NaNoWriMo

10:21am: Hm, journalling this thing isn't working as well as I had hoped; I am doing the rest in Appleworks.

4:50am: Oh god, I am just beside myself with shock, and relief at the same time. I can't believe the coincidences over the last few days, and how close a call Dave had. A few days ago I saw on the news the exact same car that Dave drives; a maroon Capri wrapped around a pole in a town near Worcester. The driver was killed and the car was all flattened on one side. I was so horrified thinking, "what if that had been Dave's car?" Well last night I got a phone call from him, he crashed his car against a telephone pole and totalled it - he was not really injured except for a cut to his brow, he said, but Jon was ion the car with him and he was taken away by ambulance. He is all right now, but possibly has a concussion. Dave was so sad when he told me about the EMT carrying Jon out like a limp child. My god, it was such a close call I don't feel like I can control my emotions - so many things are going through my head. Why was he out with Jon? Did they talk about me? I can't help but wonder if maybe he did it deliberately, if unconsciously. I know that sounds crazy but what if he was angry at Jon for having hurt me, or angry at him for something he might have said about me? I don't even know what is going on with Dave, he has never told me if he likes me even but I get the impression he does especially to hear Joey talk about him. Is it so self-centered of me to think so, I don't know. I feel so nervous though, that they could have been hurt much worse or killed like that guy just a few days ago in the same car and same situation. I think Dave and Jon might have been drinking - why else would they have been together? - but I can't get any straight answers. I think Dave is afraid he might be arrested, and frankly I am surprised he wasn't. The cops around here don't have much to do and they can't stand kids driving, especially kids with 4 outstanding speeding tickets already.

I immediately called Carrie and told her, and she was first kind of astonished, but then she laughed. She said she wanted to talk to Dave again and tell him, "drive him off a bridge this time!" She didn't ask me how I knew so quickly; I know she is normally the one with the gossip way before me and it is funny that she didn't say, "how did you know? Did Dave call you? Why?" I also wish I could tell her how much I have cried tonight, how scared I am for what a close call that was, and how sad I am that his car is totally gone - I met him in that car, after all. Of course Carrie thinks I am overreacting but then she doesn't really know. Paige was appropriately outraged on my behalf and only she dared to ask the question the lurked behind my fears for the Sutton boys' lives: how will David ever take me out on a date I guess will really never happen now?

5:10am: Sometimes it is easier to talk about Carrie since she has so much more to live for than I do. I don't know why someone from such a trash family gets blessed with such better looks than I got. I'm in 4-H and in the early spring we had a fashion show and Carrie was pissed because she was not chosen to be a model - she had only joined that year and I was an old timer. The 4H biddies don't care who is pretty or not, the show is just for fun and to raise a little money for them to add nice things to their gardens. I got a perm the day of the show, and I was all tricked out with my big fro and the new TJ Maxx duds, I looked in the full length mirror in the basement of the town hall and I thought I looked pretty damn hot. Carrie thought so too, she stood there with her mouth just gaping. Paige is still in 4H though she lives far away now and she was such a clumsy ass walking down that aisle to the stage! She was modeling the stupidest outfit - she looked like Pop 'N Fresh in her sailor collar - and she just kind of clomped onto the stage with her head down. I was coooooool. She is not growing up and improving like I am. Today when Mark tried to grab my arm in science class as he walked by, I got up and slugged him, right there in front of everyone. The class laughed, and I don't think it was at me this time. Then Mark bleated from his seat, "Joy! I am nothing without you!" some of the boys laughed with him at my expense but then this big kid named Tom said, "you're nothing PERIOD" and he got a much bigger laugh. Tom is a really nice kid. I think he might have a crush on me, now that I look better. I think I lost like 2 pounds just over the weekend from using Fibre Trim, and my face looks a little thinner. By Summer I think I can be thin finally, and then at least have a chance at a boyfriend; Tom is not really my type. He is kind of a geek and he looks like a grown man. He has a beard and everything, in 8th grade!! I want ao gorgeous boyfriend like Carrie has; she is dating Jon Sutton and he is easily the most popular boy - if not then he is at least the top 2. He is so gorgeous, and he is just crazy about Carrie (and she doesn't even like him that much). Yesterday while she was talking to him in the hall I went up to her and she was talking to me right in front of him and he SMILED at me. Finally, my friendship with Carrie is paying off as I thought it might. It seems a shame that I would have a popular friend (even if she is a grade below) yet be such a loser. She was wearing a purple dress I had in 5th grade - she is so tiny and cute it fit her but more importantly she just looks good in anything, she can add a sweater off her shoulder and make even a 5th grader's lame Bradlees dress look cute. I can't even go into the lunchroom. As soon as we could, Steph and I went back to the bathrooms, but we chose a different one. The principal sent a woman teacher in to loom for us a few times, and sometimes we still get caught, but sometimes we are left alone. I wouldn't get english homework done ever if it weren't for our lunchtime "study halls". Steph counts on them. My english teacher is kind of grumpy but she loves me. I win the vocab Bingo every single time, and it makes the other kids mad. She loves the crap I write too. The other day after class as I walked by her she handed me back a paper and tried to catch my eye with a smile, bending down to my downcast gaze
"what are things like in your world?"
I was caught off guard, and answered her confusedly, "what?"
"I know you go into your own place, and I imagine things are much nicer there"

