August 27

8:53 pm

It’s the night before my first day of seventh grade, and earlier, Daddy knocked on my bedroom door and asked if we could talk about the “birds and the bees.” I responded naively with a comment about how both animals can fly, but that one gives us honey, and one poops on our car windows.

I think he was relieved about my ignorance. But, nevertheless, he sat down on the corner of my bed—first brushing the comforter flat, like he always does—and told the infamous story of the hummingbird and the bumblebee who happened to have crossed paths at a crocosmia flower one afternoon. Daddy said now that I’m in Junior High, I have to keep an eye out for boys wearing backward baseball hats and shin length socks. He slimmed his eyes and bounced his pointer finger up and down towards my face. “Those boys, those boys are trouble.” I nodded, trying to seem afraid too. I think you’d calm him down if you were here.

9:22 pm

(Sorry, I was straightening my hair. Where was I? Oh, right.)

I’m a little anxious about the year, to be honest. Seventh grade is a big step. No more midday snacks, no more early lunches, no more “everyone gets a part in the play, NO MATTER WHAT”s. But also, bigger lockers, bigger boobs (hopefully), and this new thing called Study Hall which a mid-summer email from the principal said we’d learn about tomorrow.

Eleanor got her period, had her first kiss, and went from a 32AA to a 32B when she was in seventh grade. She’s about to be a junior in high school and looks like Kate Hudson, so fingers crossed that I follow in her footsteps. Those things are genetic, I’m pretty sure, so I’m feeling optimistic.

9:50 pm

(Got lost in the end of my Gossip Girl episode.)

That part about me being naive earlier? That was fake. I just didn’t want to tell Daddy that I knew what sex was already. It’s not that I’ve ever done it before, because that’s terrifying, but one time my ex-best friend Sadie showed me this video of this older woman and her husband (I think) celebrating their fifteen year anniversary. Sadie said it was time I “educated myself,” in that gratuitously but perfectly executed way she says and does everything. “Becs, you never know what might come your way… and better yet, when.”

What happened between Sadie and me was during my “I’m too cool to journal” phase, so I’m going to fill you in now. At my birthday party last year, Sadie suggested we play Spin The Bottle, but she promised me that if the bottle ever landed on her and my crush Jacob, she’d say she had to pee and leave the circle. When the bottle miraculously—but also probably not—landed on the two of them just five minutes into the game, Sadie didn’t as much as glance at me before crawling across the circle, staring venomously into Jacob’s eyes, and smushing her glossy lips against his (I bought her that Lip Smackers chapstick! ME!). After hysterically crying in the bathroom, I stepped back into the party, tapped Sadie on the shoulder, and politely asked her to leave and never return. Daddy was right behind me with his arms crossed and his famous glare of disappointment, so she sort of had no choice. Plus, he’s six foot three.

Sadie inauthentically apologized an amount of times that I can count on just one hand. But when I didn’t forgive her in just a week and a half, she stopped making lanyard with me at recess, didn’t go to Oak Street Beach with me on the last day of school like we’ve done for five years in a row, and her parents withdrew their deposit to “Game On! Sports 4 Girls,” the summer camp we’ve gone to together since we were eight. Daddy told me that I shouldn’t waste my energy on people who don’t wish to use theirs on me. After I realized he was right, I had the best summer EVER. But regardless of Sadie’s nonexistence in my life, I’m still nervous to see her tomorrow.

10:23 pm

(I’ve been running around my room trying to find my eyelash curler. It was behind my toilet… don’t know how that happened.)

I wasn’t planning on continuing Sadie and I’s annual tradition of writing down a list of our hopes and goals for the following school year on the last day of each summer. Thankfully, Daddy offered to take her place this year. At first, I thought it’d be too embarrassing to do it with him, but then I decided that if no one knew about it, it didn’t matter. The only difference in doing it with Daddy was that I refused to tell him what I wrote down. “Sadie and I never showed our lists to each other until the end of the year. It was bad luck.” I was lying through my teeth but, somehow, played it off.

So, just like Sadie and I used to do, Daddy and I wrote our lists, folded our papers seven times (It’s impossible to do eight. Trust me, I’ve tried), and hid them underneath the loose floorboard on the back porch. Then, on the last day of the school year, we will go through our lists and see what came true and what would be pushed back to the next year, while scarfing down hot dogs and staring aimlessly at the sunset.

Here’s what I wrote down.

Make a new best friend! Or at least a few new good ones
Try not to zone out too much in history class
DO NOT get distracted by Jacob’s dimples. Lots of boys have dimples!
Get my period (but learn how to use tampons first)
Have no more need for trainer bras
Make it onto the varsity soccer team
Score a goal in a varsity soccer game
Have my first kiss
Enter and sing in the winter talent show
Do not let Sadie Eastman ruin your school year!

We’ll see how many of these come true. Last year, I was five for ten, so this year, I’m hoping for six.

I know that Daddy, Eleanor, and I usually drive to Tony’s to get burritos on the last day of each summer, but to tell you the truth, they’ve always made me fart a lot and seventh grade girls have to be classy. So, I was allowed to pick somewhere else as long as everyone was okay with it. We all settled on Dee’s Chinese, and the orange chicken was pretty good. But nothing compares to half chicken, half steak, white rice, black beans, guac, cheese, and sour cream wrapped inside a soft tortilla shell.

