That Boy (2 page)

Last week, Mary Beth Parker told me I could be her best friend. She got me to play with her on the playground and Lisa, who
is
my best friend, got mad at me. The very next day, Mary Beth Parker told everyone
not
to play with me.

I didn't do anything to her. That's just how she is.

She is very mean.

Phillip was the only person who played with me. He didn't care what that bossy girl said. He acted like a prince that day.

I told him so and ever since, when it's just us, he calls me Princess.

And he's the ONLY person I'd let get away with it!

TODAY IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE.

Really it is!

A new family has moved into our neighborhood, across the empty lot from my house, and across the street from Phillip's house.

This is most unfortunate.

The parents seem like nice, decent people, but unfortunately they had to bring their stupid, stinky son with them. Why couldn't they have forgotten to bring him with, or left him on the side of the road somewhere in Missouri? Maybe someone would've taken him home, like a lost kitty.

That way, he could've ruined SOMEONE ELSE'S life.

Phillip and I have
so
much fun playing together. We play lots of sports, games, and fun stuff that I make up. Usually, we play some version of the handsome prince coming to rescue the beautiful, royal princess. But it's not like it's all girly. Phillip gets to do some really cool boy stuff, like fighting a dragon with a sword, dueling with an evil warlock, climbing the tower. Stuff like that. We even play Olympics and have all sorts of sports competitions.

But since that nasty, smelly boy next door came here, Phillip acts like the only fun thing to do is to play with him. Phillip and I are both real good at sports. It's not like I can't keep up with him! Honestly, I'm bigger than he is and can actually beat him at almost everything. Except for a flat out running race, he is a bit faster than me.

I'm always the first girl picked when we split into teams at school, but somehow, this evil boy has convinced Phillip that he shouldn't play with girls.

Today, Phillip and I are minding our own business, playing in the empty lot between Danny's house and mine.

Did I mention his name?

Danny.
Danny Diamond.

Devil Danny
is more like it.

I wonder if his parents know how truly awful he is?

Poor people. They really should consider giving that boy up for adoption.

Oh, I
hate
that boy!

He makes me sooooo mad!!!!!

Anyway, Phillip and I are playing a nice game of Four Squares, which ALL the boys at school like to play, when HE comes walking over.

He thinks HE is SO COOL!

The first day he moved here, he told me how he's a
great
quarterback.

I told him to stop bragging. It's not nice.

But he went,
I'm not bragging, I'm just confident in my skills.

Whatever.

I figured the kids at school would hate him because no one likes a bragger, right? Right?

Wrong!

Because of his bragging, his so called
skills
, and the way he looks,
all
the girls at school are in love with him. I mean he does have nice blonde hair that always looks like he just combed it, even when he's out in the wind. And all the girls have been going on and on about his
dreamy
blue eyes and his
cool
attitude.

Personally, I think they're just bored with the boys we've grown up with and would like
anyone
new.

Although I have to admit, the first time I saw him, I thought he was really cute too.

But that was WAY before I
knew
him.

He interrupts our game by saying, “Four Squares is a dumb girl game. Wanna play football, Phil?”

It's not PHIL, you idiot! It's Phillip. No one calls him that. I'm sure that my Prince Phillip will not let him talk about our game, or me, like that. So I wait for his reply.

“Sounds fun,” Phillip says, “I'll go grab a football.”

And off he runs.

No
bye, Princess.

Nothing.

Has Devil Danny used some kind of evil brain washing on Phillip?

Can he control people's minds?

Will he suck out Phillip's soul?

I am so mad that I could scream! But instead, I try to get along and say, “That's okay, football sounds fun too.”

Danny glares at me, like I'm a piece of poop that he just stepped in. “
Girls
can't play football. Why don't you go home and play with your
dolls
or something.”

Well that was about all I could take from that boy.

“Danny, you are a stupid, ugly, smelly boy.”

I am so mad at him, but then something terrible happens! As I'm yelling at him
, tears
start coming out of my eyes. Why is that? I'm not SAD. I'm boiling hot, furiously MAD!

MAD. MAD. MAD.
MAD!!!

I continue to yell at him anyway, “
And I wish you would just go back to Missouri and DIE!
”

What I say doesn't seem to upset him in any way. He just looks at me with disgust and says, “Girls are such crybabies.”

I turn and run home.

Fast.

I slam the back door, run up the stairs, and slam the door to my room. I throw myself across my bed and cry. Then I move to my window seat, so I can look out the window at those stupid boys playing football, while I cry.

Why do I cry when I get mad?

Maybe he's right. Maybe I am just a crybaby.

Maybe I will just give up and let him steal my best friend from me.

NO WAY.

