Dork Diaries 5: Tales From a Not-So-Smart Miss Know-It-All Read online

  “Well, let’s see. There’re six open positions right now. Assistant fashion editor, sports, news . . . Hey, look at this! We need a photo layout artist. YOU’D be perfect for that!”

  “OMG!” I squealed. “That means we could spend a lot of time together! Er, I mean, time t-together . . . you know, w-working on those photo layout, um, thingies . . . ,” I stammered.

  “Now, THAT would be way cool!” Brandon brushed his bangs out of his eyes and gave me a crooked smile.

  I just HATED when he did that to me. I had a massive Roller-Coaster Syndrome attack right there in front of him. It was SO embarrassing!

  I lost total control and actually screamed,

  “WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

  But I just said it inside my head so no one else heard it but me.

  That’s when he kind of stared at me and I stared back at him. Then we both smiled.

  And after that I couldn’t help but stare at him, and of course he stared back at me. Then we both blushed.

  All of this staring, smiling, and blushing seemed to go on, like, FOREVER!

  BRANDON AND ME, STARING, SMILING, AND BLUSHING

  Brandon and I spent the rest of the lunch hour just hanging out and talking.

  He even showed me some of his photos he planned to enter into a national competition next month.

  And get this! We actually walked to bio together!

  I can’t wait to tell Chloe and Zoey how well everything went.

  Although working on the newspaper is going to be fun, I have to remember to stay focused on the real task.

  Shutting down MacKenzie!

  Hey! That girl started this war, but I’M going to FINISH it!

  !!

  TUESDAY, JANUARY 14

  Right now I’m SO frustrated I could just . . .

  SCREAM!!

  But all I can do is sit here in my geometry class totally lost (as usual), pretending that:

  1. I care about irregular quadrilaterals, and

  2. my life is NOT the vapid waste dump that it IS.

  About seven new people showed up for the newspaper meeting. A half dozen staff members came to answer questions and serve as mentors, including Brandon and MacKenzie.

  I really liked our journalism intern. Mainly because she was actually SANE (unlike our adviser). She started the meeting by saying, “Hi, everyone. I’d like to welcome our new members and thank you for coming today. My name is Lauren Walsh. I’m a senior at Westchester Country Day High School and a journalism intern. Mr. Zimmerman, our adviser, will be here in a few minutes. He requested that I have all the new people sit in the front, so let’s do that right now.”

  MacKenzie huffed and rolled her eyes at the prospect of having to give up her seat to a newbie. “This is SO lame! I’m NOT moving.”

  That girl is SUCH a drama queen. I was like, “Come on, MacKenzie. Just lose the attitude. Are you THAT attached to your desk? You’re acting like you’re about to put up matching curtains or something!”

  But I just said that inside my head so no one else heard it but me.

  Soon a middle-aged man in jeans and a wrinkled blazer shuffled in.

  He carried an empty jumbo-size coffee cup, and he had a messenger bag over his shoulder that was so full he left a trail of papers on the floor.

  His hair was messy, and the stubble on his face was so long it was about to grow into a hippie beard.

  He took a seat at his cluttered desk and just stared at us in disgust.

  It was like we were something unpleasant he wanted to scrape off the bottom of his shoe.

  Then he popped a few candies into his mouth from the Scooby-Doo PEZ dispenser sitting on his desk.

  After munching loudly on the candy for what seemed like forever, he finally spoke, his eyes still glued on the kids in the front row.

  “Lauren, WHO are these people?!”

  “These are the students interested in joining the newspaper, Mr. Zimmerman.”

  “And why are they sitting there staring at me?”

  “Actually, they’re seated in the front row, just like you requested,” Lauren answered.

  “Very interesting,” he said drily. “Let me ask you something, boys and girls.”

  He got up and paced the floor.

  “How many of you have NEVER worked for a newspaper before?”

  Everyone in the newbie row excitedly raised their hand, including me.

  “Okay. Then none of you have experience,” he said, lowering his voice to barely a whisper.

