Can You Say Catastrophe? Read online

  I tried to apologize, but Billy didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. And now we’re not talking. Again.

  I’m upset that Billy and I aren’t talking, but I don’t know why. Things are no different now than before we started talking today anyway.

  Thursday, May 23

  Still depressed

  It’s the next-to-last day of school. All we did in school was eat doughnuts and sign yearbooks. I should be happy, but I’m not.

  Friday, May 24

  Last day of school

  Last bell just rang

  Last student to leave

  (i.e., me)

  Question: What’s worse than the school year?

  Answer: Summer break.

  But only if your name is April Sinclair and you have the summer ahead of you that I have. I’ve never been so unexcited about school ending in my entire life.

  One more question: Where’s the nearest supply closet? I’d like to hide in it until next fall.

  Tuesday, June 11

  I think

  I’m not sure

  I don’t know

  I don’t care

  I haven’t written anything for a long time, because I haven’t had anything good to write about. I’ve been forced to spend large amounts of time with people (my sisters) I have absolutely no desire to spend time with.

  I haven’t seen Matt. For all I know he moved back to California.

  Billy hasn’t spoken to me since our fight, and I still don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s because he’s mad I told Brynn or confused about how he felt when he kissed me or upset he kissed me in the first place.

  I completely don’t get what’s going on. All I know is that I miss talking to Billy, partly because I just miss Billy, but also because it means that the only other people I talk to who are anywhere near my age are May and June, who I don’t like talking to, and Brynn, who only talks about a camp I’m not going to.

  June l4, 9:45 P.M.

  Staring at an empty duffle

  June 14 was supposed to be the day when I would pack my duffle bag, because tomorrow is June 15, the day I was supposed to leave for camp.

  It’s making me sick that I’m not going. My stomach is upset and my head aches and my feet hurt. I feel like I’m getting one of those diseases people get when their life is too sad for them to lead a healthy existence.

  I hate my parents for making me stay home. I’m too young to be filled with this kind of hatred.

  And I know that as depressed as I am now, it won’t compare to how depressed I’ll be tomorrow morning at 6:45 A.M. when my friends are on their way to Camp Silver Shores and I’m stuck at home.

  I’m not a happy camper.

  Saturday, June 15, 7:30 A.M.

  Went to the bus to say good-bye

  Back in bed

  Tears on my pillow

  I set my alarm for 6:30 so I could go to Faraway Middle School and say goodbye to my friends before they got on the bus. But I should have stayed in bed.

  When Brynn saw me, she gave me a big hug and said she was going to miss me sooooo much and that camp wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without me, but I don’t think she meant it because she was hugging everybody and screaming about how much fun camp would be.

  I saw Billy too. Since he’s leaving for a while, I thought he might say something like, April, I’m sorry things got so messed up between us. I really like you and I’m glad I kissed you. Camp won’t be the same without you, and don’t worry, I’ll write.

  But he didn’t say anything like that. He didn’t say anything at all. Not even good-bye. It was really weird. When I told him, “Bye and have fun,” he just looked at me like he was going to say something, but he didn’t.

  Then he and Brynn got on the bus with twenty-eight other screaming kids.

  I watched as thirty screaming kids in Camp Silver Shores T-shirts drove off. But there should have been thirty-one kids on that bus.

  Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other, “Does this taste funny to you?”

  Sunday, June 16, 5:30 P.M.

  Since I woke up this morning, I’ve watched seven episodes of Real Housewives of New Jersey and eaten an entire shoebox of Life cereal. Why a shoebox? Because all the cereal in our house ends up in shoeboxes under May’s bed where she keeps it in case she gets hungry in the middle of the night.

  While my friends are eating roasted marshmallows and singing songs around a fire, I’m stuck eating cereal out of a shoebox and watching a bunch of ladies scream at each other on TV.

  5:45 P.M.