She is so right about me, and I can't believe that she could notice - I have thought about telling her about the Problem Boys, but I always chicken out. I also thought about telling the school nurse, since I am in there so often with my stomach aches. Most of the teachers think I am just trying to get out of gym class. Gym class does have Doug Ryan, and I used to have a crush on him. I sort of got over it, but he is still cute. At the beginning of the year my grandfather was driving me to school (he does when it rains, though the school is across the street) and he pointed out this kid who was walking and said that was his friend Barbara's grandson. He said the kid's name is Ernie Turbett. I sort of shrugged but all year I keep thinking about Ernie despite myself. He is kind of a bad boy, kept back and hangs out with some really bad kids like Steve who last year poured soap in the punch and ruined the 8th grade dance. He was kept back too. I keep looking at Ernie though and despite myself I think I have a crush on him. I guess he is kind of cute, and he has feathered hair. I tell Steph but she winces; she likes Prince, and no boys at our school will ever get her attention.

3:55am: what is was like, part 1
[this is the beginning; use "next day" in the left hand menu to continue. Calendar.]


My name is Joy, I am 13.

Every morning I fight with my brother to get to use the bathroom, even though he has to be at high school 40 minutes before I have to be at junior high. He stands in there so long applying beige zit cream and brushing his hair with a vented brush that I get a late start almost every day. The only plus is that when he leaves before me I can grab one of sweaters or shirts to wear, and it rounds out my wardrobe. My clothes are such rubbish. Morning is so horrible both for the bathroom fight, but also that I lie in bed pushing the SNOOZE button through several cycles thinking about what the fuck I will wear. I didn't care too much before this year about what I wore - or at least, I did a good job at convincing myself and others that I didn't care - but now I do. My parents are only now starting to have any money at all since my mom is now a full nurse (versus a LPN) and my dad has finally been taken back to the police force after being laid off, or kicked off for 7 years. I still never have any fucking clothes. I own like 2 pairs of pants, as many pairs of underwear and maybe 3 shirts. I dress like such a dork, I look poor and that wouldn't be such a problem if everyone else in town wasn't so incredibly rich.

