The Friendship Matchmaker
Read The Friendship Matchmaker Online
Authors: Randa Abdel-Fattah
To Monica,
for the licorice straps, sleepovers,
and “deep and meaningfuls”
THE FRIENDSHIP MATCHMAKER MANUAL
RULES FOR THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
RULES FOR THE SCHOOL BUS (PART 1)
RULES FOR THE SCHOOL BUS (PART 2)
RULES FOR FRIENDSHIP FORMATIONS—TRIOS
BY LARA ZANY
WELCOME TO MY MANUAL.
My name is Lara Zany, and I am an official Friendship Matchmaker.
If you’re reading this Manual it’s probably because you’re sick and tired of feeling lonely. Or maybe you have a friend but you’re not sure where you stand with him or her. Or maybe you’re the third wheel in a trio. Or can’t work out how to strike up a conversation with somebody in the cafeteria line. Maybe you’re the one who gets picked last for sports.
Don’t worry. I’m here for you. You’ve come to the right place!
The first thing is to ignore every piece of advice your parents and teachers have given
you. Look at them. They’re old. They can’t remember what it was like to be young. They believe in things like “being true to yourself” and “being accepted for who you are.”
That stuff gets you beaten up.
The world of friendship matchmaking is complicated, and only a truly gifted person with a heart of gold can take it on. We’re all given special talents and a reason to be in this world. I was made for this job. A lot of sacrifices have had to be suffered. A lot of hard decisions have had to be made. But I accept that. It’s just the kind of person I am.
In my quest to make sense of school and help others make and keep friends, I’ve created a glossary of words to help you through my Manual.
| BOBF | Bus Only Best Friend |
| BTFP | Bus Trip Faux Pas |
| FMM | Friendship Matchmaker |
| LBC | Loner by Choice |
| TL | Total Loner |
| MAK | Make and Keep |
| RFP | Reputation Faux Pas |
| FIMS | Friendship Intervention Mediation Session |
— NOTE —
By the way, if you’re reading this in Spanish or Turkish or Mandarin (which you probably are, given the book publishing deal I’m going to get), I want you to remember that it doesn’t matter
what country you live in or which language you speak. The Rules of school are the same all over the world.
There are those who survive.
And those who don’t.
So read on to find out how to survive …
Follow these Rules if you’re fresh blood. (I use the word “blood” on purpose. Schools are bloodthirsty war zones, and if you think I’m making this up you ARE a TL [Total Loner] and deserve to have no friends.)
1. Get rid of anything that can be used to tease you. That means you need to smell nice, brush your teeth, wear clean clothes, don’t let your mom give you a weird haircut. Don’t give people ammunition. (I told you this is a war zone.)
2. For those who wear glasses, are cross-eyed, have birthmarks in strange places, are too short, too tall, too skinny, or too
fat—you need to enter the war zone like officers in an army. You need extra protective gear. HOMEWORK: Think of every possible way you can be teased. Write a list. Then think up some great comeback lines. Be prepared, or be prepared to suffer.
3. For heaven’s sake don’t stand back waiting for somebody to talk to you. Everybody’s looking for friends, and nobody’s going to be interested in the weird kid who’s sucking his thumb and looking like he’s ready to vomit his breakfast on the floor. Walk up to people and start talking. BUT choose your conversation openers wisely.
Example of a good opener
: “I saw (insert hottest movie star of the moment here) at the mall on the weekend, and he commented on how I have just the right look for his next (insert blockbuster movie).”
Example of a bad opener
: “I’m so excited that we’re learning long division this year.”
You might have noticed that I am encouraging you to bend the truth.
This is SCHOOL, not church, temple, synagogue, mosque, or any other place of worship of your choice.
There’s nothing holy about the cafeteria.
I stood at the Potts County Middle School front steps with my Manual tucked under one arm and a clipboard under the other. The morning bell hadn’t rung yet, and the courtyard was filling up on the first day of school.
I was ready. I’d spent the last week of summer vacation adding some new chapters to my Manual and changing some earlier ones. My mediation sessions had made me rethink a few strategies, especially in the Rules for Field Trips chapter.
Suddenly, I felt a tap on the back of my arm and turned around. A boy, probably in fifth grade, stared up at me.
“Excuse me, are you Lara Zany?”
I nodded.
“So you’re …” The boy hesitated.
I knew exactly what he wanted to ask. And I was very pleased with his respectful, adoring look, so I flashed him a big smile.
The boy started again. “Are you Lara Zany, the one and only Friendship Matchmaker?”
Boy, did I love hearing those words.
“Yes, I am.”
The boy sighed with relief. “My name is Dean. I’m new. They said I should come to you. Can you help me?”
I leaned down and looked the boy in the eye.
“Dean,” I said, taking out my clipboard and scribbling his name on a notepad, “I’m Potts County Middle School’s official Friendship Matchmaker, and I’m here to help. Now, let’s get started. Tell me everything about yourself, and I’ll find you the right friend in no time.”
