Leslie's Journal

Three

Katie was shocked when I told her what I said to Mr. Carrouthers.

Katie is always shocked. That's one of the things I like best about her. Whenever I'm bored, I go up to her and say, "Hey, Katie, guess what I just did?" and before I have a chance to say a word her eyes are so wide they look like they're going to fall out of her head.

Katie's been my best friend since I moved to this pit six years ago because of Dad getting transferred. I arrived in October. Everyone was already into their little cliques, and when I was introduced to the class it was like somebody'd just farted.

At recess, no one would talk to me. All the boys wanted to do was run around like a bunch of morons screaming their heads off. But the girls - they were just plain mean. They were all in groups acting cute and when I'd come over they'd turn their backs on me and start to whisper and laugh. Mom had made me wear this brand-new outfit with a sweater vest. Nobody else was wearing sweater vests, though, because apparently the Fashion Police had decided they were against the law or something.

Anyway, there I was, feeling like a giant dog turd. I knew I couldn't cry - that would be too embarassing. So instead I acted like I had something very important to do and marched off the asphalt to the fence at the back of the school yard.

There was a girl there with big cheeks and glasses, sitting under a tree, reading a Nancy Drew book. She looked pretty normal, except she was moving her lips. So I sat down about twenty feet from her and pretended to stare at this anthill, like I was a member of the junior science club or something. What I was really doing was praying my dad would get fired so we could move back home where i at least had a few friends. (I can hardly remember their names any more, except Annie Wilson, who stopped writing me after three measly letters - and after she swore on her cat Pooky's grave that we'd be friends for eterninity.)

I was just about to lose it when I heard a voice. "Oh, hi. You're Leslie, right?" I looked over, and it was Moving-Lip Girl. "I'm sorry for being so rude," she went on. "It's just that Nancy's gone to the haunted well all alone in the middle of the night and I didn't even see you come over."

I shrugged as if i didn't care one way or the other.

"My name's Katie. I sit three rows over from you. Where are you from?"

"Seattle."

"Seattle? But that's in the United States!" Her eyes went all big like this was the most amazing thing she'd ever heard, and we've been inseparable ever since.

I love Katie. I couldn't have made it through last year without her. During the stuff with my parents - the yelling, the fights, the separation - she was always ready to listen or to make me laugh. Even when her mother told her to get off the phone, I knew she'd find a way to call back within ten minutes. And for Katie, calling back after getting the Word was a really big deal.

Katie is what adults call "well behaved" - which they apparently think is a compliment. Personally, I call "well behaved" being a suck, and it is the one thing about Katie that sometimes bugs me. Luckily, Katie knows she's a suck.  "I just can't help myself," she laughs, eyes bulging. So how can I stay mad? I mean, that's exactly what I say, only for the opposite reason.

I guess that's why we're friends: we can forgive each other. Katie says that when she looks at me she sees a terrific person who really wants to do good. I tease that when I look at her i see a spawn of Satan who really wants to cut loose. Only i'm not totally teasing. The reason Katie loves to be shocked by my stories is because I do and say the stuff she can't.

Katie's biggest problem is her mother. Mrs. Kincaid is this giant spider sucking the life out of her. She's this giant slug oozing slime. She's this - don't get me started!