June

The fire extinguishers at our school are kept behind glass, like this:

I’m not sure why. It seems like if there’s an emergency, the last thing you want is a bunch of broken glass scattered everywhere.

You know that optical illusion where you’re not supposed to know whether it’s an image of two people talking, or a vase?

I figured out a third possibility: What if it’s two people biting a vase?

So my grandma Judy called this afternoon, and I picked up the phone. She asked to speak to my dad, and I told her that he wasn’t home, but that she could talk to my mom. And she said, “No, that’s fine. Just take a message: I’m coming to visit. A week from Friday. For three days.” And I said, “Oh! If you get here on Thursday, you can come to my middle-school graduation.” And she said, “Why on earth would I want to attend a middle-school graduation?”

Which, I had to admit, was actually a pretty good question.

Anyway, Sophie’s pretty excited about the news, because she’s Grandma Judy’s favorite. And my mom just keeps muttering under her breath, “It’s only three days, it’s only three days,” over and over and over again.

Taking a break from studying for my final exams—tomorrow I have tests in math and science. Reading through my science textbook, I realized how much it must suck to be a scientist today, because all the easy stuff’s already been discovered. Like, you know who was lucky? Sir Isaac Newton. Nowadays, scientists have to discover distant galaxies, or new elements, in order to become famous. But he was born at a time when you could become famous just for going, “Hey, you know what I discovered exists? Gravity. Gravity’s mine. From here on out, I get credit for figuring that out.”

Ugh. Today was my math exam. I forgot my pencil, so I had to quickly borrow one, and without thinking, I asked Oliver Sloane, who sits across from me. As soon as he handed it over, I remembered: Oliver’s a pencil chewer.

I don’t think I did well on the exam, because all I could think the whole time was, I am holding something that has been in Oliver Sloane’s mouth.

Almost done with exams—today was my English exam. I kind of wish I’d finished To Kill a Mockingbird before the test, because I had to guess on a few questions. Does anyone out there know who Boo Radley is? I guessed that that was the name of a ghost, but I don’t think that’s right.

I just have history left to go. I’ve made flash cards with information on all the presidents. Looking through them, I don’t know what’s weirder: that all of our Founding Fathers wore wigs, or that they all chose to wear the same wig. You’d think that at least one of them would’ve gone for a bright red one, or a beehive, or something.

Ugh. Today was my last exam, in history, and I nearly got in trouble for cheating on it. During the test, Doug Spivak leaned over to me and whispered, “Tad! I need the names of the three ships Columbus took to America! I know one of them is the Titanic, but what are the other two?” And I was whispering back that I couldn’t help him when Mr. Campbell came over, picked up my test, and said, “Tad? If you’re cheating on the test, I have to send you to the principal’s office.” And I said, “Mr. Campbell—if I were cheating, do you really think I’d cheat off of Doug Spivak?” He thought about it for a few seconds, and then said, “Good point,” and handed my test back.

Anyway. That was my last exam—assuming I passed all of them, I’m done with middle school! I’m free! Woo-hooooooooooo!

So today was my first day after completing middle school, and I was planning on celebrating by sleeping in and playing video games, but my mom woke me up this morning and said she needed my help in cleaning the house for Grandma Judy. So instead of enjoying my freedom, I wound up doing stupid stuff like scrubbing the bathroom sinks and helping my mom clean the refrigerator. We had to throw out some really gross stuff—some cheese with blue mold on it, a piece of lunch meat that had fallen in the back of the fridge and gotten crispy around the edges, and a giant bottle of ranch dressing that was almost completely full. When my mom saw it, she said, “I don’t even know why we bought that. Nobody in the family even likes ranch dressing.”

I didn’t say a word.

Today, Chuck’s family went to Wombat World, the amusement park, and Chuck was allowed to bring one friend, so I went along. It was a lot of fun, especially since I’m now tall enough to go on all the rides, even the biggest and scariest roller coasters. Although to me, the scariest ride wasn’t any of the giant roller coasters. It was the one shaped like a pirate ship that swings back and forth like a pendulum. Because after we were strapped in, right before the ride started, the ride operator said, “Spitting on this ride is strictly forbidden!” I don’t even think it had occurred to anyone on the ride to do that. But now that he’d mentioned it, I spent the whole rest of the ride panicking that some kid sitting across from me would decide to try it.

It was crazy stressful.

Got in trouble with my mom today. I used the downstairs guest bathroom and washed my hands with the decorative soaps she’d put out for Grandma Judy, which are shaped like butterflies and seashells. And she said, “These are only for guests!”

I dunno. If I were a guest in someone’s house and saw a bowl full of brand-new, untouched, never-been-used soaps, I’d kind of worry that no one in that house ever washed their hands.

