My Miserable Life (4 page)

Yeah, that's my cupcake story. But Ms. Washington's cupcakes tasted great, and there weren't any stupid plastic toys on them, and even if there had been, no one would have associated them with me.

But today when Ms. Washington was handing out the cupcakes, Rocko Hoggen jumped up, bowed (yes, bowed), and said, “I'll help you distribute the cupcakes, Ms. Washington.”

I wanted to help her, but I had been staring at Serena Perl's part and the little red sparkly things along the neckline of her shirt and hadn't thought of it. Ms. Washington said, “Thank you, Rocko. You are the cat's meow.”

Great. Even Ms. Washington was going over to Rocko's side.

Leif Zuniga's mom, who is the room parent, came into the classroom to help Ms. Washington collect and grade the tests. A lady walked in with her. She had on a pink T-shirt with a heart that said
RUN FOR YOUR LIFE
, just like Mrs. Zuniga's T-shirt.

“Boys and girls, you know our room parent, Mrs. Zuniga,” Ms. Washington said. “And this is our other room parent, Mrs. Hoggen. Thank you so much, ladies.”

My mother would never be a room parent; she was always too busy for some reason. I guess it's hard being a single mom without a dad to help, but she should have thought of that a long time ago.

My mother didn't even have time to run for anyone's life. I was glad she wasn't a room parent, because she would have embarrassed me. But still, why couldn't I have a mom who helped Ms. Washington?

Mrs. Zuniga and Mrs. Hoggen seemed like they might hold hands when they left the classroom together; they looked like they really were best friends. Just like their kids.

At recess I ran around the track by myself until I could hardly breathe and felt like throwing up. Maybe I didn't have any friends; maybe my mom wasn't room parent material. I wasn't the cat's pajamas like Rocko. But at least I was fast.

*   *   *

When I got home from school, I guess I looked pretty upset, because my mom was all “What's wrong, Ben? Ben, sweetie? What is it?”

I wouldn't answer.

“Maybe you're hungry? Are you hungry? Did you eat your lunch? Why don't you eat your lunch?” There she went with the question marks again.

“Mom, I hate what you pack me.”

She looked through my lunchbox and found the untouched sandwich and seaweed and carrots and mostly untouched grapes. “How can you go a whole day on three grapes?”

“That's not what's bothering me. Everything is not always about food. You don't know how to parent.”

I learned this line from Angelina. It always makes my mom really mad, probably because it's kind of true. She always tells us that no one can make you mad if what they say isn't true, because then it can't hit a nerve. I guess I hit a nerve.

“How could you say that? After all I do for you every day of your life? Do you ever think about all the things I do for you?” She went on and on while I took off my shoes and picked the lint from between my toes, ignoring her.

Angelina came into the room with her cheerleader friends Twinkle Knoll and Amanda Panda Rodriguez. They were listening to the Nananna song “Na Na Na Na Na Na Na” on Angelina's phone. “What's wrong, Ben?” she asked.

I wouldn't answer her, especially in front of Twinkle and Amanda Panda.

“Remember to go where the love is,” my sister said, before dancing away.

But I didn't really know where that was anymore.

*   *   *

Later, I got in bed and my mom came to say good night. “I'm sorry I got so mad,” she said.

I told her I was sorry for saying she didn't know how to parent.

“I probably got mad because it's kind of true sometimes. It's a pretty hard job, and I try to do my best, but it's not always very good. Do you want to tell me what happened at school today?”

But I didn't want to tell her. It would have sounded stupid to say, “I'm upset because my teacher called Rocko Hoggen the cat's meow.” And my mom would have just said, “I think you're the cat's meow,” which wasn't the same thing as Ms. Washington saying it.

Besides, there were so many other things that were wrong, it was kind of overwhelming.

When my mom kissed me and turned off the light, I remembered what Ms. Washington had said about how she wanted me to think of one thing that was okay. I thought for a while. It was September, and not much good stuff happens in September. Summer ends, and you have to go back to school. Then I realized that Halloween was coming in a month. It felt like forever, but at least it was something to look forward to. Sort of.

