The Cannibals

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The Cannibals

Cynthia D. Grant

For Miss Jones,

even though I still think

this should count toward my final grade.

—T.S.

For Ruth walker,

with gratitude, affection,

and admiration.

—C.D.G.

Chapter One

The most incredibly fantastic thing happened at school today. It's enough to make you believe in God. Which I already do, of course. Just kidding, God!

The best-looking boy I've ever seen has transferred to Hiram Johnson High!

I ran into him in the parking lot this morning. You should see his car. It's a green Mercedes. I think it's a Mercedes. It might be a Honda. Actually you
have
seen his car because you're me and I'm you and what is the point of keeping this journal? Miss Jones says it will teach us to be more observant and put us in touch with our thoughts and feelings and help us learn to write concise sentences instead of just rambling on and on.

“Those are skills you need to work on, Tiffany,” she said.

For
some
reason she thinks I'm in too much of a hurry and don't pay enough attention to what's going on in the world around me, particularly in her class.

Miss Jones explained that she isn't going to read our journals, just glance through them to make sure we're actually writing something, otherwise we'll get an Incomplete and won't graduate in June and our lives will be ruined. Barbie's just writing “I am so bored” over and over, but I figure I might as well do something. Who knows: Maybe my grandkids will see this someday! What a horrible thought. If I ever get that old, I am
definitely
getting a face-lift, but by then scientists will probably have figured something out so that people don't die or at least wont ge't wrinkles.

But instead of writing my journal, I've decided to videotape it, which is a lot more creative than putting words on paper. Besides, when I write, my hand gets all crampy. The
last
thing I need is that carpal tunnel syndrome. Then how could I do cartwheels and handstands? Plus, videotaping myself gives me modeling practice and I can study the tapes and see how I'm sitting. It's
amazing
how many girls just
sprawl
at their desks, like they think they're invisible from the waist down.

I figure if I have to, I can always pay someone to put all these thoughts and feelings on paper. Miss Jones hasn't approved the video cam yet. She's such a dinosaur, but I guess you can't blame her—she spent most of her whole life in another century.

Anyway, the boy in the parking lot this morning was so
unbelievably handsome
I went over and said, “Hi! Are you a new student?” Duh, like he could be the new janitor or something.

“Yes,” he said. “We just moved up from Los Angeles. I wanted to be here when school started, but the house wasn't ready.”

He lives in that new development, I forget what it's called, Weasel Creek or something, with the gigantic houses on the teensy little lots—and it turns out
he's
a senior, too.

I can't believe how well this year is starting out!

“You haven't missed much,” I said. “By the way, I'm Tiffany Spratt, Head Yell Leader at Hi High.”

“Cannibal MacLaine.” He shook my hand.

Cannibal! What an incredibly unusual name, but he
did
say he was from Los Angeles.

“Really,” I said. “That's so cool.”

“My mom's Scottish,” he explained, whatever that meant, but I didn't have time to figure it out because right then I was having a major brain flash: THE CANNIBALS could be the name of our group! Why should everybody but me and The Girls have a gang? That's all you ever hear about on the news. Not that we want to steal stuff or beat people up or get tattoos. We just think it would be fun to be a real group, with our own name and style and everything.

The Cannibals!
Talk about an inspiration!

As I escorted Cannibal into the school, everybody was staring at us, not only because we looked so good together, but because I wasn't with Wally. Don't get me wrong—I still love Wally. But lately he's kind of getting on my nerves. He wants to be with me every second. No matter where I go, he has to be there, too. It's like—I don't want this to come out wrong—but it's like he's the gum and I'm the shoe.

Another reason Cannibal and I looked so great together was because I was wearing my blue sweater that matches my eyes—and his—and his hair is blond, like mine. Talk about a coincidence! Luckily, I shampooed this morning and my hair was sparkling clean. Some people think eyes are the windows of the soul, but personally, I think it's hair.

