Chapter Text
Wednesday
Who in there right mind keeps a journal in this time?
Not me if it wasn’t for my mom. I bet if Manny could write, she would have given him one as well. But since the little shit still has got the brain the size of a penut, only me and the other little shit received one of these things.
Greg snitched on me about trying to show his dear diary to his dear crush, and now I’m stuck having to write in this damn notebook at least once a week.
In. Her. Dreams.
Don’t even care if she reads this shit.
Saturday
THIS MEANS NOTHING TO ME, REMEMBER THAT!
But now, aparently I need to start giving my best in school, which is something I thought I would never have to worry about, since they never cared much about me or my life in school. I thought they had given up on it after I started the band, like any other parents would.
But no, not anymore. Talking them out of it obviously didnt work.
I guess the last meeting at school shook them up a bit, since my grades are not exactly Harvard worthy
But since I’m pretty sure mom is reading this, then she better read this real carefully:
I AM NOT GOING TO COLLEGE
I already told you and dad about it, so lay off me!
Sunday
I guess they really arent reading this shit. Nothing changed about the whole tutoring thing
I saw them talking to a woman today at church, and she gave them a book, one who had “MATH” written in bold leters. The book is now sitting on top of my desk in my room.
I bet that woman is supposed to be my new “teacher”
Let’s see how long she lasts.
Thursday
Why am I even writing in this thing anymore?
Anyway
Turns out the tutor wasn’t that woman, but her son, Caleb Keller
I remember him from middle school, he used to have long hair, like, he would use it on a braid. I remember some people would call him “rapunzel”, others would call him “ragdoll” or “patchwork”
I was playing the drums when he arrived, mom tried to talk to me, but I just kept playing until her voice was gone from my room. But the guy was still there, sitting in MY bed, reading that fucking book as if it was the best thing ever
I glud gum on his hair back there, the next day he showed up to school with his hair cut so short he looked like an inmate, which I thought was a bit over the top, I didn’t even glue the gum that high
But do you think I stopped? No. I kept going, but he wouldnt leave and my wrist was getting tired. When I finally stoped, he just looked up from the book and went like “you done?”
From that moment I was trying to find excuses for him to leave, but he wouldnt budge. Then when I crashed on my bed, trying to ignore him, he just went like “if you want we could start with basic math, maybe your preschool brain will catch up easier”
Motherfucker.
He left without making me read one thing from that book, which I count as a win, but not mom.
She really doesn’t read any of this, surprisingly.
She came to me with those talks about my future, and school, and stuff like that
How long until she realizes I’m not into those things? I already got everything planned
Löded Diper, tour, fame, is way easier to understand than math
What else does she want?
Worst part is he didnt take that book. His coming back next week. I’ll have to start training my wrist endurance.
Sunday
I didn’t go to church today. Of all the days, I chose today to stay at home and listen to my cds in piece. Today was the day mom decided to talk to the sisters, there’s a bunch of them at church but our town isn’t even that big so where do they come from anyway?
The sisters said that the band that plays inside the church from time to time are in need of a new member, like, anyone who could play anything, even the triangle.
And mom had to open up her mouth about “how great I was at the talent show” and how I “play the drums since I was 3”.
2.5, but close
I thought it was an known fact that I played, I mean, with the talent show thing and the fact I have the name of my band written on my fucking van
She said they wanted to hear me play next sunday before the mass, they must be that desperate
Wednesday
I remembered now why I don’t like that Keller guy
He snitched on me once because Mrs. Underwood wanted to know who graffited “shakespeare sucks” on one of the recital books
Keller said it was me and I got suspended
The thing is, it wasn’t me
Pretty sure is spelled Shakespair anyway