Can You Say Catastrophe Part 6

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 Embarra.s.sment.

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 b.o.o.bs 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 c.o.kes. 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 embarra.s.sing moment of my entire life happened. Here's a recap:

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 embarra.s.sment. I wanted to die.

I STILL WANT TO DIE.

HouSton, we have a problem..

a"Apollo 13.

Still Sat.u.r.day, 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 h.e.l.l, 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 Sh.o.r.es 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 Sh.o.r.es?

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.

a"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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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.