My First Love and Other Disasters Read Online Free PDF

own—me and Jim. Oh, I don’t think I ever wanted anything so much in all my life!
    I have to make my parents understand how much it means to me. My mother is still saying, “We’ll see,” about the job, but I have to get a definite answer one way or the other soon because if I don’t Cynthia is going to get someone else. It just so happens that Steffi’s mother said she could go, so if I can’t I guess then maybe Cynthia would ask Steffi. I would hate that. I know that’s sour grapes andSteffi is really my best friend, but between you and me, I would hate Steffi if she took the job, which of course she would because, after all, why shouldn’t she? Naturally I would tell her that I didn’t mind, and then she would probably say, “Are you sure?” and I would say, “Absolutely,” but I would absolutely hate her and my parents and Nina, too, because she’d probably think it was hysterical that Steffi was getting my job.
    No matter how much I want it to be the best, I guess this summer could just possibly be the worst summer of my entire life, which is a pretty awful gift for somebody’s fifteenth birthday.
    Did I forget to mention that? I turn fifteen on Sunday, and that’s when I make my major, final, desperate, dying-gasp plea for the Fire Island job—at my birthday dinner.

Four
    I have nothing to wear.
    â€œI have nothing to wear!” I have to scream because I am buried four feet into the bottom of my closet hunting for some scrap of something to wear out tonight for the big dinner with my parents and the gnome, who unfortunately insisted on coming along even though she hates Italian food, especially since I believe I may have mentioned to her sometime or another that it all has squid and octopus in it—alive! She still practically gags at the thought of Italian food, but no, she wouldn’t stay home tonight. She knows this is when I plan to talk to my parents about the summer and she wants to make as much trouble as she can. This is going to be a tough fight, all uphill, and I have to look just right, kindof sweet/cute but also old/sophisticated, and I can’t find the right dress to wear. It’s got to be a good dress, but not my best in case I have to throw myself dramatically out of my chair and pound the dirty floor in a tantrum.
    Amazing, I just found a great skirt I haven’t seen since I accused my sister Nina of borrowing it and lending it to one of her friends who I was certain had lost it. So, big deal, she didn’t. She does enough other awful things, so she could have done this too. Actually if my closet were neater, it would have been hanging up, and then she’d have seen it and certainly would have borrowed it and lent it to her friend, and they’re so jerky they absolutely would have lost it so you see I wasn’t wrong in accusing her.
    â€œVictoria, come on, move it! The reservation’s for seven thirty.”
    My mother is standing in the doorway. I can hear her but I can’t see through all this junk.
    I push through all kinds of hanging things, past clumps of dusty shoes, and shopping bags stuffed with scraps of suede from when I was going to make a patchwork skirt, and wool from my crocheting projects, and old letters from summer camp. I’m a saver, sort of. Now I’m peeking through at my mother, who is getting more aggravated than she sounded.
    â€œI have nothing to wear” That wasn’t my mother.
    â€œPut on your navy blue dress.”
    â€œGross.”
    â€œOr the beige pants. I haven’t seen you wear those in ages.”
    â€œThey’re in the laundry.”
    â€œSince January?”
    â€œWell, they’re at the bottom.”
    â€œUgh.” That wasn’t me either.
    â€œNo jeans, please. This is a good restaurant.” And with that irrelevant information, she leaves the room.
    Now I want you to know that I’m not just being difficult.