Chapter One
A Hot Mess


Beatrice Coleman forces one eye open. Another wonderful day to face...
It wouldn’t be so bad if Beatrice had a single thing to look forward to. She blinks—trying to adjust to the morning sun, but then quickly closes her eyes and pulls the covers over her head. Last night she had decided she was not going to school today. She would lie in bed and would not budge, no matter what anyone had to say…
“Beatrice, it’s time to get ready for school,” her mother calls.
“Okay mom, I’m getting up.”
She pulls back her warm comforter adorned with blue and white marching penguins. Her room is royal blue with light blue curtains, her favorite colors. There are posters covering the walls: some fuzzy kittens and puppies, her favorite teen movie stars and a picture of the Orion Nebula taken by the Hubble Space Station. On the floor,
stuffed animals are scattered about; and in the corner, a small writing desk she uses for homework.
Beatrice throws her legs over the side of the bed facing the window and moves slowly towards her bathroom. Her pajamas are too big and nearly cause her to fall, again.
“Is my life this predictable? I’m almost twelve years old, and I can’t even walk without tripping.” she mumbles to herself.
Beatrice enters her bathroom and looks into the mirror, silently critiquing the image in front of her…

You are a hot mess!
Stringy brown hair…
Pointed noise…
Big mouth…
Too tall, too skinny…
And a zit on your forehead!
No chance of any boys checking this out.

Thank goodness she doesn’t have a sister who looks like Megan Fox or some other perfect female. That would just be too much to take; dealing with super models at school and at home! There’s just Beatrice, her mom and dad.
She washes her face and other vital parts, brushes her teeth, runs the brush through her tangled hair, puts on a baggy tee shirt and jeans, mismatched socks, her favorite worn sneakers and goes down to breakfast.
“Morning, Beatrice,” her mom smiles, “You sleep well?”
“Mom, please don’t call me that.”
“Honey, that’s your name. You really want me to call you Bitty?”
“Yeah, duh?”
Her mother gives her the look

.
“Sorry, mom; I know some kids call me Bitty just to make fun of my size, but Bitty is better than Beatrice.”
Her mother smiles, sympathetically.
“Honey, you might consider wearing some of the nice outfits me and your dad got you last Christmas.”
Bitty doesn’t answer.
“Eat your breakfast sweetie. You’ll be late for school.”
Bitty picks at her cereal, takes a few bites of toast; drinks some orange juice. She grabs her jacket, backpack and kisses her mom good-bye.
The bus stop is two blocks from her house. She stands on the front porch for a while enjoying the view. Autumn is her favorite time of the year. The day is crisp, bright and breezy. The wind stirs the leaves around on the ground giving her a great variety of colors and textures to choose from for her “crunching ritual.” She leaps down all four steps in a single bound and goes to it! This ritual, crunching leaves, makes her feel happy and normal, like she’s any other kid. The leave crunch will never elicit words like:

Weirdo
Nerd
Geek
Nut Ball
Moron
Loser

All kids love crunching leaves. Some kids may try to hide their crunching addiction—casually walking through the leaves or kicking them around a little, like it doesn’t matter. But the addiction is there, none the less. Through years of random, unscientific observation, Bitty has also witnessed grown-ups crunching leaves. Her dad will crunch leaves in public, right out in front of the neighbors! Can you believe that? Why it’s down right embarrassing. Man, grown-ups can be so immature sometimes.

Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch
Crunch

Bitty crunches the leaves while turning in circles, then crunches while running. She piles a bunch of leaves together and does a major, massive, mundo crunch. She wildly enjoys herself.

Silently, in the trees, the squirrels watch.


Chapter Two
The School Bus


Bitty waits for the bus to arrive. There are five or six neighborhood kids already gathered. She knows them all, but no one talks to her. Amy and Carly giggle at some private joke. Jason and Tim are texting one another. Christian works an electronic game. Bitty turns away, a little embarrassed; sighs and waits.

The big, yellow bus pulls to a noisy stop. Mrs. Jamison, a robust woman with a kind smile, opens the doors using the ancient-looking-lever-handle-gizmo-thingy.
Geez, you’d think by now these buses would have a computerized system with a button or laser or something to open the doors. Oh yeah. Hello, how about some seat belts!

