Diehard Fangirl

Chapter 2

“What do you mean no gifts? That’s totally not cool! Who’d you tick off?”

Jamie isn’t one to mince her words. She has the habit of constantly blurting out the exact things that I’m thinking but I’m usually too afraid to actually say. In some ways, she’s my best friend. In others, she’s my worst enemy. Take for instance when I had a crush of Tommy Hunter. OK, that was back in sixth grade, but she had an absolute fit about it and said that, if I married him, my name would be Cat Hunter and that just did not sound right. Plus, she happily told me, she saw him pick his nose and eat the stuff back in third grade. 

World’s shortest live romance ever.

“She said gifts later,” I explain, my ear pressed to my phone. 

“Oh man. That sucks!”

Growing up, Jamie practically lived at our house. The year that I decided to label my dresser drawers in green permanent marker, something my mom didn’t find half as useful as I did, I even wrote Jamie’s Stuff on one of them. She kept extra clothes in it, including a toothbrush and special hairbrush that I wasn’t allowed to use. 

Of course, I only get to chat with her before school now. Her mom moved her into a different school this year. She hates it. And, during the week, after school, it’s like she dissipates into a vapor. 

You see, Jamie has an iPhone. I, on the other hand, have something called a Jumble Bug or some ridiculously embarrassing name like that. And it’s bright green. Like florescent. There’s no losing that…even if you tried…which I have. 

So, while the rest of eighth grade is totally in tune with the twenty-first century, my mom refuses to permit me an escape from the world of tin cans and string. Jumble Bugs do not allow texting, only calls. Jumble Bugs do not connect to Twitter or Facebook. Jumble Bugs are flip phones and that puts them in the category of completely not cool.

There is one thing Jumble Bugs do have: keypads. Large keypads. An almost blind ninety-year-old doesn’t need glasses to punch the glow in the dark numbers on the Jumble Bug. In fact, I think the company advertises the product in the back of magazines in-between adds for those electric chairs-you know, the ones that float up the stairs- and “specialty undergarments” for people who can’t hold it long enough to get to the bathroom. 

Major humiliation. Thanks Mom. 

“Is Brooke coming home?” Jamie asks.

Ah yes, the mysterious older sister, whose whereabouts are always a mystery to me. She’s twenty and tends to come and go. Now that she’s attends college, I hardly ever see her. When I do, she’s usually running into the house, spending five minutes, and then racing back to go somewhere else. It’s like someone has her on fast-forward all the time. 

Don’t get me wrong; I like her well enough, although there was a period of time that I forgot who she was since she’s almost never home. I suspect she inherited my mom’s high-energy because Brooke sure is busy: between college, work, and horseback riding, she’s always somewhere else. 

“Well, you’ll get good gifts then, I’m sure,” Jamie says half-heartedly before we hang up. 

I’m not so sure. I mean Mom had prepped me with the whole medical bills scenario. That certainly had set the stage for no Jumble-Bug-to-iPhone upgrade. And I know Dad is totally out of the running for even contemplating something cool like that. He still thinks I’m into Littlest Pet Shop figurines and that was sooo three years ago. 

Cassie is waiting for me at the entrance to the school. She’s bouncing on her toes and smiling from ear to ear. My other bestie. When my mom married Marcus, Cassie and I met at the stables. We both started riding horses at the same time and quickly became friends, even if she is a blond.