  Mom just came into my room to check on me. When she did, I made the saddest face I could possibly make. I thought there was a chance she would say something about how she’s already starting to realize she and Dad made a big mistake. But all she said was that I shouldn’t worry, that this summer will be good for me.

  I fail to see how.

  Monday, June 17, 6:50 A.M.

  It’s 6:50 in the morning and I’m listening to my dad yelling, “Paper, Gilligan. Paper!”

  My dad been has been standing in our front yard in his robe and slippers yelling for Gilligan to get the newspaper for at least 20 minutes. He’s determined to train Gilligan to fetch the paper. Gilligan seems determined not to learn. In the amount of time my dad has been yelling, he could have gotten the paper himself and read the thing front to back.

  And Dad doesn’t just yell like a normal person yelling to a dog. He yells in a wake-upthe-whole-neighborhood kind of way. It’s completely embarrassing.

  It’s also exhausting. I just walked outside and told Dad that as a result of being awakened so early, I will NOT be able to perform my job duties today, which he and Mom have defined as making lunch for my sisters and keeping them entertained this afternoon. Dad replied with some stupid comment about the early bird getting the worm.

  I didn’t see what the early bird had to do with any of this, but I asked Dad if while the early bird was out getting the worm, he could get the paper too.

  I thought that was pretty funny. But Dad didn’t see the humor. He said I should try to be more “respectful.” I told Dad I should be at camp where my “lack of respect” wouldn’t bother him.

  Dad didn’t think that was funny either.

  Tuesday, June 18

  I have nothing to write about.

  Here’s what I will be doing today, which also happens to be what I did yesterday: making lunch for my sisters and keeping them entertained. In fact, I will be doing this every day this week, so if I write nothing else, it’s because I already know I will have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT.

  Thursday, June 20

  Hallelujah! Tomorrow I will have something to write about. Mom said I can take May and June to the pool to swim.

  Friday, June 21, 3:50 P.M.

  The ultimate Embarrassment

  The kind you never recover from

  Unfortunately, today I have something to write about. This afternoon I took May and June to the pool, which I was looking forward to, but what happened there was so humiliating, I’m certain beyond a reasonable doubt that I’ll never be the same again.

  It pains me to write about it, but here goes.

  After lunch, May and June and I walked to the pool. I was really excited. I had on my new bikini that I had to beg Mom to buy for me. It has removable pads, so I took out the right pad, which made my boobs look the same size. I thought I actually looked good.

  When we got to the pool, I swam with May and June for a while. We had fun. They were really good and listened to everything I told them. When we were done swimming, I took them to the snack bar and we all got frozen candy bars and Cokes. Everything was going great. Then Matt Parker came over to the snack bar.

  I didn’t even know he was at the pool. With the exception of the one time in the hallway at school, I haven’t seen him since we kissed. It’s like he disappeared and suddenly reappeared. That’s when the most embarrassing moment of my entire life happened. Here’s a r
ecap:

  Matt: (Looking totally hot) Hey April, what’s up?

  Me: (Trying to look and sound cool) Not much.

  Matt: (Smiling) I like your bikini.

  Me: (Smiling and about to say something cool and/or funny and/or clever, but didn’t have a chance to because my crazy sister said something first.)

  June: It’s a string bikini. That’s what April calls it.

  Matt: (Still smiling) I see that.

  June: (Putting her hands on her hips.) It’s got strings here.

  June: And there’s another string down there.

  The next thing I knew, June was pointing to my crotch. I looked down. The end of my tampon string was hanging out, and Matt Parker was standing there staring at it. I swatted June away, but it was too late. Matt started laughing hysterically and looked away. Then, before I could even finish grabbing my towel to wrap around my waist, he said something about having to go, and he was out of sight.

  I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. I wanted to die.

  I STILL WANT TO DIE.

  HouSton, we have a problem.

  —Apollo 13

  Still Saturday, June 22

  9:44 P.M.

  I have a large problem, and it’s not that Matt Parker knows I’m having my period.

