Dork Diaries: Tales from a Not-So-Chill Brandon

Why I'm writing in here

"So, I have this friend. Her name is Nikki Maxwell.

Before Nikki showed up at my school, I was kind of a loner. It was totally my fault. I assumed the other students at Westchester Country Day were stuck up snobs (some of them are though, just not all of them), so I didn't bother trying to make friends. But then at the start of this school year, I met Nikki. She's cool and funny and down to earth, and I let my guard down.

When Nikki turned out to NOT be a stuck up snob, I realized that letting my guard down had been a great idea! Now I'm also buddies with Max, Theo, Marcus, and a few kids from the photography club. All thanks to Nikki.

Nikki's always writing in this journal she carries around like a baby.

'Why?' I asked her one day, gesturing to the so-dorky-it's-cool pen she was using to madly scribble about who-knows-what.

'Writing about Mackenzie and...other stuff... helps bring it into focus, y'know?' she answered.

I shrugged, but could understand why Nikki needed an outlet.

Middle school can be stressful. Mackenzie can be even more stressful.

A few weeks later, I was trying to take a photo of the chess club members for the school yearbook.

Photography is my outlet.

As I adjusted the camera lens, a tingle of pure happiness shot though me.

Perfect lighting, perfect angle, the chess club members arranged perfectly.

It was the perfect shot.

At least, it would've been.

'Brandon, what are you doing here with these nerds?'

My finger hesitated on the button. 'Mackenzie?' I groaned. 'Could you go somewhere else maybe? I'm busy."

She leaned her head on my shoulder. 'Not too busy for me! Right, babe?'

I wanted to push her away and snap, 'Wrong! I would, however, like it if you'd stop calling me 'babe'. Because it's really annoying, and because we are not and never will be dating!'

But of course I didn't do that. Or say that. I just sighed and said, 'I'm trying to take this picture.'

'Not anymore!' giggled Mackenzie, as she swiped my camera off it's tripod.

'Hey!'

I chased her in circles around the room, the chess club watching like it was their favorite tv sitcom.

I may not be a track star, but Makenzie isn't either, and soon she tripped over her (ridiculously pointy) high heels. I grabbed my camera back. Then, laughing like a hyena, Mackenzie strutted out of the room. (Finally!)

'Sorry about that,' I said to the chess club. Then I took the pictures.

But the sunlight from the window had shifted. Mackenzie had also messed up my angle.

It was an okay shot. But not as good as it should've been.

I almost cried in front of the entire chess club.

I found Nikki in the cafeteria at lunch and sat next to her.

The first thing out of her mouth was, 'You look super bummed, dude. What's wrong?'

I don't know how Nikki does it. I'm not that transparent, am I?

'It's nothing,' I said. 'Important.'

It wasn't. It was just a photo. And Mackenzie.

'Did Mackenzie do something?' Nikki asked.

This girl--

'If you don't feel like telling me,' she said. 'You could write about it!' She held up her journal.

(Does she ever put that thing down?)

So, anyway.

That's why I'm writing in here. I took Nikki's advice.

And hey, I do feel a little better!

The end"