  The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

  “Well, today is your lucky day because I’m going to let you in on a little secret. You’re about to experience firsthand how the real world of journalism operates.”

  We all leaned forward in our seats, straining to hear the pearls of wisdom Zimmerman was about to bestow upon us.

  “Listen carefully, boys and girls, because I’m only going to say this once . . . . ”

  Okay! There was no question about it.

  Zimmerman was totally INSANE!

  The room broke into a panic.

  The girl with braces sitting next to me started to cry.

  Lauren looked startled.

  “Um, sir . . . ” She ran to him and whispered something in his ear.

  “What do you mean, ‘They’re only kids’?” Mr. Zimmerman snarked.

  I couldn’t hear what Lauren was saying, but I could tell he didn’t like it.

  “I can’t? Really?”

  Lauren shook her head.

  “I see.” Mr. Zimmerman sighed. “I’ll need another coffee to get through this.”

  Lauren scribbled his order in her notebook and rushed out the door.

  “Make it black,” he called after her. “My wife says I need to cut back on sugar.”

  Zimmerman popped another PEZ candy and continued pacing.

  “Listen up, kids. We have six openings,” he said, handing a sign-up sheet to the guy at the end of the row. “I expect you to eat, drink, and breathe journalism from this day forward, or you won’t survive in this business. MY reputation is on the line here. And I DON’T want it tarnished! Am I making myself clear?!”

  Although it was a yes-or-no question, all of us just stared at him blankly.

  We weren’t that afraid of working for the newspaper.

  But we were TERRIFIED of this unshaven LUNATIC rambling about “survival.”

  When I got the sign-up sheet, I held my breath and peeked at it. I was the fourth person to sign it, and the photo layout artist position was STILL available.

  I quickly scribbled in my name next to it.

  I had to restrain myself from breaking into my Snoopy “happy dance.”

  I passed the sheet to the girl with the braces.

  “I could tell you some stories about my days with the Wall Street Journal,” Mr. Zimmerman continued. “But I won’t. My wife says I need to let that go . . . and so does my therapist. Now, where is that sign-up sheet?” he asked, looking around the room nervously.

  “Right here, Mr. Zimmerman,” MacKenzie said, waving the page in the air. “I have it.”

  She sashayed to the front of the room and handed it to him.

  “Thank you, Miss Hollister. Both your dedication and teamwork are duly noted!”

  It was like MacKenzie had totally brainwashed the guy or something.

  She smiled and sashayed back to her seat.

  I just HATE it when MacKenzie sashays.

  Zimmerman quickly read over the list of names.

  “Hmm, I see one of you changed your mind about making this serious commitment. Good! I’d much rather you quit now than waste my time.”

  I tried not to stare at the girl with the braces. She looked like she was about to burst into tears again.

  “I have very high expectations for all of you. And just remember, it’s a jungle out there!”

  Zimmerman called up the newbies one by one and introduced them to the newspaper staff person they would be work
ing with.

  I waited anxiously for him to call my name.

  I was a little confused when Marcy, the girl with the braces, was assigned to work with MacKenzie as an assistant editor for fashion.

  Since she’d been in tears for most of the meeting, I had assumed she was the person who had quit.

  “Hi, I’m Marcy, and I just moved here last semester from Boise, Idaho! I can’t believe I’m actually going to be working with you, MacKenzie!” Marcy gushed.

  “And I can’t believe I’m actually going to be working with YOU!” MacKenzie said, scrunching up her nose like she smelled a funky foot odor.

  “I’m NOT a fashionista. But I did design and sew an entire wardrobe for my Barbie doll collection.” Marcy beamed proudly.

  “How quaint! For our first assignment, we’re going to tackle an emergency makeover. Fab-N-Flirty Fashions is having a big sale,” MacKenzie said as she scribbled madly on her notepad. “Let’s meet at the mall immediately after school today.”

  “OMG! That sounds so exciting! WHO’S getting the makeover?” Marcy asked.

  I felt really sorry for that poor girl.

  Marcy hadn’t quit just yet. But since she was stuck with MacKenzie, it was only a matter of time.

