The Encyclopedia of Me (22 page)

“Yeah,” he said.

And then it all made sense. Reader, if you don't have a brother, do not get one. That is my best advice to you. Take it. You won't regret it. Also, you will likely get all your calls.

“So, like, why weren't you in the article?” he said. “That IS stupid. But you, um, looked pretty dope.”

“Thanks,” I said. I was smiling so hard, my face hurt.

“Are you OK?” he said.

“I'm good,” I assured him. “I'm totally good.” His eyes looked especially brownish-gold today.

“Hey,” I said. “Can I ask you something sort of personal?”

“Um,” he said. “I guess.” He squinted up at the sun. I could tell he was nervous.

“No!” I said. “It's not like that. Like not really, really personal. I just . . . I wondered what your last name is.”

He looked at me and then laughed in a great gust of laughing that practically knocked me over.

“What?” I said. “I don't know your last name!”

“OK,” he said. “It's . . .”

“What?” I said.

“It's Neck,” he said.

“NECK?” I said. “What kind of last name is Neck? I mean, OK. I'm sorry. That was totally . . .”

He shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “People get a lot of laughs out of it. It's just a name.” He scuffed his foot on the ground. “So.”

“I'm totally sorry,” I said. “I was just —”

“Don't worry about it,” he interrupted.

Ruth rolled up behind him, smacking him on the head by mistake with her backpack. “Ohmigosh! I'm sorry!” she said. “Tink, are you ready? What a crazy day! I can't believe how many new kids there are! Where did they come from? Did a gifted alien ship land on earth and dump them in Cortez?”

I laughed. “What?”

“Where did they go last year? It's like they appeared out of nowhere! Look at that one!” She pointed to a girl going by who had green hair and seven piercings in her ear. “ALIEN.”

I laughed harder. “She is not! You're crazy!”

Ruth dropped her board and did a perfect spin. “Don't blame me when they suck you up into their ship, then. Let's skate.”

And then they were gone, swooping down the hill on the music of ball bearings, and I was left standing there thinking,
What? They left me! Alone!

“HEY, WAIT UP!” I yelled, running to catch up.

And you know what?

They did.
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See also
BFF; Bullies; Cortez Junior; Kai; Quayle, Ruth.

Protective outer coverings for feet, sometimes leather or plastic or canvas, usually with hard or bendy bottoms that save your feet from becoming ragged, bleeding stumps when you step on broken glass or live animals.

I have four pairs of shoes, but I prefer to wear flip-flops if I can get away with it, for comfort's sake, although they suck when worn while on a skateboard.

My feet are so freakishly, hideously small that I usually have to buy my shoes in the kids' department. I hope you are generally happy with your normal-sized feet. You should be.

A sport that involves snow and skis, and whizzing down mountains dressed in glam outfits and goggles, swishing enthusiastically in giant S curves that throw sprays of pretty snow in the direction of passersby. Everyone knows this, but this is an encyclopedia so I have a responsibility to include important facts and related trivia. I do not know who invented skiing. Probably someone Swiss who lived near or on the Alps.

Skiing is popular among rich people all over the world, such as Prince X.

I am almost sure that I would be good at skiing, given half a chance, making it one of a million sports I would rather do than ballet, which tragically is about to start up again and I haven't yet had the gumption to tell Mom that I'm out. That I'm done. That I, Tink Aaron-Martin, am quitting.

But I will.

Probably.

See also
Ballet; Prince X.

The second-most commonly spoken language in the world, or at least it was in 1976 when this encyclopedia that I'm reading was printed.

And my favorite language.

¿Hablas español?

Kai is also in my Spanish class. This is a huge coincidence that points to the intervention of fate.
¡Muy bueno!

This is a picture of a Spanish dish called “paella.” It looks delish. (And although the idea of beach shells in my meal is a teensy bit disgusting, they also look quite glam.)

The act of taking something that you didn't pay for and or ask for, or deserve for that matter, something that belongs to someone else. And keeping it.

I'm not a Moral Superstar Who Always Makes the Right Choice and Is Frequently Held Up as a Model of Respect­ability,
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but stealing anything, even the idea of it, makes my throat vibrate strangely in a way that suggests I'm about to be sick. Don't tell Freddie Blue, but I went back to the department store at the Mega Mall the next day and paid for the food we ate, even though I didn't have the exact amounts. I gave them $14, because it is all that I had, and I'm sure we did not eat $14 worth of candy.

I think they thought I was crazy because they hadn't said we had to, but I think they just forgot to say it. It was pretty obvious to me.

Also, I'm scared of karma, as I believe I mentioned earlier, back in the
K
section that you should have been paying more attention to. Just kidding.

See also
Karma; Mega Mall.

When your body feels like yawning, so you open your mouth to have a good, satisfying yawn, but instead of having that happen, the yawn refuses to come out and settles deep into your lungs instead, making you feel like you can't breathe properly even though you obviously are breathing. If you weren't breathing, you would be dead before long.

If this happens to you, you are not “nutso as a bag of nails,”
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(which FB actually said to me when I told her about it a long time ago), you have just accidentally hyperventilated and need to find a brown paper bag, stat. Only brown paper works. Breathing into any other color of paper bag is useless, so do not bother trying it.

