My boobs found me in September of sixth grade. And even though all the girls in my class were amazed by my overnight C cups (yeah, can you imagine?) the boys (read asSlate Marshall and Drake Fischer) labeled mefat.
And with the sudden growth of the aforementioned ‘boobage,’ my sixth grade year in school became renamed “The Worst Year EVER,”
Sixth Grade,The Worst Year Ever
By Charlotte Stone
Chapter 1: Colossal FAT Knockers
Chapter 2: Slate and Drake
Chapter 3: The Terrible Split
Chapter 4: Did I Just Poop My Pants?
Need I go on?
Okay, fine. I’ll give you a little more, but I’ll hate you for it.
In the middle of September, our teacher Ms. Spittsman (aka: Spitball), announced to our class that our sixth grade performance would be a stage play ofThe SuessificationofRomeo and Juliet. Okay, so I had a bit of a false start of the year, becauseRomeo and Julietwas one of my favorite stories.That month, anyway. I say a false start, because I thought since we were doing a play on one of my favorite stories, the year was going to be amazing.
Fat chance.
I was cast as Juliet, and Slate was Romeo! For the first week of practice after school, I walked around holding one of the school’s metal garbage cans in case I needed to vomit when he touched me.
After three weeks of practice, during our dress rehearsal, in front of my entire class, Slate snapped my bra. Not the back strap, but the front one! Yes, in front ofeveryone,he reached his dirty, creepy hands up and touched between my newly-developedsecrets,that I had been trying tohide,and hooked his fingers around the little space between the cups andsnapped. Then he said, right into one of the microphones, “Oh, my God, Charlotte has colossal, fat knockers!”
Everyone, but Jase and Joey, laughed.
This crap still gives me nightmares.
After that, all the boys in the class called me, “Fatty Knocker,” I thought about all the ways I could kill Slate Marshall without ever getting caught, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I planned on asking Jase. I knew he'd help me. He’d probably chopped up a few kids before.
Anyway, the night after the dress rehearsal, Joey, Jase, and I were in the tree house playing with my Ouija board. It was our new obsession: trying to contact the dead. And I know it’s completely my fault. I had just finished reading this scary book (Joey's new favorite genre was scary stories and horror…WOOOOOO!) calledTheGhost of the Isherwoodsby Carol Beach York, and we were OBSESSED. It petrified me in such agood waythat I read it out loud to Jase and Joey, who then became just as, or maybe slightly more, obsessed with talking to the dead as me. So, we sat in the tree house every afternoon until sunset, and tried to contact the people who had passed on.
We’d been trying an entire week before the dreaded dress-rehearsal-fat-knocker day, and I was in such a horrible mood that I decided to get a little creative. Okay, so maybe I’d been planning it all week long, but whatever. Jase and Joey watched me carefully as I ripped the little fuzzy foam pieces from the plastic planchette that you push around the board to communicate with the ghosts. From out of my pocket, I pulled these tiny little magnets I had from one of my craft kits.You know the one, the make your own refrigerator magnet kit; my father’s secretary bought it for me.Again, she still thought I was like, five.
I stuffed the little magnets into the three legs of the planchette, and when I felt they were in securely enough, I put it down on the game board.
“What are you doing?” Joey asked, hovering over me.
“I’m making this stupid game more fun.”
“Wait, do magnets attract the ghosts?” Joey asked excitedly.
Jase’s eyes narrowed, watching me. I loved those guys right then, because they were the only ones that hadn’t said anything about my colossal fat knockers. They didn’t even notice them. They were only concerned with how I would find a better way to talk to dead people.
I placed the Ouija board on my crisscrossed legs, and both boys moved in closer to me, our knees touching. I reached my right hand into my back pocket and grabbed the last and biggest magnet, but I didn’t let either of them see it. Then, with it closed tightly in my fist, I placed my hands under the board.
“Okay, I just want to try something,” I said seriously, looking them both in the eyes. “Just keep your hands on the edge of the board and don’t touch the planchette. Just try to concentrate on talking to someone, okay?”
“Okay,” they both said in stereo.
“Spirits of the afterlife. Is there anyone here in the tree house with us?” I whispered all spooky-like. Then, I pulled both my lips between my teeth so I wouldn’t bust out laughing, because I knew the next thing to happen was going to be written about in the history book of our friendship.
Under the Ouija board, I gently touched the bigger magnet I held in my hand to the bottom of the board right beneath where the planchette stood. Then, I slowly slid the magnet up the board to the word, “yes,” The planchette moved along, attracted to the magnet that was unseen, and it looked like it had answered us,all by itself.
Jase was the first one up, flipping the board off his knees and trying to get up and scoot away so fast that he fell right on his butt. Joey screamed like a girl.