  When I went to the mailbox this afternoon to get the mail, I came to the horrible realization that Billy and Brynn have been at camp for a week and I haven’t gotten a letter from either one of them. I’ve been spending so much time in babysitting hell, I haven’t had time to think about my friends, but now I’m fully focused and I have some questions. First up on my list: Why haven’t I heard from Brynn?

  Given everything that’s happened with Billy, I didn’t expect to get a letter from him, but no mail from Brynn?! She’s been at camp for a whole week, and I don’t think it’s too much to expect a letter, one stupid letter, from my best friend. What’s going on at Camp Silver Shores that’s making Brynn Stephens too busy to write to her best friend?

  I don’t want to think about why Brynn hasn’t written, but what I’m starting to think is this: Brynn + Billy together at camp without me = not a good thing.

  People get really close at camp. They’re already close, but I know they’re going to get even closer just like the three of us do every summer. Without me there, the two of them will be like twins who tell each other everything.

  Billy will tell Brynn that he’s mad at me for telling her he kissed me. Brynn, who said, “Any girl would want Billy for a boyfriend,” which I can’t help but think includes her, will tell him that I kissed Matt, and then she will snag Billy for herself. She’s the one who said it would be so much fun to have a boyfriend at camp. Even though I’m not sure I want Billy for a boyfriend, I know I don’t want Brynn to have him.

  Sunday, June 23, 2:15 P.M.

  At my desk

  If Brynn isn’t writing to me, I’m going to write to her, and then she’ll have to write back.

  2:55 P.M.

  I just wrote to Brynn. The only problem is that today is Sunday, and there are only five days before we leave on our family RV pilgrimage to Florida on Friday.

  I don’t want to go to Florida with no letter in hand. Actually, I don’t want to go to Florida at all. But that’s a different story.

  I’m going to put my trust in the only place I can think to put it: the United States Postal Service.

  Monday, June 24, 4:45 P.M.

  No mail from Brynn.

  Tuesday, June 25, 4:53 P.M.

  Where’s my letter postmarked from Camp Silver Shores?

  Wednesday, June 26, 4:59 P.M.

  Standing outside by the mailbox

  The postman just delivered our mail and there was NOTHING for me. Was it too much to ask that he deliver one little envelope with my name on it?

  I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but right now, the postman is not on my top-ten list.

  Thursday, June 27, 5:18 P.M.

  Good news: the mail arrived. Bad news: There was none for me.

  No letter from Brynn, and I’m leaving in the morning to go to Florida for two weeks. How am I supposed to enjoy my vacation when I have no idea what my friends are doing behind my back? How do I even know they’re still my friends?

  5:32 P.M.

  My life continues to spiral downhill. Dad just drove into our driveway in an old, dilapidated camper. He calls it an RV. I’m calling it the Clunker.

  I can’t believe he actually thinks this vehicle will make it to Florida and back.

  5:44 P.M.

  I don’t think Dad thinks this vehicle will make it to Florida and back. I just heard him tell Mom it doesn’t look anything like the picture on the Internet.

  7:42 P.M.

  Mom just told me to start packing.

  Dad said we’re leaving at 4 A.M. When I asked him why we have to leave at 4 in the morning, he said, “To get a jump on the day.”

  I asked why we would want to get a jump on the day.

  He said he shouldn’t have to answer that question.

  Translation: THERE IS NO ANSWER!

  Remember. As far as anyone knows, we’re a nice normal family.

  —Homer Simpson

  Friday, June 28, 4:07 A.M.

  That’s right, A.M.!

  I fail to see the normalcy in anything my family does. It’s 4:07 A.M. and we’re in the Clunker, hurtling toward Florida. Three cities. Fourteen days. Countless amusement parks.

  I am not amused.

  8:30 A.M.