See also
School, First Day of.

Swooning is just another name for fainting,
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except it sounds more graceful. Say “swooning” out loud right now. See? I can see why it isn't used much anymore, as it's silly to use such a graceful word to describe crashing to the ground in a dead faint, invariably knocking things over on your way down.

See also
Boarding, Skate.

People who opt to spend their working hours teaching instead of doing something fun, like writing books or sitting in the branches of a tree whose leaves are slowly turning gold and red or perfecting their ollie in an empty swimming pool.

I have no idea why anyone would want to be a teacher. But lots of people do, at least they must, because there always is a teacher at the front of every room in the school. I was actually going to write a list of all the teachers that I have this year, and then I realized that that would simply bore you clear out of your mind and straight into another book. I wouldn't want to do that. What if something really good happens in the last seven letters of my alphabet?

The act of tilting your chair backward while sitting on it and attempting to balance it on the back two legs without falling over and cracking your head open on the hardwood floor, i.e., an activity that boys seem to find endlessly entertaining and the best way to make Mom and/or Dad furiously angry in the space of 0.2 seconds.

Which is how it started at dinner, with the tipping.

Mom and Dad were already mad. I don't know why, not exactly, but it had to do with Seb. He'd been sent home from school early for causing a disturbance with the fetal pigs they were meant to dissect in biology. I asked Lex what Seb did and all he said was, “Tink, you can't set a pig free when it is dead and in a bucket of formaldehyde.”

Mom and Dad were eating in a way that suggested they were only barely able to chew greenery in each other's presence. This may not make sense to you, but I can always tell. It's like Mom chews in a very determined way that makes her teeth click. And Dad very obviously smiles in a way that suggests that he's not happy, but rather boiling inside like a cauldron of fury, his jaw bubbling back and forth.

Seb seemed fine. Just like he always is. He was drawing. He's allowed to draw at the table, naturally, when the rest of us are not.

“How was school?” said Mom, helping herself to a big heaping bowl of broccoli. It had melty cheese on top, which improved it 100 percent, especially if you ate only the cheese and left the broccoli alone.

“Fine,” I lied. It was a lie on a lot of levels. Now that school was in full swing — which basically happened on the second day — it was a lot of work, for one thing. For another, I was feeling weird about Freddie Blue. And Kai had been so great, teaching me skateboarding stuff, but it's not like he was my boyfriend. Not that I wanted him to be!

Yes, I did.

I wanted him to be my boyfriend!

I chewed my broccoli furiously.

“What did you do?” asked Dad.

“When?” I said. “Nothing!”

“Whoa,” he said. “Someone's cranky.”

“I'm not cranky,” I said. “You should talk.”

“TINK,” said Mom. “Don't be rude. I don't know what is going on in this family.” She sighed and put her fork down. “Honestly,” she said. “What next?” She rubbed her temples.

“Whatever,” I said. “What was the question?”

“He asked what you did at school, dummy,” said Lex. “It's not a hard question. Aren't you supposed to be gifted or something?”

I glared at him. “I am gifted,” I said. “I didn't answer because I didn't want to baffle you with too much brilliance.” He snorted. “Anyway, nothing happened at school.” I rolled my eyes. “You know, school stuff. Classes. Lunch.”

“Oh, great,” said Dad, like he was listening, which he clearly wasn't.

“Remember, ballet starts up again tomorrow,” said Mom. “Have you found your leotard and made sure it still fits? You didn't grow, did you? Did you know that people grow more in the summer than any other time?”

“Yeah, like Tink is ever going to grow,” said Seb. He laughed and nudged Lex.

“Bwa ha ha,” said Lex. “She was, like, grounded all summer, so she's all sun-deprived and stunted.”

“Oh, that's hilair,” I said.

“Boys, be nice,” said Mom. “Tink, you didn't answer. Are you all ready?”

“Yes, fine, whatever. It's fine,” I snarled. A lump formed in my stomach and started growing, like a conk
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on a tree. I no more wanted to put on pink tights and a black leotard than I wanted to, say, have my arms removed by a saltwater crocodile while innocently walking along the banks of a river in Australia. I was not a pink tights and black leotard person! I was a baggy pants and sneakers sort of person! A skater! Not a dancer! WHY COULDN'T MOM SEE THAT?

“Did you try on your whole outfit?” Mom sighed.

“Yes,” I lied. “It's FINE, MOM.”

“
My
day was awesome,” said Lex. “Blah blah blah.”
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I chewed my cheese. Soy! Foiled again.

“Need bread,” I murmured.

“Me too,” whispered Lex, and winked. “MMMM, good broccoli, Mom,” he said. “I'm just going to get some ______. From the ______.” Luckily, as he rarely finished his sentences, no one asked him to. He got up and wandered into the kitchen. I heard the bread box open and close.

When he came back, he slipped a piece onto my lap. Sometimes he's OK. Squishy, white contraband bread was the best. Dad must have bought it because Mom would never allow something without nuts and seeds to cross her threshold. I rolled it up into a neat ball and popped it into my mouth.