Tonight was my middle-school graduation. The ceremony was OK. They had it outside, on the athletic field at the school. And they began by giving out a whole bunch of awards to the graduating class, for being the best at English and math and science and everything. To me, the weirdest award was the one they gave out for perfect attendance—I feel like that’s not really an achievement; all it means is that you never got sick. And to prove my point, the person who won it was Doug Spivak, who almost didn’t come up to the stage, because they announced his name as “Douglas Spivak,” and he forgot that Douglas was his full first name.

Our graduation speaker was the deputy mayor of our town, who told us that he wanted to talk to us about determination, and the power of positive thinking. And he talked for a little while about how, if you want something bad enough, you can make it happen through thinking about it positively. And just when it seemed like he was maybe going to wrap up, he said, “Now, let’s get to the main part of my speech—what do I mean by being positive? Let’s go through the word: P. What is P for?” And then he paused, and you could hear everyone in our class trying really hard not to laugh. And he said, “Persistence. P is for persistence. Let me talk a bit about persistence. . . .” And that’s how he kept going—O is for optimism, S is for strength, and so on. By the time he got to V, I could see that everyone was getting sort of antsy—even the teachers up onstage were yawning and looking at their watches. And I started to think about how much I wanted the ceremony to be over, and I think everyone else did, too. And then, all of a sudden, a thunderstorm rolled in, and the whole ceremony got rained out. We all ran inside to the gym, and Dr. Evans announced that she would just send everyone their diplomas in the mail.

Maybe it was a coincidence, but I like to think that the rainstorm came about because of the power of everyone’s positive thinking.

Anyway, I’m now a middle-school graduate. I asked my dad if my eighth-grade diploma qualifies me to do anything. He shrugged and said, “Go to ninth grade, I guess.”

So Grandma Judy arrived today. My dad and Sophie picked her up at the airport. She walked through the front door, looked around, and said to my mom, “I’m glad you didn’t clean up for me. I’d hate to think I was a bother.” Then she turned to me and said, “I didn’t realize that’s how boys were allowed to wear their hair these days.” And then she went upstairs, so Sophie could help her unpack, and she could show her all the presents she’d brought for her. And I heard my mom mutter something under her breath about “it’s just forty-eight hours, you can make it.”

Ugh. Today was awful. Grandma Judy announced that she was going to take me and Sophie out “for a day of fun with my grandchildren.” But since Sophie’s her favorite, that pretty much just meant that we spent the day doing stuff that Sophie and Grandma Judy enjoy. So we went to Dress Barn, Michaels arts-and-crafts store, the botanical gardens, and a store that sells doll furniture. The store that sells doll furniture was actually sort of fun, until Grandma Judy told me to stop pretending that I was a giant mutant lizard menacing a tiny city.

But that wasn’t even the worst part of the day. The worst part was during dinner, when Grandma Judy announced, “So I actually came here to tell you all something. I have news. You remember that gentleman friend of mine, William? You all met him last summer?” And I started to ask, “Did he die?” when she said, “We’re getting married! Wait—did you just ask if he died?” And I said, “No.”

And then my dad said, “Mom—why do you have to get married? Can’t you just be boyfriend and girlfriend?” And Grandma Judy said, “And live in sin?” And my dad said, “Dad wouldn’t have wanted this.” And she said, “Your father would understand. He would want me to be happy!” And my dad said, “No, he wouldn’t!” And then neither of them said anything, and my mom said, “I’ll go get our dessert!” and we all ate dessert so quietly that you could hear our forks scraping on our plates. It got so uncomfortable that I finally said twenty-one words I never in a million years thought I’d say: “I don’t want the rest of my cake. I think I’m going to go help Sophie arrange her new doll furniture.”

So today was Grandma Judy’s last day staying with us. By the time Sophie and I got up this morning, I guess she and my dad had talked some more, because he told us that we’re going to Grandma Judy’s wedding in August. And my mom said, “And your father is very happy about that.” And then there was a pause, and she turned to my dad and said, “Isn’t that right, honey?” And my dad said, “Sure.”

And then Grandma Judy said that she was glad to hear it, because she was really looking forward to having my dad walk her down the aisle, and Sophie being her flower girl. And then she turned to my mom and me and said, “And of course, you’re invited, too.” And my mom said, “Of course! Your wedding? In August? In Florida? I couldn’t imagine a more fun time!”

If it weren’t already the name of a country, Finland would be a good name for a fish-themed amusement park.

So my parents are making me get a summer job again this summer, but I think I waited too long to start looking, because no one is hiring. I went down to the mall today and walked from store to store, but everyone kept telling me that they weren’t even taking applications. By the thirtieth store, I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going—I’d just walk in, look for a salesperson, and ask, “Are you hiring?” Which got kind of awkward at one store, where the lady behind the counter stared at me and said, “Do you really think this is the place for you?” And then I realized I was in a lingerie store.

