So, she writes a journal, not a diary. [“It’s my gournal.” “You mean journal?” “Whatever. Guess I’m not all smart like you.”] “The difference between a journal and a diary, as far as I can tell, is that a diary is a recording of daily events and you’re supposed to write in it everyday.” Yes, that hard and fast line between the diary and the journal…no, Dear Diary for her…I have to reproduce the diary entry vs. the journal entry.
Got up. Went to school. Made gum chains with Jessi during recess. Came home. Had a fight with Vanessa. Baby-sat for the Barrett kids. Went to a meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. Came home. Ate dinner. Had a fight with Mom over a pair of shoes I want that she won’t let me buy. Did homework. Went to bed.
I feel as if I’m going to be eleven forever. My ninth year went by in a flash. My tenth year went by in a flash. But my eleventh year already seems a decade long. I think that’s because I’m so anxious to be thirteen. I wonder if my twelfth year will seem a decade long, too. I hope not, because if it does, I’ll feel thirty when I’m really only thirteen.
I hate my nose. I got it from my grandfather. I wish I could have a nose job, but my parents won’t even let me get contacts so there’s no hope for anything more drastic. I wonder if other eleven-year-olds feel like this. If only I were thirteen instead of eleven. Life would be a picnic.
Yeah, sweetheart. Life’ll be a breeze when you’re thirteen. You won’t be longing for turning 16. Or 18. Or 21. And when you turn 25, you’ll want to turn back…
So, in this book, Stacey’s just moved back to the S-town. And Mal and Claud are helping Stacey move stuff into the attic and they find all this old stuff, including an old trunk that Mal gets to keep. And in said trunk is a bunch of old clothes and jewelry (which Vanessa is all about, and I would be, too!) and a diary, which Mal acts like it’s the HOLY FUCKING GRAIL [we’ve already got one]. And of course, there’s a “mystery” and 1890s-style teen angst and they all think that Stacey’s house is haunted. [Okay, when my brother got a couple of old Mac Classics, someone hadn’t cleared their hard drive, so we were able read her diary…and it was AWESOME! But neither of us were like, “We have to find out whether or not she’s actually gay! Who was she? Cause we’re not stupid.] Well, the kiddies help them solve the mystery:
1. Sophie’s grandfather really was OLD HICKORY! (see Mary Anne and the Bad Luck Mystery)
2. He had her mother’s portrait painted over! It was never stolen! BORING!
Oh, and they have a séance to try to contact Sophie. And Kristy plays dress up! She’s Madam Kristin! And she’s a gypsy in grandma makeup!
Heh…”She would never, ever get arrested by the Fashion Police. She wears long, baggy sweaters, tight leggings, dresses with flared skirts, little ballet slippers, and wild jewelry.” Now, who could that be? Could it be Claud? Why, yes it could.
Oh, yeah, Mal also helps Buddy Barrett get better at reading.
Ooooh! ANM name drops Pee-Wee’s Playhouse!!!!
Mal’s shirt that she really likes is a “big white long-sleeved T-shirt that said I <3 KIDS.
More clothes! “Mary Anne, who can be pretty funky in her own shy way, was wearing a very cool short printed jumper over a striped shirt. You might think that those two things would clash, but they didn’t. They looked great together. The jumper was white with a small red print, and the shirt was with narrow, widely-spaced stripes. Claudia called the outfit “a fashion risk that worked.” Claud herself was wearing jeans, a plain white blouse, a pink sweater, white socks, and loafers. She said she’d gone back to the fifties for the day. Stacey, on the other hand, was in a much more typical outfit—a short-sleeved blue-and-white jumpsuit with cuffed pants [Stacey loves the jumpsuits. And the cock. But mainly the jumpsuits.] Parts of it were striped, parts were solid. On her feet were high-topped sneakers laced only halfway up so that she could roll the tongue of the shoe down (extremely cool), plus she was wearing a lot of jewelry.” Sweet!
So, am I the only one who’s like…300 million people in the U.S. as of today, a whole town in Connecticut that can’t stop reproducing…coincidence? I think not!