London zoo today. Zoos aren’t really my thing. I’d rather go and see animals where they really live, in the jungle or the desert. After the zoo I went by myself to see the Royal Opera House, where the ballet performs. I am really disappointed we won’t be able to see a performance, but I am glad I could at least see the building. I walked back to Regent Street pretending I was the black swan in Swan Lake, who is a much more dynamic figure than the white one, who always seemed to have things happen to her than doing things herself. I had about 2 hours to shop, and I’d heard Regent and Oxford streets were the best places. I’ve been pretty good so far about not spending my money, although it’s been really hard. There’s so much stuff here I want to get. I bought a book about growing English beans for Dad. Mom gets a scarf from an old shop called Liberty. It’s real silk and has peacock feathers painted in bright colours on it. For Sidney I found a cool tee-shirt from Carnaby Street ‘cause I know she’s heard of Carnaby Street and would think it was really fashionable. Sam is harder, she has unusual tastes for a girl her age and doesn’t really care much about things. But she likes candy. So I got her a collection of chocolate bars that are different from the chocolate bars you get at home. And I found a neat deck of cards for Granny with pictures of a lot of the places I’ve visited on them. Then when we play Canasta or Poker I can tell her about them every time she makes a discard.
I know they all expect presents, but I want to bring them something anyway. I hate it when I plan to buy someone a gift or write a special thank-you card on my own, and then someone ruins it by telling me I should do that very thing. And when I do something without them telling me to first I still never get the credit. On the first day of Spring I got Mom some bath stuff I thought she’d like. She said, “Oh this is a bit of a surprise isn’t it? I prefer Lily of the Valley. Why did you get French Fern?” I had spent hours picking out French Fern because I thought it smelled the nicest. Of course I didn’t show how I felt. I just shrugged my shoulders or something. We’re not a gushy family. I don't like going gushy in real life, it's so embarrassing. In my imaginings going gushy is what it's all about though. I wonder what it would be like to have my mother clasp me in their arms and tell me I was the most thoughtful daughter in the whole world and life would not be worth living without me. It might feel really good, but I think if someone ever did say something like that to me I’d suspect they were making fun of me.
Joel showed me what he got for Shari. He always seems to pay attention to me when he’s bored or missing Shari. Then, when he’s got stuff to do, it’s like I’m not even there. And when he does pay attention to me he punches me in the shoulder a lot. My bruise is in the purple stage now. I don’t think he really wants to hurt me, he just seems to do it when he can’t think of anything to say. The other girls are prettier and smarter than me, but once he said to me they are all too boring. I wonder if that means I’m not boring. I hope so.
I didn’t have much money left over after buying my presents, but I had enough to buy myself a little map of London in a frame that I can put on my bedroom wall and remember being here. It’s a map of what London looked like a couple hundred years ago and I love it. It will look perfect next to my map of confederate United States that Granny gave me last year when she came back from Reno, and other one of the world that the school librarian gave me because China got ripped. I want to fill my entire bedroom with maps someday. Then I could lie on my bed and follow the squiggly lines on them with my eyes and imagine following them on horse back, or on a train, or on a camel even. Back in the hotel room, everyone showed off their shopping. One of the juniors, a pretty flute player who’s really popular, told me the scarf I got Mom was ‘nice’, but Avril said it looked ‘flashy’. Why are some girls so bossy and know-it-all? Avril doesn’t know what my Mom’s taste is. As a matter of fact, she likes ‘flashy’.
I’ve noticed that the girls who aren’t that smart are the ones that most act like they are. Avril always tries to hang out with the popular kids even though she tells everyone else how inferior she thinks they are to her. She actually says that, out loud and everything. I wish I didn’t have to sit directly behind her in band class. She always turns around and tells me what I’m doing wrong and how I should be playing. Then I get so self-conscious and play really badly which only makes her criticize even more. Sometimes I want her to be wrong just because it would be good to see what she would say to get out of it. I remember once when her Dad, who owns a furniture store, was interviewed on TV with all his family. It’s weird to see someone you know on TV. Avril didn’t say very much, even when the interviewer asked her really easy questions. So I thought maybe she was shy, and that was something we shared. The next day I got my courage up to talk to her. “I saw you on TV last night”, I said. She looked at me and said, “Yeah? So?” I just looked at her. What could I say to that?
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