  I gave her twenty-four hours. Or less.

  I turned my attention back to Mr. Zimmerman.

  “And last but not least, we’re going to pair the photo layout artist position with . . . let’s see . . . ”

  Brandon! Brandon! Brandon! I screamed silently.

  “Okay, how about . . . BRANDON.”

  YES!! I turned around and flashed Brandon a big smile. I could not believe we were actually going to be working together.

  “Brandon, you’ll be mentoring our new photo layout artist . . . ”

  ME! I whispered dreamily to myself.

  “ . . . BRITNEY CHUNG,” Zimmerman announced.

  I felt like I had just been punched in the stomach.

  Britney, a CCP girl, scrambled out of her seat and immediately started making goo-goo eyes at Brandon.

  There had to be some kind of MISTAKE! I had signed up for PHOTO LAYOUT ARTIST!

  And Brandon was supposed to be MY MENTOR!!

  I was not at all surprised to see MacKenzie staring at me from across the room with this little smirk on her face. I wanted to walk over and slap it right off her—

  OMG! I’ve been SO distracted writing about that crazy newspaper meeting that I haven’t heard a single word my geometry teacher has said . . . .

  Wait a minute . . . !! Did he just tell us to clear our desks?!!!

  Because we’re having a POP QUIZ?!!!!!

  RIGHT NOW?! NOOOOOOO!!!

  “What makes up an IRREGULAR quadrilateral?”

  Um, how about CONSTIPATED quadrangles?!

  Heck if I know!

  I’m so going to fail this quiz.

  Then my parents are going to do something completely crazy and irrational like take away my cell phone.

  Somebody PLEASE help me . . . .

  !!

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15

  OMG! That meeting was a disaster!

  In just thirty minutes my newspaper adventure had gone from a dream come true to a total nightmare.

  “Okay, now that everyone’s been assigned a partner, any questions?” Zimmerman asked as the room started to buzz with excitement.

  “Uh, Mr. Zimmerman . . . ”

  I tried talking a little louder.

  “Excuse me, but I think you forgot m—”

  “Just work closely with your mentor. And most important, DON’T SCREW UP MY NEWSPAPER!” he yelled.

  In spite of the fact that I was waving my hand frantically, he looked right past me like I was invisible.

  Then he started muttering . . . .

  Then Zimmerman walked to his desk, collapsed in his chair, and started munching on candy again.

  Everyone else was busy working. But I just sat there like an idiot with no clue what to do.

  OPTION 1:

  Go up to Zimmerman and tell him he forgot to assign me a position.

  Even though I was afraid he’d lose his temper and munch on my head like one of those candy thingies for disturbing him.

  OPTION 2:

  Stay seated, smile mindlessly, and fiddle with my pen until the hour was over.

  Then find a secluded place and CRY like a BABY!

  OPTION 3:

  Pull a Zimmerman. Climb on top of my desk and yell at the top of my lungs like a maniac . . . .

  However, since I’m actually a very shy person, I was leaning more toward Option 2.

  I was trying to blink back tears of frustration when Brandon came over.

  He gave me a warm smile.

  “Welcome to the wacky world of newspaper! So, how’s it going? I take it you decided against the photo layout artist position? I’m sure you’ll like being an assistant editor.”

  “Um, actually, I didn’t get an assignment at all. I think Zimmerman forgot me or something.” The lump in my throat was so big, I could barely speak.

  I guess that’s when Brandon finally realized something was wrong.

  Because suddenly his smile vanished and he kind of stared at me with this really concerned look on his face.

  “I guess I should have warned you about Zimmerman before you signed up. He’s not so bad once you get to know him. But sometimes he can be a little . . . ”

  Brandon made a face and glanced at our teacher to see if he was listening. But Mr. Zimmerman was oblivious, busily reloading his Scooby-Doo candy dispenser.

  “ . . . well, scatterbrained!”

  Brandon’s mouth whispered “scatterbrained,” but his eyes screamed “PSYCHOPATH!!”

