That Boy

I turn and run home.

Fast.

I slam the back door, run up the stairs, and slam the door to my room. I throw myself across my bed and cry. Then I move to my window seat, so I can look out the window at those stupid boys playing football, while I cry.

Why do I cry when I get mad?

Maybe he's right. Maybe I am just a crybaby.

Maybe I will just give up and let him steal my best friend from me.

NO WAY.

Never, I think, and dry my eyes on my shirt.

Just then, Daddy walks in. I'm sure he heard the doors slamming and is coming to yell at me. He hates it when I slam doors.

I try to hide my crybaby eyes from him.

He looks at me, out the window at the boys, then sits down next to me, and wraps me in a great big hug.

How come a boy can be so stupid, but a Daddy, who actually used to be a BOY himself, can be so wonderful?

“Three's a crowd, huh?” he asks, nodding out toward the boys.

And smart too!

“Yeah,” I sniffle, “Da

At least not very often.

“I was so mad at him, Daddy. I tried to tell him how mean and stupid I think he is, but then I started crying, so he called me a crybaby. I swear, Dad, I wasn't sad, I was MAD. I don't know how he made me cry. It's a big mystery to me! Plus, he's trying to steal my bestest friend in the whole world.”

“Well,” Daddy says, rubbing the stubbly stuff on his chin and thinking.

I love it when he does that. He has the most brilliant ideas!

“I know,” I say, interrupting him, “how 'bout you go over there and give him a good old fashioned ass whooping?”

Daddy laughs. He knows I have heard Grandpa say the same thing about me.

“Please don't use bad words like that, okay?”

“Okay.” I reply sheepishly, “But I think it would be a very good idea.”

“I don't think I could do that, Angel,” he smiles, pauses, and strokes the stubbles some more, “but that doesn't mean you can't.”

“You want me to go and beat up Da

“No, you silly goose,” he says, ruffling my hair, “but you are very good at sports, and you especially love football. Teach him a lesson. Show him that girls CAN play anything they want. Beat him at his own game. I think it would be good for Da

He gives me another big hug and walks toward my door. Then he turns around, grabs my doorway, and says, “You know, it's okay to have more than ONE best friend.”

Well his advice on boys might be good, but evidently he's forgotten the Laws of Fifth Grade.

You CAN only have one best friend.

That's okay though, his memory is probably going bad because he's getting so old. He is 38 after all.

I hug my knees and watch the boys for a few more minutes, while I get my courage up. I'm go

My friend Lisa likes to sing, Girls go to college, to get more knowledge.

Boys go to Jupiter, to get more stupider.

I don't know where she comes up with these fu

In this case though, Da

I look some more.

Well, I suppose my blues eyes are okay, and I do actually like the color of my long blonde hair, but I just can't see beautiful.

Oh well. I'm going to teach that boy a lesson, and I should definitely look as much like a girl as I can, when I do it. So I take out my ponytail and brush my hair until it shines. Then I put on some Lip Smackers lip-gloss. Lisa gave me this gloss. She says glossing is as important as flossing. I think my dentist might disagree with that, but gloss does make your lips look kind of pretty.

I run outside and walk right up to those stupid boys. I ignore Da

Phillip shrugs his shoulders. “Sure, I'll go out for a pass and you can guard me.”

Da

I look that Devil Boy in the eye.

Dad told me to teach him a lesson by playing football, but I can see now what I have to do. I cock my arm back and punch that boy right in the stomach. Then I move in closer and give him a jab to the face. He falls onto his butt in the grass.

What can I say? My Dad and I watch a lot of boxing.

The corner of his lip is bleeding a bit, and he is lying on the grass looking up at me with a shocked look on his face. I expect him to go home and cry to his mommy.

But he surprises me. He wipes his mouth on his shirt and looks at me with new respect.

He is nodding his head slowly up and down at me.

It's like his brain is transparent, and I can literally see the light bulb going off inside it.

Boys are so clueless.

Finally he says, “You know what? You just might be tough enough to play football.”

I have to say that I think we both learned a lesson today.

He learned that all girls aren't prissy wimps, and I learned that he just might not be the Devil after all.

The THREE of us have been best friends ever since.

Tonight is Lisa's 14th Birthday Party.

We have been pla

I think we started pla

This is the third one that I've been to.

Boy/girl parties that is.

The first one was a little boring, everyone was too scared to do anything fun.

But at the last one, things got a little more interesting. We played Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven. I got stuck in the closet with Andrew Martin.

Gross.

I wouldn't let him get near enough to breathe on me, let alone anything else!

I'm hoping at this party, I will end up in the closet with Billy Prescott. He is way cute.

Lisa assures me that she has the drawing, of one boy and one girl's name out of a hat, all rigged in my favor.

She lies.

I end up in the closet with Neil.

Right before we have to go in the closet, Neil runs over and breaks up with Mary Beth Parker.

Tacky. Very tacky.

Phillip told me that Neil has a crush on me. I let him kiss me in the closet, mostly because I haven't liked Mary Beth Parker since fourth grade, when she told everyone one not to play with me.

When we came out, Neil had a huge grin on his face.

That's when things got very dramatic.

Mary Beth was very mad at me.

She was all huffy and saying bad things about me.

Of course, she changed her tune as soon as she got sent into the closet with Phillip.

Then she thought she was my new best friend.

God, I hope he didn't kiss her!

Later on, I had to play spin the bottle.

Yes, I had to.