By the time the bell had rung, I’d matched some new kids in the fifth grade (Sophia and Hannah—loved ponies and enjoyed chocolate-covered peanuts; Dean and Zak—both sports obsessed; Naj and Edward—enjoyed collecting
insects and soil samples) and scheduled a FIMS (Friendship Intervention Mediation Session) for recess between Marisol and Rachel from the sixth grade, who had been best friends until Rachel found a new best friend over the summer.
I made my way to the seventh-grade lockers. My classroom was open so I went inside and found a seat at the front. I put my pencil case on the desk and took out my exercise book covered in fluorescent-pink paper. My Top Secret Friendship Matchmaker Manual was tucked safely in the tray under my desk.
I glanced around the classroom and grinned. Everybody was either in a pair or foursome. Of course, I’d been responsible for matching most of the friends in the room. Except for Bart Franklin and Joseph Took, who had met at their Saturday karate classes—something told me they would eventually need me, though. The two only had karate in common. They’d soon realize that they couldn’t talk about black belts six hours a day without eventually using the moves on each other.
I sat alone, but I preferred it that way. Nobody
dared to think I was a TL (Total Loner). I was an LBC (Loner by Choice). I’d made that very clear in all my pep talks and FIMS, and I knew that the general school population regarded me as the coolest and smartest seventh-grader around.
The only problem being an LBC was that for some dumb reason our teachers were obsessed with “group work” and making “team efforts.” I’d tried to reason with Ms. Pria, but she simply refused to see my logic when it came to group activities or teamwork. I’d much rather work on my own, but if people chose to sit next to me in class or paired up with me for class work, I let them. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped, and anyway, I’ve always had a heart of eighteen-carat gold.
Sometimes I’d pair up with a TL in class. I wasn’t able to help everybody. Some people continued to be TLs in spite of all the effort I put into helping them make friends. That’s because they didn’t follow the Rules detailed in my chapter So You Have a Friend? Don’t Be Too Confident! Learn How to Make and Keep Them.
I mean, you can take a donkey to water and make it drink, but you can’t force it to burp, or whatever that saying is.
I made sure that the TLs knew I didn’t have time for friends. I was in the business of helping
other people
make friends.
I sat quietly, waiting for Ms. Pria to arrive. Being the school’s official Friendship Matchmaker had certain responsibilities, and I had to set an example. After all, most people wanted to be like me. If I was burping the national anthem like Chris, or making paper planes out of the pages of my notebook like Ralph, I’d probably start a trend. So I had to always be on my best behavior. It could get tiring, but when you have a heart like mine the sacrifices are easier to put up with.
The classroom was buzzing with noise as everybody swapped stories about their summer.
Everybody knew Ms. Pria was the best of the seventh-grade teachers. Rumor had it that Mr. Laidlaw picked his nose and wiped it on your textbook when he thought you weren’t
looking. And Ms. Simeon was obviously off in the clouds. So really that just meant Ms. Pria was the best of the worst.
While I waited patiently, I thought about the morning’s events. The first days of school are always my busiest. New kids, kids transferred from other schools, kids whose best friends had dropped them in favor of a new best friend during the summer, were all begging me to help them. So already I’d sorted out a number of friendship pairs and foursomes.
(I have a strict policy against trios but the reasons for this are too disturbing to talk about just yet.)
This morning had been busier than usual, and I’d been forced to put off some FIMS requests. There had been a lot of best-friend swapping over the break. But the new kids who’d transferred from a nearby school had to take priority.
Finding a friend for one of them, David, was going to be a personal challenge for me. The kid clearly had issues, judging from the way he talked to his basketball.
Ms. Pria walked in. “Good morning, class,” she said, with the same enthusiasm as somebody entering a lion’s den. “I hope you’re all looking forward to another year of learning. We’re going to start with English this morning. I want you to break into teams of three and do the comprehension exercise I’m about to write on the board.”
I couldn’t believe it. A group project already? I raised my hand, annoyed with Ms. Pria.
“Yes, Lara?” Ms. Pria said.
I placed my hands on my lap and flashed her my winning smile. “Ms. Pria, could we please do the exercise alone?”
“No,” Ms. Pria said and turned back to writing on the board.
I sighed patiently. Ms. Pria really didn’t understand anything and needed the obvious to be explained to her.
“But, Ms. Pria, how can we do our best in a group when everybody’s at different levels?”
“Lara Zany, it’s called
teamwork
!”
I could not believe that it was only 9:03 a.m. and Ms. Pria had already lost her temper.
Tanya Zito, late on the first day, entered the classroom quietly and plunked her books down onto the desk.
Tanya was a Total Loner. Last year I’d tried, through many Induction Seminars, to help her. I’d warned her that people didn’t like her obsession with sniffing school supplies before she used them (she especially liked rulers). But by the end of the year I’d added Tanya to my secret Terminal TL list and moved on to other more hopeful cases.