March 1 home in bed Dear Diary, You will never in a million years guess where we're going. Nope. Guess again. Never mind, I'll tell you. Italy! We're going to ITALY! In Europe!! ACROSS THE OCEAN!!! I even have a passport. It's really cool except I'm squinting my eyes in the photo, so I look like a dork. At least that's what my brother said. I call him Matt the Brat. You would too. Trust me. He is so annoying it's not even funny. He copies me, hides my hairbrush, brags that he has no homework, and spies on me when I have friends over. When he's extra annoying, I'll hit him lightly, he'll cry, and then I'll get in trouble. Or take tonight. We went out for Chinese food, and I ordered beef and broccoli. Sometimes I use chopsticks, sometimes I use a fork, but I always eat all the meat and only one broccoli--two if Mom is watching. Anyway, after I drank up all my Sprite, Matt took his straw and started blowing bubbles into his. Really loudly. I said, "You are so disgusting!" He smiled and said, "I know." And Mom beamed at him like he's so adorable. He used to be adorable. Back when he was a newborn, six years ago. I guess he must still be kind of cute because everyone always makes a fuss over his blue eyes and long lashes and dinky freckles. People used to call me cute too, but they don't anymore. No one notices me much. I don't mind. Who wants to be called cute when you're already ten? Okay, maybe I mind a little. I miss when people called me cute and I didn't have homework and no one expected me to set the table or put away dishes or make my bed or act my age. Mom reminds me that now that I'm older, I get an allowance. Four dollars because I'm in fourth grade. Sounds good, right? Well, half the time she forgets to give it to me and I forget to remind her. Then when I do say, "Mom, you must owe me twenty dollars by now," she'll hand me just four and tell me she's always buying me stuff. Like this new diary, for instance. Anyhow, Dad got a bunch of frequent-flier miles because he frequently flies for his job. He said we could all fly somewhere for free, and he let Mom pick where. She picked Italy because it's full of art and she loves art. She even loves teaching it. She teaches in the middle school on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. It can be embarrassing having Mom in the same building as me. Like when she waves or wears something weird or talks to my teachers or puts her arm around me in the hall. But I like knowing she's close by. Right now we're both counting the days until spring break. Uh-oh, it's already ten--like me! I better turn out the light. Yours truly, Melanie March 12 at my desk Dear Diary, BAD NEWS. I told Miss Sands that my family was going to Italy for ten days and that since the planes were full on the weekend, we'd be leaving next Thursday afternoon, so I'd miss one and a half days of school. Big deal, right? One and a half puny days. I expected Miss Sands to say, "Italy! Lucky you!" or something. But she didn't. She said that in Social Studies the class will be doing a chapter called "The Family," so while we're away, she wants me to think about my "place in the family." She also said I'll have to write a poem and bring in postcards to share with my classmates. Miss Sands can be so strict. Family? Who does she think I'm taking the trip with? Friends? Strangers? It would be impossible not to think about my family! And postcards sound okay--but a poem? How will I know what to write? I asked her if it could be short, and she said to make it at least thirty lines. Thirty lines! I wouldn't mind writing a haiku or a limerick--but thirty lines! Miss Sands has been teaching us poems by Edna St. Vince Excerpted from The Diary of Melanie Martin: How I Survived Matt the Brat, Michelangelo and the Leaning Tower of Pizza by Carol Weston All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
