This is going to be an awful way to spend summer. Dad keeps going on about how we’d better appreciate that he’s giving up his summer planting beans to take us on a vacation that will be special because we are all together and we will see where he grew up before we get much older and only want to hang out with our friends instead. Well, duh. Friends are way more fun to be with than parents who just work all day and then sit around drinking all night with their friends, bragging about how wonderful their kids are except when they’re bragging about how awful their kids are. If we talk about how gross someone’s Mom or Dad is we get this huge long lecture. It’s so unfair.
And now we have to sit together in a car for weeks and weeks. I wish I was old enough to drive. I’d just zoom off by myself. Or I’d go with Babby, who’s much more fun. She plays cards with me for hours and hours. Right now she’s teaching me Poker. When Mom and Dad aren’t around that is. Otherwise it’s Canasta. She’s staying in our house to keep the burglars out and the cat in. Lucky cat. Babby understands me so much more than anyone else. She gave me a pocket-sized atlas for the trip. Mom said “What does any child of eleven want with an atlas?” An atlas? Doesn’t she know I have three others on my bookshelf? She has no idea who I am. But then neither does Dad. I wonder how someone so much fun as Babby ever gave birth to such a boring man as Dad. Besides, I’m practically twelve.
I don’t want to admit it but I am kind of excited about the exploration part of this trip. Going to places I’ve never been before and only read about in school. But I can’t say that out loud or Sidney would call me a suck and Sam would say “She can talk, she’s alive!” like she does every time I say anything. Every single time. Sisters are so predictable. They sit together in the car and giggle. Mom smiles at them and says “Oh you two and your secrets.” I feel left out.I read once that everyone should see their own country before seeing any other ones. And I want to see other ones so the sooner I get to see Canada the better. Besides, Sidney said her friend Deirdre told her that every year the high school band teacher takes the band on trips to places like Toronto or London, England. Can you imagine if it’s true? London, England! I’ve just got to go. I’ll die of despair if I can’t.
Sidney said there’s no room in the car for all our stuff and why didn’t we get to travel in something good like a Winnebago, but it’s only because she has three suitcases just for herself. When Dad told her that was too many she said that being the eldest meant having to look respectable all the time which she only said to please Mom. It worked because Mom muttered if Dad wasn’t so cheap we’d be able to fly and then Sidney asked him why he was so cheap. Dad yelled at Sidney who said Mom said it first, but then Mom pretended she didn’t hear by getting out of the car to get another cardigan. Sam made sounds like a chicken but only Sidney and I heard her.
I can’t believe Sidney was allowed to bring three suitcases. One of them is full of just make-up and she won’t even let the rest of us try it. Sam only has a little bag but that’s because she wears the same jeans and tee-shirts every day. I have one suitcase too, but mine’s bigger than Sam’s. Mom told us we had to bring a nice outfit so that we wouldn’t embarrass her in public when we go somewhere nice, but I know Sam ‘forgot’ hers on purpose. Of course she’ll get away with it. If I did something like that I’d be grounded for a year. I brought my yellow scooter skirt and the hot pink shift with the belt so I could choose between them.
What’s the point anyway? Even if we were covered in diamonds we’d embarrass Mom in public. And of course she has no idea what it’s like to be embarrassed by her when she has her fifth cocktail and laughs too loud. Or when she has her friends over to play mah-jong and she makes us come in to show off our new dresses and then, right there in the living room, tries to persuade us to join the debating team or take up elocution lessons, or fencing, or something stupid like that, making it really hard for us to say those are things only losers would do because we are in the room with adults. Or worse, when we have our friends over and she starts performing, or practicing she calls it. That is sooo embarrassing. She gets so dramatic sometimes. Especially when she sings the Lord’s Prayer including the Amen. No one sings the Lord’s Prayer! My friends ask if she’s religious and I have to tell them she doesn’t even believe in God but she has to practice for her job as a funeral parlour singer. My friends tell me she has a weird job and I tell them well, at least she has a job she’s good at and that usually shuts them up. But then I often don’t say anything at all.
I kind of feel sorry for Mom sometimes. She always wants to do stuff and Dad seems happy to just sit and read newspapers. And grow beans. Only beans of course. Anything else might be just too interesting. Sam once set the bottom of his paper on fire while he was reading it to see if he’d notice. I think that’s the only time I ever saw him get really mad at Sam. But then I overheard him laughing and saying it ‘showed initiative’. Give me a break. The only thing they ever say about me is “we think she might be a slow starter”. I hate being called slow. Or stupid. Just because I’m quiet and not very good at math and sometimes can’t make up my mind about things doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Why don’t parents and teachers and other kids get that? Someday I’ll show them. I’ll do something really neat and they’ll all brag about having known me. They’ll say they always knew I was talented and that they weren’t fooled by my shyness. They’d say I was deep.
And it’s not as if Dad ever does anything with the knowledge he gets from newspapers. He’s totally out of it most of the time. He hardly even knows what day it is. He doesn’t talk much, even at their grown-up parties. Maybe it has something to do with working in a research lab full of nerds all day, but it’s probably because he hates going to parties. Of course Mom is a good talker so I guess he doesn’t have to be. Except when they argue. Then he roars like a bull. Like when Mom spends too much money on clothes. Mom says “It’s my money. I earned it and I can spend it the way I want.” And he booms, “How come your money is your money and my money has to pay the bills?” He did have a point. Once Mom complained about needing a new dress or something and he growled, “Don’t worry. All my money will all be yours when I’m gone.” She answered, “And when do you think that might be?” I thought that was pretty funny at the time.
Now it’s starting to rain and I’m literally starving to death. If we’re going to go let’s go already. I’m always the first one ready. It drives me crazy to have to wait around for everyone else. Just as we were really ready, Mom remembered something else and went back inside. She is always the one that makes us late. I know we don’t have a deadline or anything, but I get so impatient with her. Everyone else got out of the car and hung around but I sat inside and looked out the window, thinking about the things I brought to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I’ve got my atlas, I’ve got my journal, although I hope I don’t get car sick like Gweneth at school who gets sick when she reads or writes in a car. Gweneth Prescot, that is, not Gwynneth Hughes. I think Gweneth Prescot gets sick just looking at a car! Mom said I shouldn’t spend so much time writing and reading about places I’ll never see but how does she know I’ll never see them? I plan to be a world traveller some day but she says I mustn’t get ideas above my abilities and to learn something practical, like macrame. Yeah, right.
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