Beatrice spent her afternoons in the field behind her family’s home. Under a giant weeping willow she had created the most beautiful little hideaway for herself. Using odds and ends and some colorful sari fabric she had bought at a garage sale, Beatrice had fashioned what interior decorators would call a “boho-chic retreat.”
The day was sunny and warm, so Beatrice knotted the fabric doors to the tree so that the sunshine could pour in. She curled up like a cat, cozy on her patchwork pillows and opened her journal.
May 16th 2008
School was lame – as usual. I hate everyone except Denise. Not that Denise is THAT great, but she’s ok. We ate lunch together – as usual. But somehow we ended up sitting next to Jessica and her gang of wannabes. I would rather choke on a piece of steak than be friends with Jessica. Denise and I did our “thing” where we pretend to have a conversation but secretly we’re really eavesdropping. All the girls talked about was the school dance and their dresses – lame! Again, I would rather die – like someone could knife me in the gut – than be one of those girls. They are an embarrassment to the entire race of females.
Beatrice paused and took a few bites of her bear paw cookie and sucked orange juice from a glass with a red licorice straw. A ball of fur whizzed by the hideaway door – it was Len, her family’s cat. Like most cats, Len did his own thing. At times he would curl up next to Beatrice on her bed and purr like the cats do in commercials. But more often than not he seemed to look at Beatrice and her family with disdain, as if he were King and they were his lowly servants. Beatrice resumed writing.
Denise and I are OBVIOUSLY not going to the stupid dance – as if! Denise is coming over here and we’re going to watch The Stepford Wives, it’s some creepy 1970’s movie where the men turn their wives into robot ladies. Can you believe that?! Men are lame. They think they know everything and that they’re better than us. But they better watch out! Girls like me – and Denise – we’re not going to put up with their CRAP! Mom makes dinner for dad every single night, he NEVER cooks! There is no way that I’m cooking for my husband every night! He can go to California Pizza Kitchen and pick up dinner twice a week. Then HE will cook dinner twice a week and I will cook dinner twice a week. That leaves one night for us to go out to a fancy restaurant for a fancy dinner. That’s how it’s going to go down, otherwise I am NOT getting married.
Beatrice put down her journal and stretched her long, stick-like legs onto the grass. She tried to imagine being a robot lady. Just then Len strolled in, looked at her like she was useless and strolled back out. We really need to get a dog, thought Beatrice.