Anyway, I bought this yellow dress just for tomorrow that Eleanor said made my green eyes pop and would make all the boys turn their heads. I trust her opinion… I think. I’ll let you know how it goes. Goodnight!

Love,

Rebecca

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August 28

8:19 am

(I’m in homeroom and Ms. Wexler just had us journal about our summers. I finished early, so she gave me permission to write in my home journal.)

Everyone gets to school early on the first day to decorate lockers. It’s a social requirement.

I dragged myself up to the fourth floor (7th and 8th graders get the top floor. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years) with my new purple Jansport and two Trader Joe’s paper bags full of binders and magnetic pencil cups and one of those locker chandeliers that was supposed to light up, but ended up being broken.

I promised Daddy that I wouldn’t get jealous of any of the other girls like Eleanor started doing—like most girls do as they get older, to be honest. I didn’t wanna worry him, so I crossed my heart with my pointer finger that I would only focus on myself. But the second I turned the corner onto the fourth floor, I noticed Sarah’s Air Force Ones and Isabelle’s ombre hair and Taylor’s double piercing and Sadie’s yellow dress. The same exact one as mine. And her boobs (who knows where those came from) were the perfect perkiness for the dress shape—not pouring out but just enough that there were a couple of inches of space between the fabric and her chest, and if you looked at her from the side, you could see her small crease. Sadie noticed our matching attires immediately. She hid her lips inside her mouth—as if she was about to say something and then stopped herself—and then squinted her eyes in my direction. I had a quick talk with my conscience and before walking right past her to unpack my things without saying a word (My conscience told me to act unbothered by her; my conscience is always right somehow).

11:12 am

(In Algebra right now. Took a “bathroom break.”)

Jacob’s assigned seat is one table to the left of mine and he’s wearing this adorable baby blue t-shirt and he keeps tapping his foot on the ground and it’s so distracting! Eeeeeeek! You’d probably say something like “just focus Becca, school is for learning. You can stare at Jacob’s cheeks when class is over.” I’m going to try and follow that.

1:24 pm

(I’m now in Science class. I should be taking notes on cloud formation, but my desk partner Ivan said he’d send me his later :D )

What happened with Sadie wasn’t even the worst part of the day. The cafeteria has a bunch of circular tables, and each table has nine chairs around it. But the teachers are super strict about dragging chairs to and from tables, so there’s a harsh “NINE CHAIRS TO A TABLE” rule (this year, they even put up a sign saying it at the cafeteria entrance). But my new Math teacher, Ms. Manilow, asked me to stay a minute after class to discuss my possibly moving up a level and joining the Algebra 2 class (Algebra 2 equals no Jacob, though, and this is the only class I have with him, so I told her I was flattered and that I’d “talk to my dad.”). I obviously couldn’t be rude to my teacher, especially on the first day, so I impatiently finished our conversation, only to be late to lunch. By the time I got my sloppy joe and green apple, I was the tenth person to try and sit at the table I usually sit at. But I quickly noticed Sadie sitting there at that table, and I decided that while Sadie got to sit at that table today, I would get to another day. So I stood around, awkwardly trying to find an end to my embarrassing lunchtime scandal; I had to settle with Ivan Walker, who was swallowing the sticker of his apple because his friends offered him a dollar to do it, Bethany Piggott, who was making a twelve layer soynut butter sandwich (MAJOR peanut-free rules at school), and Sebastian Schroeder, who was using the same finger to dip into his hummus and pick his left nostril.

To be honest, the three of them were friendlier than most of the people in my entire school. Bethany asked me what I did over the summer and what I’m excited about for this year. Granted, her tooth gaps were filled in with soynut butter, but it’s the thought that counts! Ivan reminded me that he’s in my science class this year, and said he’d send me notes whenever I needed them (I think he might’ve been flirting with me, but I’m gonna take him up on that offer anyway.) Regardless, I think I won the award for “worst first day of school lunchtime story.”

5:02 pm

(Just got home and ate some leftover Annie’s Mac N’ Cheese from the fridge. I was STARVING since I barely had time to eat my lunch).

When Daddy asked how the first day went, I said it was only okay and then went silent the rest of the way home. I think he was letting me decide when I was ready to talk… I love him for that.

9:04pm

Despite my telling Daddy that burritos make me gassy, he dragged my butt to Tony’s for dinner. He always knows how to cheer me up.

I told him about my day and he listened patiently. I told him about Sadie and I’s matching dresses and about embarrassing myself during lunch but also about Jacob’s shirt and what Ms. Manilow said and about Bethany and Ivan. Then, when I was finished, he told me how I’ve started a new stage of life full of petty girls and dimply boys, but also of quieter, nicer people who don’t kiss your crushes or leave you hanging alone in the middle of the lunch room. “Sweetheart, I know I’m just an old man and don’t know the first thing about the world of teenage girls, but I do know that in life, you need to surround yourself with the people that make you the happiest. If it’s the nerdier kids, great. If it’s the popular kids, great! All I ask is that you start thinking about who you think will make you feel the best about yourself.”

I didn’t say anything back. Instead, the two of us clinked our burritos together and synchronously took a bite. That said enough.

Anyway, I’ll let you know how day two goes, Mom. Talk to you soon.

Love,

Rebecca

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