  Sitting at the table in a moving vehicle

  Playing Go Fish with young children

  I’m pretty sure what I’ve endured for the last four and a half hours qualifies as kidnapping. Being forced into a vehicle against my will. Not allowed to exit. Made to play games well below my intellectual and emotional level. Only given doughnuts as nourishment.

  If the United States Government really wanted to punish terrorists, they’d round them up and make them come on this vacation with us. Not only would they have to deal with the intolerable conditions mentioned above, they’d also have to endure Dad’s terrible driving. He says he’s just getting the feel of the thing. I say we’re one turn away from toppling over. Every time Dad goes left or right, all the cards go flying. Dad keeps making the same joke about playing fifty-two-card pickup. May and June think it’s hilarious. I don’t see the humor in any of this.

  We don’t even get to stop and use the bathroom. WHY? Because the Clunker has its own bathroom! Dad says we’re only stopping for gas. He wants to make it to St Augustine by noon. And once we get there, guess what we’re doing. Parking the Clunker on a campsite for clunkers and sleeping in it.

  We’re stopping for gas soon. I’m thinking of making a run for it.

  9:16 A.M.

  We just stopped for gas. I thought about running, but there was nowhere to go. As far as the eye could see, there were only trees and cows.

  9:43 A.M.

  I’m bored.

  I’m sick of sitting at a table with my sisters, eating doughnuts, and playing Go Fish. I’m going to go lie down in the bedroom, which is just a raised platform with a thin mattress on top and a curtain around it. I’m going to try to go to sleep and maybe when I wake up, I’ll find out this whole thing was just a nightmare.

  10:48 A.M.

  I’m awake. I slept one for one lousy hour. But now, on top of being bored and miserable, I’m also nauseous. I asked Dad if we could stop so I could throw up, but he said we have a toilet on board that will work just fine.

  10:54 A.M.

  I forgot to mention that I’m also hot. Dad said there must be a problem with the air conditioning. For once, I agree with my father.

  1:46 P.M.

  We’re now at the campground where we’re parking the Clunker and sleeping for the next three nights while we’re in St. Augustine, Florida. Dad said, “We’ve arrived at Florida’s finest.” June seemed to like those words because she’s been repeating them nonstop ever since he said
them. She said it sounds like a tongue twister and she wanted to see how many times she could say, “We’ve arrived at Florida’s finest.” May said they should make it a challenge to see who could say it more times, so they’ve been continuously repeating what Dad said ever since we got here. Mom just looked at me and said I should join in the fun.

  I told Mom I’d be happy to do that if there was anything here that looked like fun.

  She replied that I need to work on my attitude.

  4:25 P.M.

  A crappy situation

  I wish there was a ladylike way to say what I’m about to say, but there’s not. So here goes: Dad spent the afternoon getting rid of the pee and poop in our RV.

  It sounds just as gross as it is. First Dad had to find the “disposal site” where he could put our “waste products.” I told May and June that was just a fancy name for a hole in the ground where you put your crap. June kept asking Dad if he’d found the hole in the ground for the crap. Dad got mad at me for teaching June the word crap. He also got sweaty because it took him a long time to find the hole and it was really hot outside.

  I tried to suggest to Dad that he should come inside the RV and cool down. But then I reminded him that our air conditioner wasn’t working so that wasn’t really an option. Dad didn’t seem to appreciate that reminder. He said he could only deal with one RV issue at a time.

  Anyway, once Dad found the hole, he put on these thick rubber gloves. They made him look like an unlicensed dentist or a child molester, and I told him so, but he said he didn’t want to hear another word from me. Then he started mumbling some weird stuff about needing to find the sewer hose compartment. I thought I was hearing things.

  Who goes on vacation looking for a sewer hose compartment?

  Once Dad found the compartment, he took a hose out of our camper and stuck it in the hole in the ground. Then he opened up some sort of flap and all the pee and poop from our camper started going through the hose and into the hole. Dad stood there holding the hose in his gloved hands saying how he had to do this until it fully drained.