Read Online The Rites and Wrongs of Janice Wills by Joanna Pearson - Free Book Online
Authors: Joanna Pearson
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her that I would be participating in Miss Livermush, she’d been the Escort Brainstorming Queen.
It was Friday morning, and my mom sometimes made oatmeal for my family on Fridays. When I got to the table, my brothers were already gobbling it down like small, hungry badgers. My mom was wearing her apron that read “I’m Da Boss,” dancing to the radio, and lip-synching into a big wooden spoon. My dad ate his oatmeal quietly, paging through the business section of the Charlotte paper.
“Hey, hey
,” sang my mom along with the song,
“hey, hey, Janice
! Oh, I have news for you! I talked to Robin Healey after Garden Club, and she said Chuck isn’t escorting anyone in the Miss Livermush Pageant. I happened to mention to her that you didn’t yet have an escort!”
I was stunned into momentary silence. Chuck Healey? Chuck?!
FACT:
Chuck still had braces and often wore his headgear to school. I once wore braces too, so I wouldn’t hold thisagainst him, except he always had Snickers bars coating his teeth as well. Chuck liked aliens, and he thought wearing his headgear more often made him look more extraterrestrial. He also started the Manga Club at high school and preferred to go by Daisuke, “his Japanese name.”
ADDITIONAL FACT:
I had a specific distaste for the Manga Club, since it was a direct rival to Science Club. We shared the same advisor and had an overlapping membership.
“Mom!” I cried. “No! I can’t go with Chuck!” “He’s such a sweet boy, Janice. And so intellectually curious.”
“He’s an anime freak. He makes all the teachers call him ‘Daisuke.’”
“Don’t be cruel, Janice,” my dad murmured, looking up at me above his reading glasses.
“He’s a questing intellect!” my mom insisted.
I groaned, lifting a great spoonful of oatmeal and then letting it plop back into the bowl. I thought about Jimmy Denton. If we were of the same caste in India, maybe our parents would arrange for us to be married. So much less hassle! No work on my part! Arranged marriage seemed to make a lot of sense. Just leave it up to good ol’ Mom and Dad. No humiliation, no rejection, no cute drama boys not knowing of your existence …
But you’d have to trust your parents’ taste, which I did not. Having seen my mom’s picks (and clearly, my mom would be the one doing the choosing), I most DEFINITELY would not leave a decision of such magnitude up to her.
“Well, there’s always Paul Hansen,” my mom said. “Y’all have known each other since you were babies, but you’ve refused that suggestion so many times…. I’m sticking with Chuck as my new nomination to become your boyfriend!”
“Paul has a girlfriend, and there’s no way on earth I’m going near Chuck Healey.”
“Janice loves Chuck Healey!” my brother Rufus sang.
“Janice and Chuck, ooh la la!” sang my other little brother, Simon.
“Just talk to him at school today, honey, and see what you two think,” my mom said.
I looked at the bowl of oatmeal and considered dropping my face into it.
The phone rang, and my mom answered. “For you, Jan,” she said, accidentally getting an oatmeal glob on the phone as she passed it over.
“Hello?”
“J, it’s Paul. Bagels on the way to school? I can pick you up in ten.”
“Yes, please! I’ll be outside.”
I hung up, jumped up from my chair (abandoning my uneaten oatmeal), and grabbed my bag. “I’m catching a ride with Paul, Mom. Bye! Bye, Dad!”
As I ran to get my history book from upstairs, I could still hear Rufus and Simon singing a nonsensical “Janice and Chuck” song they’d made up to the tune of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” My mom joined them, harmonizing,
“You’d better watch out, you’d better not cry, Janice and Chuck, Janice and Chuck
!”
It didn’t matter. I loved getting breakfast with Paul, even though it happened less often since I’d been demoted to second-place gal pal after The Girlfriend (who, being a musical theatre
It was Friday morning, and my mom sometimes made oatmeal for my family on Fridays. When I got to the table, my brothers were already gobbling it down like small, hungry badgers. My mom was wearing her apron that read “I’m Da Boss,” dancing to the radio, and lip-synching into a big wooden spoon. My dad ate his oatmeal quietly, paging through the business section of the Charlotte paper.
“Hey, hey
,” sang my mom along with the song,
“hey, hey, Janice
! Oh, I have news for you! I talked to Robin Healey after Garden Club, and she said Chuck isn’t escorting anyone in the Miss Livermush Pageant. I happened to mention to her that you didn’t yet have an escort!”
I was stunned into momentary silence. Chuck Healey? Chuck?!
FACT:
Chuck still had braces and often wore his headgear to school. I once wore braces too, so I wouldn’t hold thisagainst him, except he always had Snickers bars coating his teeth as well. Chuck liked aliens, and he thought wearing his headgear more often made him look more extraterrestrial. He also started the Manga Club at high school and preferred to go by Daisuke, “his Japanese name.”
ADDITIONAL FACT:
I had a specific distaste for the Manga Club, since it was a direct rival to Science Club. We shared the same advisor and had an overlapping membership.
“Mom!” I cried. “No! I can’t go with Chuck!” “He’s such a sweet boy, Janice. And so intellectually curious.”
“He’s an anime freak. He makes all the teachers call him ‘Daisuke.’”
“Don’t be cruel, Janice,” my dad murmured, looking up at me above his reading glasses.
“He’s a questing intellect!” my mom insisted.
I groaned, lifting a great spoonful of oatmeal and then letting it plop back into the bowl. I thought about Jimmy Denton. If we were of the same caste in India, maybe our parents would arrange for us to be married. So much less hassle! No work on my part! Arranged marriage seemed to make a lot of sense. Just leave it up to good ol’ Mom and Dad. No humiliation, no rejection, no cute drama boys not knowing of your existence …
But you’d have to trust your parents’ taste, which I did not. Having seen my mom’s picks (and clearly, my mom would be the one doing the choosing), I most DEFINITELY would not leave a decision of such magnitude up to her.
“Well, there’s always Paul Hansen,” my mom said. “Y’all have known each other since you were babies, but you’ve refused that suggestion so many times…. I’m sticking with Chuck as my new nomination to become your boyfriend!”
“Paul has a girlfriend, and there’s no way on earth I’m going near Chuck Healey.”
“Janice loves Chuck Healey!” my brother Rufus sang.
“Janice and Chuck, ooh la la!” sang my other little brother, Simon.
“Just talk to him at school today, honey, and see what you two think,” my mom said.
I looked at the bowl of oatmeal and considered dropping my face into it.
The phone rang, and my mom answered. “For you, Jan,” she said, accidentally getting an oatmeal glob on the phone as she passed it over.
“Hello?”
“J, it’s Paul. Bagels on the way to school? I can pick you up in ten.”
“Yes, please! I’ll be outside.”
I hung up, jumped up from my chair (abandoning my uneaten oatmeal), and grabbed my bag. “I’m catching a ride with Paul, Mom. Bye! Bye, Dad!”
As I ran to get my history book from upstairs, I could still hear Rufus and Simon singing a nonsensical “Janice and Chuck” song they’d made up to the tune of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” My mom joined them, harmonizing,
“You’d better watch out, you’d better not cry, Janice and Chuck, Janice and Chuck
!”
It didn’t matter. I loved getting breakfast with Paul, even though it happened less often since I’d been demoted to second-place gal pal after The Girlfriend (who, being a musical theatre
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