dad used to write a relationship advice column in our local newspaper. Now he’s opening a restaurant called The Love Doctor Diner, so he’ll be serving up advice and food.

  3. My little sister May, age nine, almost ten, a.k.a. “The Brawn.” Yesterday was Exhibit A of why having the strongest kid in town as a little sister is not always a good thing.

  4. My baby sister, June, soon to be seven, a.k.a. “The Brain.” Her motto in life is “Listen. Remember. Repeat.” Mom says I need to be careful when June is around. I say my parents need to buy a muz
zle and use it.

  5. My dog, Gilligan. All he likes to do is run away from home. I don’t blame him. I’d like to run away too.

  6. My town. I live in Faraway, Alabama. Yes, pronounced “far away.” Some girls have it so good. When they meet people, they get to say things like, “Hi, I’m Chloe from New York,” or “I’m Jasmine from Los Angeles.” But I have to say, “I’m April from Faraway.” Imagine the looks you get with that one.

  7. My nose. It’s shaped like a ball of bread dough. Brynn told me I should be doing this exercise where you press two fingers against the sides of your nose for twenty minutes a day to give it shape. So far, no results.

  8. My butt. It’s tiny. A lot of girls at school have nice round butts—Billy says they’re bootylicious. I plan on asking God for some help in the bootylicious department, but I want him to get to the boob thing first. (See below.)

  9. My boobs. They’re uneven. One is an A. The other is a B. THIS CAN’T BE NORMAL! I need to Google this to see what can be done.

  10. My mouth. Quite often it says the wrong thing. Especially when it is talking to cute boys.

  Ten more reasons …

  Ha! Just kidding. I could go on like this all day.

  I really could.

  3:42 P.M.

  Still stuck on yesterday

  I don’t want to think about my birthday party, but it’s all my brain will let me think about. And what I keep thinking is that I should have known it was going to be a disaster. There were so many signs, from the moment I opened my eyes, and I ignored them all.

  I should have known when May and June woke me up wearing matching floral patchwork pants and T-shirts that Mom had obviously made and sneakers with sunflowers glued on them, and Mom handed me a third matching outfit.

  I should have known when June started rambling about a birthday party for the three of us with a “Spring Has Sprung” theme, and a sign that Mom hung in the backyard that said “Celebrate Our Spring Flowers, April, May, and June,” and a Pin the Stem on the Rose game that Dad set up.

  I should have known when I reminded Mom that I wanted to have a skating party and she said, “April, everyone has skating parties. Dare to be different. Your father and I have put a lot of time and thought into all of your birthdays this year. Today will be unique!”

  I should have known when Billy and Brynn showed up—my best friends, the ones who are supposed to love me more than anyone (except maybe my family who doesn’t really count)—and couldn’t stop laughing at what I was wearing.

  I should have known when I saw that the party was catered by Dad’s new restaurant. Dad stuck signs in all the food saying “From the Love Doctor Diner—Grand opening Friday, May 3!” It was like half party, half promotional event.

  And I definitely should have known it was going to be a disaster when Matt Parker, world’s hottest new boy next door, showed up and introduced himself, to which I replied “Welcome to the neighborhood!” like an old lady. And then, of course, I told Brynn—apparently too loudly—“He’s so hot. I don’t even know him, and I already have a crush on him.”

  The rest is history.

  I read this quote once that said, “The past is history. The future is a mystery. All we have is the present.” That might be true, but what I know at present is that I should have seen the signs and spent my thirteenth birthday in bed. I’m not blaming myself entirely, though. I blame my parents. I wasn’t part of the planning that went into having three daughters born in the spring and naming them all after their birth months, and I certainly didn’t ask to have a party with my sisters where we all wore matching outfits.

  I hate my birthday. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true. I’ve been scarred for life. And I’m only thirteen.

  It’s the friends you can call up at 4 A.M. that matter.

  —Marlene Dietrich

  Thursday, April 25, 5:35 P.M.

  Just home from Billy’s house

  Super fun but super weird afternoon

  This afternoon at Billy’s started out really fun, but then something happened that I wasn’t expecting, and super fun turned to super weird.

  Fun part first. Billy and Brynn and I went to Billy’s after school to finish our Science Fair project. (That wasn’t the fun part.) After we put everything on our display board and wrote our conclusion, we were sitting on the floor of Billy’s family room drinking lemonade and eating popcorn and mini Reese’s—our snacks of choice since third grade when the three of us vowed to always be best friends and eat the same after-school snack for the rest of our lives, or at least our school lives. That’s when the fun part happened.

  Billy and Brynn and I were sitting on the floor with Billy’s mom’s iPad, looking at old photos of Billy, Brynn, and me from grade school. There were pictures of us from birthday parties, school plays, and holidays. “Aww, we were so cute!” I said, pointing to a picture from fifth grade of us all dressed like hippies on Halloween.

