Excerpt of Feeling Sorry For Celia by Jaclyn Moriarty
(Page 1 of 6)
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Dear Ms. Clarry,
It has come to our attention that you are incredibly bad at being a teenager.
I mean, take a look at your bedroom.
You haven't got any posters on your wall. (Don't try to tell us that that picture counts. A kitten drowning in a strawberry milkshake? Designed by your mother as an ad for carpet cleaner? Give us a break.)
You have a paper chain made of old Christmas cards hanging from your curtain rod. The only makeup you have is banana flavored lip gloss and it's melting all over your Little Mermaid quilt cover. (Actually, we don't think that lip gloss counts as makeup at all.)
Not to hurt your feelings or anything, but you are an embarrassment to teenagerhood. Therefore, could you please climb into the refrigerator and wait very quietly until your teenage years end?
The Association of Teenagers
P.S. Also, you don't seem to understand how to get a snow tan. You look like a slice of watermelon.
!!!IMPORTANT!!!!! LOOK AT THIS NOTE!!!!
!!!ELIZABETH!!!! OVER HERE!!!! ON THE FRIDGE!!!!!
I HOPE YOU SAW THIS NOTE.
EAT THE OATMEAL IN THE BIG, SILVER SAUCEPAN ON THE STOVE. PUT SOME ALOE ON YOUR FACE.
DON'T BURN YOUR FACE LIKE THAT AGAIN. YOUR SKIN WILL ALL PEEL AWAY AND THERE WILL BE NOTHING LEFT BUT BONES AND BRAIN AND EYEBALLS.
IT IS VERY AND EXTREMELY COLD TODAY. WEAR SEVEN PAIRS OF STOCKINGS.
HAVE A NICE FIRST DAY BACK AT SCHOOL,
LOVE FROM YOUR THOUGHTFUL AND CONSIDERATE MOTHER.
Take it easy. I saw the note.
I didn't eat the oatmeal, I gave it to Lochie. I hate oatmeal. If you really cared about me, you would know that.
I am not wearing any stockings at all. It's not that cold. You have some kind of body temperature problem.
The really weird thing is that I didn't burn my face like this on purpose.
And I'm not using aloe because it's disgusting. Thank you for your nice warning about the bones and brains and eyeballs though.
WITH LOTS OF LOVE FROM YOUR DAUGHTER
Dear Ms. Clarry,
It is with great pleasure that we invite you to join our Society.
We have just found out about your holiday. It's so impressive! You had four assignments, an English essay, and a chapter of math to do. And you didn't do one single piece of homework!
Also, we have a feeling that you have a history test today. And you're trying to study now? On the bus? With the Brookfield boys climbing onto each other's shoulders to get to the emergency roof exit? And with Celia about to get on the bus at any moment? And you think that's going to make a difference!!!
That's really very amusing, Elizabeth. We like you for it.
You're perfect for our Society and we're very excited about having you join.
The Society of People Who Are Definitely Going to Fail High School
(and Most Probably Life as Well!)
A LETTER TO A COMPLETE AND UTTER STRANGER
Dear Complete and Utter Stranger,
The first thing that I have to say is that I hate oatmeal. I really hate it. And you know what? If you like oatmeal at all? I mean even the tiniest bit? I mean, say you were lost in the Himalayas, right, and you hadn't eaten anything except a Mars Bar for about seven years, right, and you're really cold and your fingers are all dropping off, right, and you look behind this rock, and there's this bowl of oatmeal?
Copyright (c) 2000 Jaclyn Moriarty. All rights reserved. Reproduced by the permission of the publisher, St Martin's Press. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.