Too Good to Be True

© 2014 by Laurie Friedman

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Friedman, Laurie B., 1964–

Too good to be true / by Laurie Friedman.

pages cm. — (The mostly miserable life of April Sinclair ; #2)

Summary: Diaries entries record eighth-grader April's attempts to fix
her friendships new and old.

ISBN 978–1–4677–0926–2 (trade hard cover : alk. paper)

ISBN 978–1–4677–2422–7 (eBook)

[1. Friendship—Fiction. 2. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction.
3. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 4. Diaries—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F89773To 2014
[Fic]—dc23

2013026434

Manufactured in the United States of America

1 – BP – 7/15/14

eISBN: 978-1-4677-2422-7 (pdf)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-4034-0 (ePub)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-4033-3 (mobi)

—Taylor Swift

Today was an unfortunate mix of surprisingly good and the kind of bad you never quite get over. I'd start with the good, but I'm so traumatized by tonight's horrible ending that it's all I can think about. It was the most embarrassing moment to date of my thirteen-year-almost-four-month existence, which is saying a lot, because I've suffered a lot of embarrassing moments. But they all pale in comparison to what happened tonight. I'll get to the beginning of the story in a minute, but the main point is that my best friend heard, smelled, and practically saw my dad take a dump.

It was even more horrible than it sounds.

The whole thing started this afternoon when my mom called Brynn's mom to see if the Stephenses wanted to go with us to try the Crawfish Cafe. It's not that often that anything opens in Faraway, Alabama, especially a new restaurant, so everyone was excited to try it. Particularly Dad. Actually, he was more than excited. In the car on the way to the restaurant, he was literally blabbering the whole way about the restaurant business and how hard it is to get it right, and how the Crawfish Cafe originated in New Orleans and is a big hit there. “I'm anxious to see what they did with the place,” he told Mom.

May and June and I were in the backseat. May leaned forward. “Dad, why do you care what they did with the place?”

“Yeah, Dad, why do you care what they did with the place?” repeated June.

Dad smiled into the rearview mirror and shrugged like he suddenly didn't want to seem so anxious. “They're our competition now,” he explained. “There are a limited number of dining-out dollars in Faraway, and I want to make
sure I know what the Love Doctor Diner is up against.”

Now that Dad owns a restaurant, I get why he thought it was important to check out the competition. What I didn't get was how weird he acted once we got to the Crawfish Cafe.

The minute we sat down, Dad started ordering food like he had a serious case of the munchies. “We'll have the crawfish,” Dad said with a smile. He ordered it every way they offered it. Boiled. Sautéed. Étouffée. Gumbo. Beignets.

Mom gave Dad her I-don't-think-that's-such-a-good-idea look, but Dad kept going.

“We'd also like the fried shrimp, the crab bisque, and the lobster pie,” he told the waitress.

She raised an eyebrow. Brynn's parents looked at each other. “We can come back, Rex,” Mom said gently.

But Dad was a train that couldn't be stopped. He ordered sides and salads like the end of the world was near.

When the food came, Dad was even more jacked than when he ordered. He was eating everything, and he wasn't even talking to anyone
at the table. Food was going in. Crumbs were flying out. People at the next table were staring at him.

I could tell Mom thought he should slow down. “Owning and managing the diner can be stressful,” she said to the Stephenses like that justified his behavior. But I knew what she was really trying to do was send Dad a message to STOP EATING LIKE A PIG! Even my little sisters thought he was over the top.

“Dad, you better slow down or you're going to get a tummy ache,” said May.

“Yeah, Dad, you're going to get a tummy ache,” repeated June. I don't like how, at age seven, June continues to repeat everything she hears, but she was justified in saying what she did.

I decided to ignore the human shovel at our table and started talking to Brynn about eighth grade, which starts next Monday. At some point while Brynn and I were discussing what shoes we wanted to get, Dad left the table. I didn't know where he was going. I was just relieved he was taking his hyper energy with him. I think
everyone else was too.

“April, how do you feel about starting eighth grade?” Brynn's dad asked me. Brynn and I have been best friends since kindergarten, and Mr. Stephens always calls me his other daughter.

“It has to be better than being in sixth or seventh grade,” I told him. He laughed like he understood where I was coming from.

Then Brynn said she's excited for this year because she's the editor of the school paper and can't wait to “speak the journalistic truth,” and then our moms jumped in, saying that they can't believe we're in our last year of middle school. Brynn's mom actually got teary-eyed as they were talking. That's when Brynn pinched my leg, which I knew was my cue for us to get up and go to the bathroom.

It's also when my nightmare began.

Brynn and I left the table and went down the hall to the door that had a big sign that said Crawladies. Right when we walked in, there was a terrible smell. I actually thought I might pass out. I pointed to the stall where it was coming from, and Brynn waved her hand in front of her
nose, trying to clear her airspace.

Then we heard a sound—more like a string of sounds. A grunt, a few groans, and then . . . I don't even want to write this. The person in the stall had terrible diarrhea, and Brynn and I heard the whole thing. I looked at Brynn. Even though the bathroom smelled disgusting, it was pretty funny listening to what was coming out of the stall. Brynn put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. I tried to cover my mouth too, but I started laughing. I couldn't stop myself. “We should go,” I tried to say quietly to Brynn, but I guess it wasn't quiet enough because the other person in the bathroom heard me.

“April?” said a voice from inside the stall. I froze. It was bad enough that the voice coming from inside the stall said my name. But it was even worse that the voice seemed to be coming from a man. A man I know!

Brynn's jaw dropped. “April, is that your dad?” she said.

And the next thing I knew, he walked out of the stall and there we all were. Me, my best friend, and my dad who'd just had a serious case
of the runs. He seemed confused. “What are you girls doing in the men's room?” he asked.

Brynn was speechless. I wasn't! “Dad, this is the ladies room! The sign on the door said Crawladies.”

My dad actually nodded and sort of half-smiled like that explanation made sense. “I guess I was in too big of a hurry. I thought the sign said Crawdaddies. I'm sorry, girls,” he said. Then he turned on the faucet to wash his hands, like that apology could make up for what just happened.

But here's a fact: there's nothing he could have done (or can ever do) that could make up for what happened in the ladies room tonight!

I mean, in what world (except for mine) does your dad eat too much, crap his brains out in front of your best friend, and then act like it was no big deal? Shouldn't a responsible father of three know NOT to do that sort of thing? And who eats so much so fast that they don't even take the time to read a simple sign? I was mortified and horribly grossed out and still am. Brynn was too. She's my best friend, but even a friend who has been around as long as she has shouldn't
have to experience what she did. I just have two words to describe tonight: IT STUNK!

I was so upset that I forgot to write about the surprisingly good thing that happened today: Billy and I had our one-month anniversary! Billy texted me early this morning (at 6:04
A.M
. to be exact) to say happy anniversary. What he actually texted was “Hey BFGF, guess who I thought of as soon as I woke up? Can't believe it has been a month.”

If most boys texted something like that, especially at 6:04 in the morning, it would seem kind of stalkerish. But it didn't seem creepy at all when it came from Billy. It seemed like he meant it, and that's what's so cool about Billy. He's fine saying exactly what he feels. Like calling me his Best Friend Girl Friend and saying, “Who wouldn't want both rolled into one?” I love that he thinks about me that way. I also love how we celebrated our anniversary.