  When Billy pulled up a picture of the three of us from Colonial Night in third grade, we all collapsed into a laughing heap. Billy was George Washington, I was Martha Washington, and Brynn was Betsy Ross. We looked so funny in our costumes. That was the night we became friends, when Brynn and I couldn’t stop laughing at Billy’s jokes about wig troubles, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. The Three Musketeers—that’s what Billy’s dad calls us.

  Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without my friends. Even though Brynn can have her moments, she’s been my best friend since kindergarten. She’s an only child, so she’s more like a sister I actually like than a friend. And Billy has kept me laughing since the day I met him.

  Like today, when he did his recap of what happened to Charlie Bonner in fifth-period math. I saw it when it happened, but it was even funnier when Billy put his spin on it. First of all, no one likes Charlie because he always makes fun of other people. But today he got back everything he’s ever dished out.

  Charlie hates our math teacher, Ms. Crawford, and, to be fair, with good reason. Ms. Crawford always calls on Charlie to come to the board to work out the problems no one else can figure out. So today, when she called on Charlie, he was prepared to get back at her. He had an egg in his shorts pocket and he told everyone before class he was going to crack it on Ms. Crawford’s head when she called him up to the board. I have to admit, I couldn’t wait to see him do it, but what happened was so much funnier. The egg broke in Charlie’s pocket when he was walking up to the board. There must have been a hole in his pocket, because egg was dripping down his leg as he stood in front of the class.

  “The yellow part looked like petrified pee, and I won’t say what the white part looked like,” said Billy to Brynn and me.

  Billy was pretending to do the problem on the board and shifting around and covering up his pants with his hands. It was a spot-on imitation of what Charlie looked like this afternoon. I laughed so hard, lemonade came out of my nose. Brynn had to run to the bathroom.

  When we finally stopped laughing, Brynn brought up one of our favorite topics: camp.

  “Fifty-one days till we leave!” she said.

  Every year, Brynn does the countdown to Camp Silver Shores, and she’s always the one who makes sure we have everything on the list neatly packed in our duffels.

  “I can’t wait to go,” I told Billy and Brynn. “Four amazing weeks with no parents or sisters to drive me crazy. My mom is making me nuts. My birthday party was a nightmare.”

  Brynn nodded like she agreed. “Total nightmare.”

  I cringed. It was one of those times when you don’t actually want anyone to agree with you. I love Brynn like a sister, but I don’t always like when she says whatever’s on her mind. Lately, she’s into this whole I-want-to-be-a-journalist-when-I-grow-up thing, and she says good journalists aren’t afraid to speak the truth. Which is fine if the person talking is on TV, and they don’t know you, but not always fine if they’re your best friend.

  Anyway, when Brynn said my party was a total n
ightmare, I ran my tongue over my teeth, which Billy says I do when I’m nervous. Billy looked at me and caught me doing it, and that’s when the thing happened that made the afternoon SUPER WEIRD.

  Billy smiled at me in a sweet way. “I thought you looked cute at your party,” he said, like he really did think I looked cute. Then, he stretched his leg across the carpet and touched my big toe with his. Our toes just kind of sat there for a minute, touching each other like they had minds of their own and they didn’t want to stop touching.

  IT WAS SO WEIRD!

  Our body parts have touched before, but somehow this time it felt different, like Billy was touching me on purpose. I looked at Brynn to see if she noticed, but she didn’t look like she thought anything seemed weird or different. She just kept going on about camp.

  Even if Brynn couldn’t feel the difference, I could.

  I looked at Billy to see if he could feel the difference too, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his mom’s iPad like he was trying hard to find one particular photo. Then, he curled his toe away from mine like he wasn’t even sure he knew it had been there in the first place.

  Billy was acting like nothing was any different. So I acted like nothing was any different. But to be honest, things felt a little different.

  9:35 P.M.

  Complete humiliation

  Can you go to jail for locking your younger sisters in the attic until you’re old enough to leave for college? I don’t care. I’m taking my chances. I hate them. They have zero respect for my privacy.

  Tonight, after I showered, I came into my room and locked the door. I read in a magazine that if you stand with your back arched, it makes your butt look bigger. I really want my butt to look bigger, so I dropped my towel, looked in the mirror, arched my back and stuck my butt out. It actually did look bigger. I touched it to see if it felt bigger, but it felt the same.

  Then I looked in the mirror at my front.

  The article I read also said scientific evidence suggests that stimulation of breasts makes them grow faster. The only boob I really want to grow is my left one. So while I was standing there naked with my back arched, I rubbed my left boob. I waited to see if anything happened, but it didn’t, so I rubbed it a little harder. The article didn’t give specifics on how long to do it, so I kept rubbing.