When I can steal a shirt from my brother I can disappear into the oversized top, and get more wearings out of my stirrup leggings. I feel good when my thighs are covered, I feel small and cute in the big clothes, instead of lumbering and wide (my brother constantly reminds me that I am a fat blimp; he calls me fatty, pork face, and when he is really mad, fat cunt. I weigh 104 pounds, and I must get below 90 this year before I grow any more). Yesterday as I got up to sharpen my pencil in english class, Michael Green said to me, "your shirt's too big". I have no savoire faire (as my Nana calls it, I know what she means) so I just hissed and stomped back to my desk, before lamely saying, after the moment had passed, "your head's too big". Well, it got a snicker or two. But I am shy and heinously unpopular. I am probably the lowest girl on the totem pole since my best friend moved to a private school this year. I was - still am! - so mad about it because she gets to start new somewhere else, she has even cut and permed her hair and everything. I am stuck here, in the mess that we made. We deliberately reveled in our extreme geekdom, since we had no other choice. Over the last 2 years, since we became friends we have instigated a lot of mayhem, mostly at our own expense. In 6th grade recess we would walk stiffly, bumping into each other and shouting "SQUAWK!!" - that was our penguin walk. Despite what everyone thought, we did not get that idea from the new England Aquarium commercial with the fey kid saying, "I can walk like a penguin!" in a singsong voice but because Paige sometimes went to the same church as me and as people slowly walked out, their side to side steps made them lightly bump each other (and us) and we thought that was a riot. Just whatever people did but didn't talk about or point out we thought was funny. We deliberately wore different socks, hiked up our pants and waited for comment. We loved being able to say, "I go by THICKNESS!". We thought we were so clever, exchanging chewed gum in front of people but little did I know I was digging a grave for myself. Now Paige is gone, starting fresh in a new school where she gets to wear a formaldehyde uniform and therefore no late mornings, hitting SNOOZE and worrying about how to shuffle 7 items of clothing. And I am a sitting duck, the geekiest girl in the grade, now truly friendless and with a shitty legacy I now somewhat regretted. It wasn't worth it.

The worst thing? Ok I have never spoken of it, I can't even write in my diary about it but there are these boys, I think the ringleader is the beetle-browed Marty Delano but when he is not there, the giant Derek Marco steps into the leaders position, they torment me every day. God, I think I could kill them all. I bring my brother's Exact-o set to school in my purse, and I fantasize about sticking Mark Cambria in his smelly, grubby hand as he lays it on my desk - leaning in to tell me the disgusting things he "wants to do" to me. One day I will pillar his hand to the desk with the pointy blade. I know that hand will next grab my face if I don't look up at him, and if there are enough other boys egging him on, he will touch me, laughing as I swat his hand away and fight back tears. Marty is the worst though, he grabs at me, sure but he always chants, "I love you" and writes filthy, disgusting mocking "love letters" to me. The joke is that of course I am so repellant that no boy could love me, even these lowlife special Edders. Every time Marty says "I loooove you" I feel he is really saying, "I hate you". I don't even think I can feel love, he has ruined the word for me and more than anything else, I hate him for that.

What I can't understand is how Marty has girl friends; not girlfriends, but friends who are girls. Why does he just hate me so much? He is a squat little loser, maybe he is every girls "friend" and maybe he takes it out on me since I am the least popular girl. Rhonda Hooper is his friend, they chat together all day, she is kind of tomboyish with her tough girl walk but she wears a lot of makeup. I came into the study hall where they were sitting close together, thick as thieves, and he immediately began harassing me. Rhonda stood up for me, thank god, telling him to knock it off - but then why is she still friends with him?

I talk to Paige often on the phone, and I still baby sit her baby sister, but I don't tell her about The Problem. I don't tell anyone! For a while I felt as though I was going so inside myself because of them and because of my problems at home but after Christmas I just burst out. I am still afraid of them, I am still a loser with zero personality but one day I just took some Avon from my mother and started going to school with makeup on. Then I nagged my mother until she took me to Bradlees and got me a few more clothing pieces. I re-pierced my ears. The gym teacher, Ms. Flarety took me aside and said, "I see you're wearing makeup now! You look really nice, has something changed?" I shook my head. She asked, "is there a boy in your life?" Again, no. Maybe though there was a boy, the Problem Boys, making me try to break out of my shell. It is my fault they pick on me, because I am so ugly and pathetic. I have to try and be less so, or suffer this all my life; I can't do that. I'll kill myself first.