 

OCTOBER

THE CANDY CORN CARNIVAL

by Ben Hunter

There's a carnival at our school just before Halloween to raise money to buy computers and art supplies. It's called the Candy Corn Carnival. I'm not sure if I think this is such a good event.

There are many delicious temptations that I'm not allowed to eat because my mother is an antisugar fanatic. It doesn't seem fair that my mom lets me go to an event named after a candy but hardly lets me eat anything sweet.

Another reason I don't like the carnival is the cakewalk. A cakewalk is where they play music and you walk in circles until the music stops. If you're on the number they call when you stop, you win a cake.

My sister, Angelina, won a cake during a Dustin Peeper song called “I Love You, Baby, You Pretty Little Girl.” She thought she'd won because Dustin Peeper is good luck for her. The cake was big and pink and white. She gave it to Amanda Panda for safekeeping.

I won a cake, too, during a hip-hop song by the rapper Valet. It was a good song and a good cake. The cake was small and chocolate and beautiful. I loved that cake. True story. But my mom came over just as I won it and asked if she could donate my cake to the homeless shelter. I said no. No way. That cake was mine. I backed away from her and tripped, and my cake fell in the mud. Just then, a kid I know, whose name I will not mention here (but it rhymes with
taco
), walked by and tossed his Dustin Peeper hair and smiled at me.

He said, “Hey, Ben, nice cake.”

When we got home, Amanda Panda came over with a big box that she said was for a school project. I knew what was really in there. She and my sister ate it all without sharing any with me.

These are the reasons that I think the Candy Corn Carnival is a bad event and should be abolished.

 

CHAPTER 4

THE MONSTER HEAD THAT DIDN'T SPURT BLOOD

“Mom, Ben needs a good Halloween costume,” Angelina said. “That will cheer him up. A really scary one, not one for babies. Right, Ben?”

I didn't want to admit that she was right. But it wasn't a bad idea. I had been asking my mom for a Halloween costume for weeks, and Mom just kept saying that I should wear one of my old ones. These included the Timmy the Train that I wore for three years straight, a Ninja Rabbit, and a robot. None of these were acceptable, not to mention that they were all too small. But of course Angelina had an ulterior motive. “Can Monkeylad and I get one?” she asked with a head roll and jump in the air. Twinkle and Amanda Panda, who were with her as usual, followed suit.

My mom rubbed her temples. “Can you and Monkeylad get one, too?” she said in her usual stressed, question-mark way. But she agreed as long as Angelina took me.

Great, I had to go costume shopping with my sister? But at least she'd gotten my mom to fork over the money.

Monkeylad came skidding across the wood floor and jumped up, trying to lick off Angelina's freshly applied lip gloss. He had demon eyes. Angelina and her friends ran away from him, screaming.

My mom asked me to throw a ball with Monkeylad in the backyard, but I didn't want to when his eyes were rolling around like that.

*   *   *

Angelina didn't like taking me costume shopping, but she did like to go to Bull's Eye, our favorite neighborhood store, especially when she had cash from Mom. We went straight to the Halloween section. It was well picked through, but among the stupid animal suits and pirates and wizards and vampires that Angelina said were “totally uncool,” I saw the perfect costume.

It was a monster with a head that had been split in half so that part of the brain showed. Blood squirted out and ran down the inside of the mask when you squeezed this attached pump. The chest had been split open to reveal a large, bleeding plastic heart. The costume was SICK! I knew I had to have it. But by the time Angelina bought her pink catsuit with ears and tail, there was only enough money to get a monster head that looked like the cool one except it didn't squirt blood.

“You owe me, Ben Hunter,” she said. “I got Mom to get you a new costume, and she made me take you instead of going with Twinkle and Amanda Panda. Plus, before you were born, I didn't have to share my costume money with anyone.”