The kids make their way onto the bus. Bitty is last to board.
“Hi, Mrs. Jamison.”
“Hi Ms. Bitty, how ya doin’?” Mrs. Jamison replies.
“I’m good.”
The bus is nearly full. Mostly, all the kids are talking or laughing or engaging in some activity. Bitty carefully begins to make her way to a seat just as the bus takes off with a jerk. Bitty doesn’t have a friend or a bus partner to share her daily ride to school. So each morning she has to endure this miserable process of finding somewhere to sit (with someone not crazy, mean, disturbed, angry, psychotic, or badly in need of a bath). Bitty tries to appear casual as she glances around at the empty seats. She immediately rules out two of the five available options.
Sitting in the first seat is Melvin, a totally disgusting human specimen. As usual, Melvin is busy picking his nose. You’d think he earns an hourly wage for his dedicated efforts.

He enthusiastically shares his successful excavation, (two sizable, mucus-covered boogers) with some kid seated in front of him.

Moving along…

The second seat is occupied by Cynda, a rather large girl who randomly terrorizes kids half her size. Bitty doesn’t know much else about Cynda, except for the rumors she’s overheard around school.
No point in destroying my life so early in the day.

Keep moving…

Bitty eyes a seat near the back of the bus. She can’t believe her good fortune. It is completely empty! She takes her time getting there. Experience has taught her that anything can happen between here and getting there. She doesn’t want to alert anyone of her intentions, so she directs her eyes toward another seat closer and just to her right. The kid seated there isn’t paying her any attention. As she reaches the seat, Bitty thinks; maybe I should just sit here.

But, just as she considers it and begins taking her backpack from her shoulder, the freckled face girl with bright auburn hair looks up and scowls.

Continue moving…

She finally reaches the empty seat, without incident, but by then is emotionally worn out. She is completely exhausted and hasn’t even gotten to school yet!
A few moments pass and Bitty relaxes a little, quietly enjoying the sights outside the bus. Her neighborhood is so cool. Her mom says the neighborhood is eclectic with lots of different styles of houses. Bitty’s house is a Tudor style home. There are also Colonial, Bungalow and Ranch style homes in their neighborhood. The lawns roll along like hills and there are big, shady trees everywhere. Some of the neighbors are out walking their dogs, the birds are chirping, the leaves are falling. It’s perfect!
Bitty is in her zone, when unexpectedly someone taps her on the shoulder. She rolls her eyes to the right trying to get a glimpse before turning. No good. Bitty turns her head and shifts her body a little to see.
OMG! It’s Ryan Collins. He is the hottest boy in the whole school!
He looks just like Justin Bieber! What does he want with---?

“Sup, Bits?”
“Uhmmm, nothing much,” Bitty answers.
“Hey, I was wondering if you’re planning on goin’ to the Social this Friday.”
“I-I-I wasn’t…, I mean I don’t think so?”
“You wanna’ go with me?”
Bitty shrugs her shoulders.
“I guess so. I’d have to ask my mom, but yes, sure.”
“Never mind,” Ryan says.
“What?”
“I said never mind. I change my mind.”
Ryan suddenly gets up from the seat behind Bitty and heads back to his spot across the isle with four other boys, all thirteen years old. She turns just in time to see them all aiming straws in her direction. “Don’t—” is all Bitty has time to cry out before a torrent of saliva pellets pelt her on the face, neck and shoulders. The boys stop almost not wishing to risk Mrs. Jamison stopping the bus to investigate. Ryan and the other boys laugh hysterically. Then finally, one boy leans over to whisper, “Whas da matter Itsy Bitty?” Her face hot, Bitty glares at the boy, then turns away.
Bitty feels the sting of hot tears in back of her eyes. She squeezes her eyes closed tight. She knows better, but it feels like the whole world is laughing at her. She shakes the spit balls loose from her clothes and presses her face against the cool window, determined not to cry.

Outside on a branch, two sparrows watch silently.

Impressum

Texte: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended to represent specific places or persons. Cover design and artwork by Janice Reynolds ©2009 Janice Reynolds This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. ISBN:
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 23.12.2009

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