The last time she trimmed me, Marge said, “I want you to try this new shampoo, Tiffany. It'll make you fall in love with your hair. Remember, hair is like a fine fabric.”

Finally, someone who takes hair seriously! My mother's threatened to cut mine off while I'm asleep, but I don't think she really means it.

As Cannibal and I walked down the hall to the attendance office, I was thinking about that TV show that's set in a high school and how they should make a show about
our
school. They could call it
Hi High
and it would be all about me and The Girls and our exciting adventures as cheerleaders, and Cannibal could play my boyfriend in the show, and Wally will just have to get used to it.

I wanted to wait and walk Cannibal to his room, but the secretary said, “Tiffany, you're late for class again.”

“That's okay,” I said. “It's just English.”

Dean Schmitz came out of his office and squinted at me.

“Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?” he said.

So I had to go, but Cannibal said, “Thanks,” and I could tell it was from the heart.

I couldn't
wait
to find The Girls and tell them about Cannibal and how we were going to call our group
The Cannibals
. Unfortunately, The Girls were already in class, but then I got this brilliant idea: We could get T-shirts or jackets with
The Cannibals
printed on them! It would look supercool and
everybody
would want to be a
Cannibal
, but we'd have to say “sorry,” but be really nice about it so we wouldn't hurt anybody's feelings.

I drove to the mall but it was still closed, so I went to the gas station and drank low-fat mochas until the stores opened at ten.

Then I went to the Quik Print shop where they personalize T-shirts and hats, et cetera. I thought about making some bumper stickers, too, but then I thought, no sense going overboard, we can always do that later.

I told the girl behind the counter that I wanted five red sweatshirts and five red T-shirts: one for me, Shelby, Barbie, Kendall, and Ashley, with our names printed on the back and
The Cannibals
on the front in big black letters.

“The
what
?” the girl said.

“
The Cannibals
.” I wrote it down, just in case. She didn't exactly look like the world's best speller.

“How are you gonna pay for this?” she demanded.

I showed her my mother's Visa card, which I borrowed last week and forgot to give back.

“You're Elizabeth Spratt?”

“Yes,” I said. There wasn't time to go into all that. “And I need the shirts today.”

“Today?”

“It's kind of an emergency,” I explained.

The girl's eyeballs rolled up like she was having a mini-seizure but she said, “Okay, come back later.”

I did some shopping while I waited and it was great. The mall isn't crowded at all on school days! I got a really cute blouse and some shoes and a jacket.

Then I bought some earrings and a couple of posters and an ice cream cone, mint chip and jamoca almond fudge, and when I went back to the Quik Print place, the shirts were ready.

They looked
great
! I couldn't wait for The Girls to see them! School was almost over, so I asked the girl if I could use the phone. You'd have thought I wanted to borrow her
toothbrush
, but finally she handed it over. Luckily, the school can't afford videophones, or things might not have gone so smoothly.

I called the attendance office and said, “This is Mrs. Ramirez. May I speak to Shelby, please?”

The secretary wanted me to leave a message, but I said no, it was too personal.

Shelby
finally
came to the phone—the girl was giving me looks like I was phoning Hong Kong—and I said, “Hello, darling. Did you remember to wipe?” and Shelby said, “Mother, is that you?”

I told her about Cannibal and how handsome he is, and she said, “I know. I couldn't agree with you more, Mother.”

Then I told her how he gave me this
fabulous
idea for the name of our group and she thought it was fabulous, too, and said she'd get The Girls and they'd meet me in the parking lot after school.

They were waiting when I got there: Shelby, Ashley, and one of the twins—I thought it was Kendall but it turned out to be Barbie; Kendall was practicing her synchronized swimming—and I showed them the shirts and they were like, omigod! It's like we're in a
rock group
or something!

“I know!” I said. “That's exactly what I was thinking!”

So then we started thinking we could be a
real
band. Ashley has a great voice and Kendall plays the piano, and Shelby used to play the saxophone until she saw a picture of how it makes her face look.

Barbie said, “Everybody's going to want to be in our group!”