  “You should let him know you haven’t been assigned anything yet. If you don’t feel comfortable, I’ll tell him for you. I know he can be a little intimidating . . . . ”

  “BRANDON! BRANDON!” Across the room his partner, Britney, was screaming like her hair was on fire. MacKenzie stood close by, whispering to her.

  But Brandon totally ignored her.

  “Looks like your mentee is in desperate need of some, um . . . mentoring,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Listen, I really appreciate your offer, but I can talk to Zimmerman myself.”

  The last thing I wanted was for Brandon to know THINK I was a wimp and too scared to go up and talk to the teacher.

  I mean, how juvenile would THAT be?! Especially since Brandon and MacKenzie actually liked the guy.

  “Well, let me know if I can help out, okay?”

  He hesitated for a moment, hoping I would change my mind. Then he shrugged and walked back over to his partner.

  After giving myself a ten-minute pep talk, I finally gathered enough courage to approach Zimmerman’s desk.

  I stood in front of him for what seemed like forever, waiting for him to notice me.

  But he just typed away on his laptop without looking up.

  I cleared my throat and plastered a fake smile on my face. “HI, THERE!” I croaked. My voice came out way louder than I anticipated.

  Mr. Zimmerman cringed like I had just shattered a glass, then looked up at me.

  “How can I help you, Sparky?” he said sarcastically.

  Now that I had his attention, I totally lost my nerve. I opened my mouth but no sound came out.

  “WHAT?!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes. Then he whispered, “So . . . are you trying to communicate with me telepathically?”

  That’s when I totally panicked. “Um . . . can I go to the bathroom?” I blurted out.

  “Go ahead.” He frowned. “You don’t need my permission for that. Now SHOO! I’m very busy!”

  “Um, okay, thanks . . . . ”

  As I turned to run from the room, I just barely missed stumbling over the wastebasket.

  “Excuse me!” I said.

  I don’t normally make it a habit to talk to inanimate objects.

  But right then I was a nervous wreck!

 
That’s when I noticed the sign-up sheet inside.

  And what looked like a crossed-out name.

  I peeked at Zimmerman and wondered if he’d have a hissy fit if he saw me rummaging through his trash.

  But he had resumed typing and didn’t seem to notice I was still standing there.

  Finally my curiosity got the best of me. I bent down and grabbed the sign-up sheet . . . .

  I took one look at it and gasped. Suddenly everything made sense!

  SOMEONE HAD CROSSED MY NAME OFF THE SIGN-UP SHEET!!

  And there was no doubt WHATSOEVER in my mind that the dirty, stinkin’ RAT was:

  MACKENZIE !!

  So that’s why I wasn’t assigned a partner!

  All I had to do now was explain to Zimmerman that my name had somehow gotten “accidentally” crossed off and then ask BEG him for a position.

  I’d take just about anything.

  Even . . . fashion.

  Mostly because I needed to keep an eye on MacKenzie. Really bad!

  I smoothed out the sheet and walked back to Zimmerman’s desk.

  “Um, excuse me, I really hate to bother you again, Mr. Zimmerman, but something’s wrong—”

  “I TOTALLY agree with you!” he said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

  “You do?” I was starting to think maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all.

  “YOU’RE supposed to be in the BATHROOM. But for some strange reason you’re STILL standing here PESTERING me. That’s just . . . WRONG!”

  “Well, actually, I was on my way to the girls’ bathroom. But then I saw our sign-up sheet and—”

  “Really?! How’d our sign-up sheet get in the girls’ bathroom?”

  “Um, actually, it wasn’t IN the—”

  “Listen! I’m REALLY busy right now! I suggest you go back to the bathroom and just try to ignore that sign-up sheet in there. It probably won’t hurt you. Okay!”

  “I’m sorry for making all of this is so confusing. But somehow my name got crossed off of the sign-up sheet. Everyone got assigned a position on the newspaper staff except—”

  Suddenly Zimmerman’s cell phone rang.

  He answered it and held up a finger to shush me.

  I could NOT believe that man actually had the nerve to SHUSH me right to my face like that! I was SO mad I wanted to just, um . . . SPIT!!