Which, it turns out, wasn’t hiring.

My mom’s car is getting repaired, so I went with my dad tonight to pick her up at the nursing home where she works. Here’s a fun thing I learned while I was there: even if an old lady is wearing a T-shirt that says “Ask Me About My Grandchildren,” you shouldn’t ask her about her grandchildren, because she’ll get sort of weirded out and alarmed by it and call security.

Woo-hoo! Today I talked to Chuck, who said he found out that they’re hiring caddies down at the golf course—so I called, and they offered to hire me! I have a summer job! There’s a training session tomorrow, and then we can start caddying this weekend!

I’m very excited, even though my parents seem a little worried. My mom said, “Golf clubs are sort of heavy . . . ,” and my dad said, “And golf courses are really big. . . .” But I figure that I don’t have any problem carrying my backpack to and from school, and I like to walk around, so how bad could it be?

So yeah, I’m not going to be a caddy this summer. And neither is Chuck. The training session ended badly. Did you know that the reason golf clubs are called woods and irons is because they’re made out of wood and iron? I would type more about it, but I’m kind of having trouble holding up my armssljskjfljksaedlkjdf sf

Today was really hot out, and I came up with a pretty good idea for a way to make money: I decided to open a lemonade stand. The only problem is, we didn’t have any lemons in the house. You know how people say, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade”? They never mention what to do when life doesn’t give you lemons. I tried making orangeade, with orange juice, water, and sugar, but it just tasted weird and wrong. And then I saw that we had some milk and some chocolate syrup, so I opened a chocolate-milk stand. But I realized pretty quickly that nobody really wants to buy chocolate milk that’s been sitting out in the sun for a while—and changing the name to “hot chocolate” seemed like it might help, but it turns out, nobody wants hot chocolate in the middle of June. After all that, I only wound up making $3 from one of our neighbors, who pretended to sip from the cup and said, “I’m going to take this back inside and finish it later.”

So tonight, my mom said that she might have a job opportunity for me. She said, “You know Mrs. Wagner? From down the street?” And I said, “Yeah . . .” And my mom said, “She needs a babysitter this Saturday night.” And I said, “Isn’t she a bit old to have a babysitter?” And my mom said, “You know what I mean. She needs someone to watch Kyle.” Kyle’s her son, who’s eight. From the sound of things, she just needs someone to give him dinner, hang out with him for an hour or so, and then make sure he goes to bed, and wait for Mrs. Wagner and her husband to come home. So I said, “Sure.” And my mom said, “You know, I made a lot of money babysitting when I was your age. If you do a good job at the Wagners’, tell them to recommend you to their friends. Maybe this’ll be how you earn money this summer!” And I said, “So I can get paid to watch other kids?” And my mom said, “Sure! It’s a valuable service!” And I said, “Can I get paid every time you make me hang out with Sophie?” And she said, “Absolutely not.”

It was worth a try.

The more I think about it, the more excited I am about the idea of making money by babysitting. I need to make a good impression so the Wagners recommend me to all of their friends, so I’ve been thinking about ways to entertain Kyle. I’m going to bring over some decks of cards, and a board game, and maybe a jigsaw puzzle, so we’ll have plenty of options to have fun.

9:44 p.m.

So I’m at the Wagners’ house right now. (I’m on Mr. Wagner’s computer, in his office—he said I could use it if I wanted to, so long as I didn’t click on his browser history or open any files.)

Tonight went OK: I showed up at seven thirty with all the stuff to entertain Kyle, and Mrs. Wagner said, “I’m glad you brought a five-hundred-piece puzzle, but you know he’s going to go to bed in an hour and a half, right?”

Anyway, it turned out Kyle didn’t want to play board games or anything—he just wanted to watch TV. So we hung out and we watched some Scooby-Doo, and then it was his bedtime, so he brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas and went to bed.

(Speaking of Scooby-Doo: How is it that, in every episode, Fred and Daphne and Velma figure out that weird, unexplained phenomena are being caused by men wearing rubber masks, but none of them have ever thought to check if their talking, crime-solving Great Dane is just a guy in a dog suit?)

So, now I’m just hanging out, waiting for the Wagners to come home. They even said I could eat a Popsicle from the freezer! This is the easiest money I’ve ever made!

10:04 p.m.

If anyone out there knows how to get a grape Popsicle stain out of a white couch, can you email me right away?

11:44 p.m.

I don’t even want to get into it, but let’s just say: I have managed to wind up in debt as a result of babysitting. I need to make quite a bit of money now. And I will not be able to make it back by babysitting for the Wagners.