Dear Dia Ree,
I knew better, but today I wore my new skinny jeans even though I'm not anywhere near skinny. My tee kept riding up over my huge roll of belly fat, and I had to yank my shirt down like a million times. It was totally lame, I looked like a fat frat and hated everyone who looked at me. What possessed me to buy them, anyway?
Sigh. I just wanted the delicious new guy, Bane, to notice me. Well, he did. But not the way I wanted him to. It was during second period lunch. Ginger was being her theatrical self and waving her arms around madly, like a red-headed top. I was too busy trying to keep my stomach sucked in to pay her any attention, but apparently I got distracted and made the mistake of exhaling. That's when I caught Bane staring at the roll around my waist sticking out over the top of my jeans like it was some disgusting alien gut-muffin. It was not a stellar moment.
On top of that, I think I failed the final exam in Ms. Boneur's class. Why did I ever think I could handle calculus? So there goes my GPA. With only a week left before school's out, I can't exactly make it up :(
When I finally dragged az home, I stretched out on my bed and cried for like ever. For a girl in the top ten percent of her class, my social life is pure suxage.
I hate being overweight. I hate Ms. Boneur (everyone calls her Ms. Boner). I hate my other fat friends. And I hate Bane. And I especially hate Candi Khorne (can you actually believe that is a real person's name?!), and her stupid pink pom-poms. She makes me want to freakin' hurl all over her sparkly spandex ho-fit. I think she looks like a poster child for Lisa Frank addiction. She's about as intelligent as a doorknob and twice as interesting.
Worse yet, I think Bane might be into her.
Bang, how unexpected...
So like I said, I came home and cried my guts out.
I don't really hate anybody, you know. I just hate not being pretty and popular. I want to be slim and gorgeous and mysterious, to look like my movie star idol, Hedy Lamarr.
But most of all, I want Bane to be into me.
So that's when I decided to do something about all these things that are bugging me. I'm going to show every body at school a new Olive. I am going to shine so bright Bane'll need shades just to talk to me. Watch out, world - I'm through soaking my pillow with tears.
And this time, I really mean it! In one week summer vacation starts, and I have an incredible plan: This is THE summer I am going to become the Olive I want to be, and I think I know just how to do it. By the time school starts, I am going to be the hottest junior at Medici High!!! Bane will pop one just looking at me ;)
That is why 30 minutes ago I sold my soul to the Devil.
Dear Dia Ree,
Bang. I was almost late getting to school on time. Just as I was about to duck out the front door, Dad popped out of his study still half-asleep, but sharp enough to give me the fatherly evil eye.
"I wondered what I was smelling out here. Thought it was rotten eggs" Dad grimaced. "You got on some new kind of perfume, Olivia?"
"umm... sorta", I said. I am not good at prevaricating.
Dad pointedly gave the space around me a good, long sniff, his aristocratic nostrils delicately quivering. "I'd demand my money back", he snarked. Then, with a whirl of his cape, Dad blew me a kiss and vanished back into his study. I should maybe mention here that my Dad is a famous stage magician (well, not really famous but he almost was when he was younger). Since he pratices or performs at night, he usually gets to bed about the time I'm leaving for school. Most times I don't see him in the a.m., but I wasn't so lucky today. I love my Dad, but he doesn't understand what I'm going through, and he thinks my movie star magazines are a waste of money. For a guy who spends his cash on magic tricks, he's one to talk.
So anyway, I had to haul az back upstairs to eradicate what must have been the lingering smell of sulphur and brimstone clinging to my soon-ta-be haute hot self. No sense in giving my hand away this early in the game. September can't get here soon enough.
Dear Dia Ree,
Ginger can be such a drag! For someone so esoteric, so into everything mystical and zen, she can really put a bang on things :(
Tonight was Friday. Me, Ginger and Berry were all laid out in Ginger's basement bedroom (2 kewl, btw ... I'd love to have an entire floor to myself!). I waited until we'd finished admiring each other's hairdos copied from the pages of our old movie magazines before springing my plan on my friends.
No sooner had I paused for breath before Ginger clambered to her feet, shaking her newly waved hair all to shreds. She turned red in the face and pointed an accusing finger at me like I had just suggested we rob an orphanage or something. Berry almost choked on her Fresca when I gave her my patented look of innocence, hoping for some support her corner. Bang again.
"Do you", demanded Ginger, "have any idea what you've done"? The fat freckled finger of fate twitched like a spastic Circus Peanut two inches from my nose.
"What's the big deal?" I said, getting annoyed. I had kinda expected more enthusiasm out of Ginger, since she was the paranormal 'expert' in the group. "It's not like she really wanted our souls, anyway..."
Mouths gaping, both girls practically screamed in unison, "SHE?!?"
Okay, I have to admit at this point I started to feel a tiny bit smug. My old confidence was returning and I decided to play it casual. "Hey, keep the sound down. We don't need parents snooping around our cave." I didn't say anything more but turned my back and studied my chipped fingernails like they were the most fascinating thing in the universe. I could like actually feel the nano-seconds ticking away.
Suddenly I was engulfed in a hailstorm of Cheetos. With affected dignified, I dusted off the blazing orange crumbs and climbed up onto Ginger's huge Hollywood Regency bed. I motioned for my friends to join me. I, of course, claimed headboard status.
"She was actually very nice..." I began. "Super pretty, too," I added. Then I told them the entire story of what happened two nights ago. We talked until almost midnight. By the time I left for home, Ginger had calmed down and become very thoughtful, business like. She was busy dragging large, dusty books out from her library under the stairwell when Berry and I said goodnight.
When I dropped Berry off in front of her mom's rented duplex, she confessed she was a little scared, but still excited and that she couldn't wait to get started. Berry, we'd all decided, was to be in charge of researching our idols to find the exact moment in history we were planning to duplicate.
And my job, Dia Ree, is to play laison with Satan, or Shatan as she prefers to be called.