Never, I think, and dry my eyes on my shirt.

Just then, Daddy walks in. I'm sure he heard the doors slamming and is coming to yell at me. He hates it when I slam doors.

I try to hide my crybaby eyes from him.

He looks at me, out the window at the boys, then sits down next to me, and wraps me in a great big hug.

How come a boy can be
so stupid
, but a Daddy, who
actually
used to be a BOY himself, can be so wonderful?

“Three's a crowd, huh?” he asks, nodding out toward the boys.

And smart too!

“Yeah,” I sniffle, “Danny says girls can't play football. He said I should go play with my dolls. I don't even play with dolls anymore.”

At least not very often.

“I was so mad at him, Daddy. I tried to tell him how
mean
and
stupid
I think he is, but then I started crying, so he called me a crybaby. I swear, Dad, I wasn't sad, I was MAD. I don't know how he made me cry. It's a big mystery to me! Plus, he's trying to steal my bestest friend in the whole world.”

“Well,” Daddy says, rubbing the stubbly stuff on his chin and thinking.

I love it when he does that. He has the most brilliant ideas!

“I know,” I say, interrupting him, “how 'bout you go over there and give him a good old fashioned ass whooping?”

Daddy laughs. He knows I have heard Grandpa say the same thing about me.

“Please don't use bad words like that, okay?”

“Okay.” I reply sheepishly, “But I think it would be a very good idea.”

“I don't think I could do that, Angel,” he smiles, pauses, and strokes the stubbles some more, “but that doesn't mean
you
can't.”

“You want
me
to go and
beat up
Danny?” I'm very surprised at that man.

“No, you silly goose,” he says, ruffling my hair, “but you are very good at sports, and you especially love football.
Teach him a lesson.
Show him that girls CAN play anything they want. Beat him at his own game. I think it would be good for Danny to
lose
to a girl.”

He gives me another big hug and walks toward my door. Then he turns around, grabs my doorway, and says, “You know, it's okay to have more than ONE best friend.”

Well his advice on boys might be good, but evidently he's forgotten the Laws of Fifth Grade.

You CAN only have one best friend.

That's okay though, his memory is probably going bad because he's getting so old. He is 38 after all.

I hug my knees and watch the boys for a few more minutes, while I get my courage up. I'm gonna show that boy that anything boys can do, girls can do better.

My friend Lisa likes to sing,
Girls go to college, to get more knowledge.

Boys go to Jupiter, to get more stupider.

I don't know where she comes up with these funny things, but I love it that she does. Usually they are so good!

In this case though, Danny's gonna get more knowledge. And
I
am about to school him. I get up and look in my mirror. Daddy
always
tells me I am beautiful, but I'm not sure I believe him. Isn't it required that dads tell their daughters that? Anyway, all I see in the mirror staring back at me is a girl who is
way
too tall,
way
too skinny, has gross knobby knees and some really stupid freckles on her nose.

I look some more.

Well, I suppose my blues eyes are okay, and I do actually like the color of my long blonde hair, but I just can't
see
beautiful.

Oh well. I'm going to teach that boy a lesson, and I should definitely look as much like a girl as I can, when I do it. So I take out my ponytail and brush my hair until it shines. Then I put on some Lip Smackers lip-gloss. Lisa gave me this gloss. She says
glossing is as important as flossing
. I think my dentist might disagree with that, but gloss does make your lips look kind of pretty.

I run outside and walk right up to those stupid boys. I ignore Danny and say to Phillip, “I want to play football with you guys, okay?”

Phillip shrugs his shoulders. “Sure, I'll go out for a pass and you can guard me.”

Danny steps between us and says to Phillip, “No way. She'll just end up getting hurt and go
bawling
home.” He glares at me, “
Girls aren't tough enough to play football.
”

I look that Devil Boy in the eye.

Dad told me to teach him a lesson by playing football, but I can see now what I have to do. I cock my arm back and punch that boy right in the stomach. Then I move in closer and give him a jab to the face. He falls onto his butt in the grass.

What can I say? My Dad and I watch a lot of boxing.

The corner of his lip is bleeding a bit, and he is lying on the grass looking up at me with a shocked look on his face. I expect him to go home and cry to his mommy.

But he surprises me. He wipes his mouth on his shirt and looks at me with new respect.

He is nodding his head slowly up and down at me.

It's like his brain is transparent, and I can literally
see
the light bulb going off inside it.

Boys are so clueless.

Finally he says, “You know what?
You
just might be tough enough to play football.”

I have to say that I think we both learned a lesson today.

He learned that all girls aren't prissy wimps, and I learned that he
just might not
be the Devil after all.

The THREE of us have been best friends ever since.