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

Ask Nikki

"So, I talked to Nikki.

I couldn't tell Betty or Phil where I was going, but it was easy to sneak out. That's one of the perks to having tired elderly people for guardians. It was only six pm, and Betty and Phil were both taking naps.

I hope this is just normal fatigue that goes along with being old. I worry about those two. They work so hard.

Anyway, I walked to Nikki's house and rang the bell.

Her little sister answered the door and greeted me.

'Hi, cootie face!'

She likes to call me cootie face. It's cute.

'Is Nikki here?' I asked politely.

'Yah, cootie face.'

But it quickly gets old.

I heard a voice from inside call, 'Brianna, you're not allowed to answer the door!' 

Nikki appeared in the doorway and glared at her sister. Then she smiled at me. 'Hi, Brandon.'

'Hey, Nikki. Uh, can I come in?'

'No! You're a cootie face!' Brianna giggled.

'But--'

'Talk to the hand!' She shoved the hand in my face. The hand smelled like peanut butter, and there was a face drawn on it.

'Why don't you go somewhere else and take Miss Penelope with you?' Nikki suggested to her sister, laughing. Even though the laugh was fake and tinged with fury, it--well... Nikki has a nice fake laugh.

I said hello to her parents, who were watching some nature documentary on the TV.

'Hi, Brandon,' said Mrs. Maxwell. 'Come join us!'

I dropped on the couch and was getting pretty interested in the program when Nikki tapped me on the shoulder.

'So, Brandon,' she chuckled. 'You came to watch how a family of prairie dogs, um, protects each other from predators?'

'Actually, no,' I said, trying to play it cool (and failing miserably) 'I guess I got distracted.'

Then we went to the kitchen--Nikki, Daisy, Brianna, and me.

'Nikki, can I talk to you about something?' I finally got around to asking.

She looked surprised about this for some reason.

I picked up Daisy and started petting her fur while Brianna ate a snack (I think it was a banana with milk and Princess Sugarplum cereal?) and Nikki waited.

I was  kind of stalling because I was nervous because Nikki and Mackenzie have always been--to put it loosely--not friends.

When Nikki talks about Mackenzie, she can get pretty worked up, and I'm trying to avoid all that girl drama. And the thing I needed to talk about was Mackenzie.

But I couldn't stall forever, so I finally said, 'Mackenzie wants to adopt a dog from Fuzzy Friends.'

Then I told her everything--except about Mackenzie's ridiculous blackmailing schemes.

Here are three things Nikki said when I was done:

1. 'There really IS nothing you can do.'

2. 'Mackenzie already has a poodle, who hasn't starved to death yet (since she has servants who take good care of it).'

3. 'She's a snake in lip gloss and designer shoes, and she's obviously up to something even more devious than her last scheme, and she deserves to be locked up underground for three and a half years after all the stunts she's pulled!'

Like I knew she would, Nikki gave me great advice. 

And, like I prayed she wouldn't, she also freaked out at the mention of Mackenzie.

It took a few minutes and a bowl of Princess Sugerplum cereal before she was chill again, poor Nikki.

As much as Mackenzie annoys me, It's nothing compared to how much she's been bullying Nikki since September. Hollister may not be an actual snake, but she's jealous of anyone who's smarter, braver, or more talented than she is.

And Nikki happens to be smarter, braver, more talented, and more beautiful, and if anyone ever finds this journal, I will die of embarrassment...

Hey, is this even a journal anymore?

Nikki and the dictionary (just looked it up) say that a journal is less personal than a diary. If you were really a journal, composition notebook, you'd probably sound more like this:

6:00 PM, snuck out of house, leaving Betty and Phil asleep.

Visited classmate, Nikki Maxwell, and talked about other classmate, Mackenzie.

End of journal entry.

Okay, maybe not that short and devoid of feeling, but you get the picture.

Huh. 

I thought this wasn't a diary. I decided it wasn't and never would be, but maybe I've been writing in a diary this whole time, and I didn't even know.

I feel tricked somehow. By either myself or this notebook.

And I'm gonna stop now. Nikki was right. Writing stuff out does help bring stuff into focus, and it calms me down, I guess.

But if anyone finds this very personal journal, they'll realize that Brandon has low self-esteem; an irrational fear of disappointing Betty and Phil so that they regret the day they took him into their home; and a huge, messy, hopeless crush on Nikki Maxwell. 

And then--

Then it will be the end for me.

Okay, not really. However, this notebook must burn. No one will be able to read it after I toss it into the fireplace! 

MWA HA  HA HA HAA!"