There is a new girl in school, I see her in the morning as we wait for the classrooms to open. She is so tiny! One day Amanda said to me, "I feel so bad for Stephanie, she doesn't know anyone here". I went over to her the next day, and every day before school we would talk. By Halloween we knew each other well enough to trick or treat together though we were too old. We never, ever went to the lunchroom. We sat in the bathroom during lunch, every single day. Steph saved her lunch money and by Spring she could afford a Cabbage patch kid. She was so proud of that Cabbage Patch kid, that she had bought by being hungry and pathetic with me in the bathroom every day. She was the only person shyer than me, when someone came into the bathroom she would really just shrink into herself. This one girl Ally (whose dad used to be my family's therapist) really mocked us, and made Stephanie cry one day. I want to beat her so badly, I want to just smash her ugly-ass face against the bathroom sink. I know I can, I have been fighting my brother off all of my life.

Anyway. This year is just so awkward, with the bathroom-lunches, the Problem Boys and my neighbor Carrie is in the grade below me, so this year we are in the same school. She is the opposite of me. She is teeny and cute with long hair and little bird ankles. My legs are like squashed carrots; fat upper thighs that taper down with no other shape. Her thighs are like 2 cylinders that almost but don't quite touch. She weighs 88 pounds, that's why. She is so popular it is hard to believe we are best friends. it is hard to believe we hang out together almost every day. She has been out with every boy in her grade, and a few in my own grade. She always has a boyfriend. The boyfriends, always popular boys, look so uncomfortable when I come along to talk to her. I know they don't want to be seen with my lumpen, freckly face and I stand several inches over Carrie (though I too am still short), making me look even bigger and more awkward.

One day a teacher caught Steph and I in the bathroom and figured out that we sat on the floor in there every day. She forced us to go to the lunchroom. My god, the panic as I walk into that room! It reminds me of walking on stage when I was in the 6th grade play. There was just nowhere to sit, so we sat with some girls who were livid that we took spaces their friends could have taken. "I don't want to look at your UGLY face!" she said to me, as she sat across me. I thought this unfair since though she was popular and rich, she was fatter and I have to say, much uglier than me. She had fine white hair all over her face, and her skin was kind of bad. And she was calling me ugly. I know it is only who your parents are and what clothes you wear that make you popular. But still, there is something some of those popular girls have - like the other day in line, Steve Barrove bumped into a very popular (like, top 4) girl Katie and said, "oh, I am sorry Katie did I do that?" in a sort of good-natured mock concern and Katie cooly glanced at the ceiling in fake exasperation and said, "yes, Steve, you did that". I saw that she had a finesse I never could; that had he bumped into me I'd have mumbled and angrily skulked away pathetically, like the low status low life I am. So maybe it is not all about who your parents are; Carrie is popular as all hell (maybe top 2 in her grade!) and she comes from shit! hers is the only family poorer than ours, her dad is nowhere to be found, and he mother is a crazy drunk. My brother hangs out with her brothers sometimes and says that mother is an old baseball mitt who does cocaine. All I know is that she won't let anyone in the house. If she hears Carrie bring me in, she screams, "GO OUTSIDE!!" a couple of times Carrie successfully snuck me into the basement so we could play stuffed animals, but that is as close as I get to the inside of the house. Carrie won't talk about her invisible but loud mother. She shrugs off questions.

Carrie and I sit across the street at the elementary school and watch cars go by. We joke that I will never have a boyfriend, and I believe it is true. I write stories almost every day, during class, study halls and at home, I write fantasies where I marry John Taylor and we have adventures together. My friend Paige loves Michael J Fox (she cried so hard at the end of Teen Wolf because of the way he hugged the girl; too caught up to remember it is NOT real) and we are working on a detailed fantasy in which we are in a post -apocalyptic world with only the 4 of us left; the other people left are all mutants, bent on destroying is. The mutants are led by Mark Connelly who Paige had a crush on last year, but who was mean to her. The Problem boys don't figure in our post apocalyptic fantasy; Paige doesn't know about them, and their existence ruins everything. They figure nowhere. When Paige and I get to see each other we work on our story, we dig holes in the woods, and develop codes by whistling with acorn caps.