July 31
Dear Mr. Vance,
My best friend, Julia, visited during the last days of the school year. She had been let out from her school-year early, actually kicked out. Because of too many absences. She had to take a public bus to school and claims she always missed it. Her mother works nights and couldn't drive her. Her sister was kicked out with her. That was her first year in Omaha. I guess she succumbed to the lures of the Big City. She wore the strangest clothes in the name of fashion. She thinks that Omaha is the centre of what is chic, and that this is a hick town where everyone is five years behind schedule. One of the outfits she wore to school was a pair of her dad's old boxer shorts, decorated with the stars and stripes, underneath which was a pair of ripped long-johns. Then a top which was carefully chosen not to match, although I don't think anything could match the underwear. And she wore a band around her head that was so tight that it gave her a headache, but still she refused to take it off. We plan on going to college together, if we can get into one.
Oh dear. My dad is making me get off the computer so that he can work. I will continue this tomorrow.
Here I am again. Do I sound like I have matured in the past 12 hours?
I called the school today to see if I could switch around my schedule, but I can't until registration. I tried that last year, and it's impossible. They shove you through a line, handing you all sorts of little papers, and there's no chance to even speak. I wanted to take Art instead of Graphics. I don't know why I signed up for that, as I don't want to get ink on my hands. I'm not taking math this year. I took two years' worth last year, and Doug told me I would belly-flop in Analysis. I can picture myself getting up on my desk during a test, saying, "This is too much for me!" and then doing a belly-flop onto the floor. That would be dramatic. But I get physically ill when I see a math book. I know I need to take it for college, though. I can already see my life crumbling in two years. I have to take science for the rest of my life in school. I decided to take Physics A (which is easier than Physics AA. My brother said I would belly-flop in that class, too). I don't know a thing about physics, but I always thought for some reason that it would be interesting. I think if I talk about school anymore, this paper will crinkle and disappear in a poof.
Thank you for all the nice things you said about me. Could you tell my mom that what she calls sarcasm is really wit? Actually, I haven't been witty in a long time. That must be because I am maturing.
Joyous day! My mom told me to make an appointment with the orthodontist and said I could drive down myself for it. But now that she has made me totally unconfident about driving, I'm not sure if I'm brave enough. Soon I'll be an old lady trapped in my house, afraid to go out, and I'll peer through the curtains when someone comes up the walk, then pretend I'm not home. If I get my brother's car, and I'm not sure I will, I will need a big phone book plus the pillow I use for the Volvo to sit on. That's what you get for being born short. And for inheriting a 1973 Dodge Coronet.
I am crocheting such a nice afghan. I chose tasteful colours; some people use every colour on the earth so that it will go with anything. It is my first afghan. Before I would crochet and keep on going until I had a long piece of nothing.
The painting on my bedroom ceiling is a Chagall. My mom did it beautifully. There is a white border, then a pale grey, and then a border of stenciled leaves. She's painted what looks like the rising sun in grey above my windows. Now they look like they are arched, and it is very pretty. She's thinking about painting the cheap panelling in our family room grey. Then she might paint the sky on the ceiling along with window panes, so that it looks like one big window. We want Mom to go into decorating, but she says no one in DeKalb could appreciate what she does, and that's probably true. She also had landscaped our lawn beautifully. When we moved here, there were no trees to speak of. Now there are sloping mounds covered with flowers and bushes, and lots of trees. My mom used to be an artist, but then she had us.
Sincerely,
Kellas
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