Glitter, Paint and Homemade Cookies:
One girl’s guide to surviving middle school
By Heather Paynter
© 2012 by Heather M. Paynter
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0740-1
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Chapter 1
Though it was still dark outside, I knew Mom was awake. I knew it would soon be time. I decided to try and hold on to some more moments of quiet and listen to Joker sighing and snorting on the floor next to me. Joker is my dog. He is a mixture of breeds, has a sausage body and little stick legs. He also has more skin, fur and wrinkles than should be allowed by law. He’s sweet and destructive all at the same time.
Mom popped in. “Time to wake up.” I sighed. It’s not that I don’t like school, I do actually. But the first waking up, the moving and the no more covers is a lot to process on a cold morning.
If nothing else, Mom has prepared me well for a career doing anything that requires an early morning. Maybe a radio personality or a breakfast chef.
She has to catch an early bus and so do I. Therefore, early morning wake up. No complaining here though. My mom and I are close and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I think I follow her hard-working example by making the effort myself. I play the trombone, pretty much the heaviest instrument in the band. Sometimes I’m jealous of the flute players, but Mom tells me it will be worth it. She says that a lot and I believe her. She’s pretty smart.
I do well in my classes, even math because a fashion designer has to be able to add up the numbers and compute the budget for materials and sewing machines and stuff. Certain television shows and fashion magazines have taught me that fashion designers have to be good at all sorts of things. Same goes for being a chef – I might want to be one of those too.
There’s no turning back now, I’m up and awake. Sometimes those things don’t automatically go together. I throw on my favorite skinny jeans, shoes and a sweatshirt. Though someday, I plan on being a famous fashion designer, I like dressing for comfort. After this, it’s a whirlwind of breakfast, pats on the head for Joker and I’m out the door. Another day lies ahead.
Chapter 2
At school, it’s the same old start to the day. My friends Jamie and Amie greet me at my locker, which I think looks super cool. Quite a variety for a 13-year-old I think. I cut out pictures of my favorite musicians and pop stars. I also have some super cute hipster outfits I found in my mom’s magazine. Shoe boots, frankenboots and military jackets are my current inspiration.
But back to my friends. Jamie and Amie are twins and so much alike, sometimes I can’t tell them apart. It’s cliché, I know, but the truth. Did I mention that they like to talk over each other in their excitement to share cool information? Not that I mind.
“Maggie, Maggie, hey, we got a substitute teacher in social studies and he’s a weirdo,” said Amie. “He tells us stories that nobody understands.” In their excitement to share the news, the two of them are practically jumping up and down. I didn’t get the excitement. It sounded terrible actually. Exactly how is social studies and topography going to help me with my life goals? There are no mountains to name or countries to point out at the department stores where I hope my clothes will one day be sold.
As I head to class, I’m thinking about the weekend ahead. My dad promised to take me roller skating and that is going to be so cool. He doesn’t live with us, but we do fun things together sometimes. Practicing the art of reality avoidance, my mind wanders to other things – my cute dog, the fact that I’m getting so great at rocking my guitar video game and the time I spent on my science project on clouds that I am really proud of. It wasn’t easy. The color printer at home wasn’t working so I had to improvise. I drew all the pictures on my poster. I must say, it looks nice.
I walk into class and take my seat next to the window. Amie was right, this teacher looks crazy. He’s wearing a mustard-yellow button down shirt, pens in the pocket, brown polyester pants and dusty boots. I think it’s similar to the leisure suits I’ve seen on those hipster nostalgia shows. Gross though. His hair is slicked back and his glasses are crooked. Though my senses were less-than-inspired, I’m willing to give anyone a chance.
He begins to talk about a story dating back to World War II. Ok, his chance has come and gone. Now, what does this have to do with social studies? I look around the class to see what’s happening. Dave on the other side of the room is intently studying a book behind his notebook. I do know he likes comic books, maybe that’s it. Jessica is looking in a mirror at her makeup and Lori leans over to say something that gets both of them giggling.
Most of the kids in class are sneaking glances on their phones and honestly, it looks like there’s a lot going on in this class that has nothing to do with the government structure in Beijing. The teacher pauses to ask the stupid question that teachers think is funny and clever. “I must be mistaken, because I hear talking,” he said. Well, he’s right about that at least. I sigh, it’s going to be a long day.
Chapter 3
The thing I do have to look forward to at the end of the day is at home and oh man, I can’t wait to tell you about my Joker. He has some German Shepherd in him, but he lacks certain guard dog qualities. He’s really skittish and he runs if I walk toward him…and he loves me so much. I only add this in because he doesn’t seem to like many people. He dislikes people for no particular reason at all. Sometimes he doesn’t like the hat someone is wearing or maybe they think they have the right to look at him and Joker just doesn’t think that is the case. Other times, I can’t predict what he will shy away from. Joker loves big boxers, but at the dog park last week he was scared of a small dog. I mean, I can’t figure him out sometimes.
We adopted Joker from a rescue at six weeks old. I looked into his big, liquid brown eyes and was sold. I mean I loved him from the start and still do.
As my mom said, he has his quirks though. I mean sometimes I just get really frustrated. One time, a couple of years ago, I couldn’t find my doll with the extra long hair. Joker had eaten her, hair and all. He has a history of causing disruption, but he keeps life interesting.
One time we bought him a great collar, a quite fashionable leather one with metal studs. He ate the leather and spit out the metal spiky decorations. I mean, he has quite some teeth!
He also has a soft spot for loud trucks, meaning he hates ‘em. He got away from my dad one time. He chased a cement truck all the way down the road until he was out of sight. My dad was worried, but he came trotting back with a piece of mud flap in his mouth. Joker is my best little brother. He’s a big bunch of love in my eyes. I hug him, squeeze him and mostly I can’t stay mad for long.
One time he chewed a chunk out of my math homework,
