Meg Cabot - Every Boy’s Got One

I hope.

In the meantime, I’ve just got to STAY AWAY from him and his pheromones or whatever it is that makes me keep thinking about what it would be like to sleep with Cal Langdon.

Tomorrow I’ll make sure to wear my Adidas, too. No guy looks at your feet when you’re in your Adidas.

God, how am I supposed to get to sleep NOW?

PDA of Cal Langdon

I have GOT to stay away from prosecco. It makes me do the most damnable things, things I’d never do were I in my right mind… feed perfectly fine tuna to a lot of stray cats, for example. Or admire the way the moonlight brings out the highlights in a certain cartoonist’s hair…

Who drank all the scotch?

___________________________________________

To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>

Fr: Darrin Caputo <darrin.caputo@caputographics.com>

Re: Your mother

ARE YOU SERIOUS???? HOLLY AND MARK ARE ELOPING???? In Castelfidardo?

Well, that’s kind of a weird place to do it (have you seen the whang on that naked accordionist statue in the town square? That dude is HUNG), but I couldn’t be happier for them. OF COURSE we’ll do something to throw Mom off the scent. I don’t know what, exactly…. Bobby’s going to think something up,he’s better at this kind of thing than I am.

Oh my God, that is just the BEST NEWS. NO ONE deserves a romantic wedding in Italy more than my sister Holly. Give her a big kiss from me, and don’t worry, I won’t tell a SOUL!!!!

Love,

D

___________________________________________

To: Jane Harris <jane@wondercat.com>

Fr: Claire Harris <charris2004@freemail.com>

Re: Holly’s mother

Really, Jane, you don’t have to SHOUT at me. That’s what they call it when you write an email in capital letters, you know. SHOUTING. And it’s very rude.

I didn’t mean to say anything to Marie. Obviously. It just slipped out. You should be a little more understanding, you know. I’m under a lot of stress these days over at the Salvation Army, where I’ve been volunteering. The past three Saturdays in the row I’ve signed up to work in the thrift shop, and each and every time they’ve put me in the back, ironing the donated baby clothes! I know I’m very good with an iron, but can’t they at least once let me work the cash register? Or help the poor people find the right clothes for their body type?

But no. “Oh, look, here comes Claire. Get out the ironing board.”

I am seriously considering quitting and going over to Good Will. Marcy Clark told me they don’t make anybody iron ANYTHING over there.

Plus your dad touched a mango yesterday, and you know how allergic he is. I WARNED him there was a mango in the fruit bowl. I was going to use it in the fruit salad I’m bringing to the gourmet potluck at Helen Fogarty’s this weekend.

But Dad had to go and cut it up, thinking it was a papaya, and now he’s got hives all over his hands and arms. I’ve been putting calamine lotion on them, but I think we’re going to have to take another trip over to the Promptcare for some prednisone….

So don’t be so snappy with me, young lady. I have a lot going on.

I don’t know what Marie’s problem is, anyway. At least her daughter’s got a man who wants to marry her. All MY daughter has is a development deal with the Cartoon Network. And while Daddy and I are very proud of you, sweetie, you can’t exactly honeymoon with a development deal, now, can you? Or gaze into a development deal’s sweet angelic eyes while you’re changing its diaper.

So cut your mother some slack.

Love,

Mom

Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

Okay. Okay. Everything is going to be all right. I can figure this out. I can totally figure this out—

No, I can’t. This is a disaster. A total and complete disaster.

What am I going to do????

___________________________________________

To: Listserv <Wundercat@wundercatlives.com>

Fr: Peter Schumacher <webmaster@wundercatlives.com>

Re: JANE HARRIS

Good morning fellow lovers of Wundercat! There is BIG NEWS today about JANE HARRIS! Her friends who will be getting the marriage both eat the bad oysters last night, and this morning are sick as dogs! YES! They cannot get up out of the beds!

And this is bad because they are supposed to get the form from the Consulate of the US today, so they can have the marriage tomorrow!

But when I drove by the villa this morning on my motorino, to bring JANE HARRIS fresh brotchen, she is very upset, and says, “Ask your grandmother what can be done.” So I get my grandmother, and she comes to the villa and says that nothing can be done from eating the bad oyster, they will have to wait until it has passed through.

Which, if it does not do soon, there will be no marriage tomorrow!

So this is BAD NEWS for JANE HARRIS.

I will keep you informed as news continues! This is Peter Schumacher, #1 Fan Of Wundercat!

Wundercat Lives—4eva!

Peter

Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

Oysters. They just HAD to have the oysters.

I warned them. They can’t say I didn’t warn them. Who eats raw shellfish in a foreign country, I ask you? Who? This isn’t Japan. Italy is not known for its raw seafood. What were they THINKING?

Poor Mark. I guess that’s what I heard him throwing up last night. And he’s STILL throwing it up. He can barely move from the bed.

And Holly… my God, when I knocked on their bedroom door to see why they weren’t up yet for our drive to Rome, and Holly answered, she looked like… well, the undead. She hasn’t looked this bad since that Fourth of July we invented the drink with the watermelon balls and vodka (Rockets’ Red Glare).

“I don’t think there’s going to be any wedding,” she said. And then had to run to the bathroom.

What could I do but follow her? It’s not like I haven’t held her hair for her while she barfed plenty of times before—Rockets’ Red Glare in particular.

“Holly,” I said, as gently as I could, when she’d sunk back down onto the bathroom tiles in exhaustion. “You guys HAVE to make it to Rome today. You know tomorrow’s the only day the mayor said he could fit your wedding into the schedule.”

Which turned out not to be the right thing to say, since Holly promptly started to cry.

“I know!” she wailed. “But what can we do? We wouldn’t last five minutes in the car. We’d have to pull over every thirty seconds to throw up. Oh, God, Janie. It’s over. We’re not getting married. Not now, anyway. Not in Italy. And the way everything seems to be going against us… maybe not ever. Maybe my mother is right. Maybe HIS mother is right. Maybe we should just forget it. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

I know! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Not meant to be? Holly, I know you don’t feel well, but are you NUTS? You can’t just forget it. You guys HAVE to get married. And you have to get married here, in Italy.”

She just looked at me through miserable, swollen eyes. “Why?”

“Because I already told Darrin!” was what I ALMOST said. I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to have told anyone, though, and at the last possible second changed it to, “Because it’s what you’ve always wanted to do. You’ve been planning this forever. And Mark wants it, too, I know it. More than anything. You can’t just give up because of a little food poisoning!”

To which she responded by barfing some more.

I got her back to bed, somehow. Then I found Peter outside with more of those breakfast rolls, and asked him to get his grandmother. Frau Schumacher came over, looking very concerned, and went in to see the stricken couple. Her expression, when she came out of the room again, was grave.

“No good,” she said to me. “Zey vill not make the drive to Roma and back today. Tomorrow, yes. But not today.”

“But it HAS to be today,” I cried. “There’s no other time! The mayor said Wednesday was the only day… and we leave Friday anyway.”

But I know Frau Schumacher is right. She’s downstairs making some hot broth for Mark and Holly to choke down—it doesn’t matter if the lights go out right now, since it’s daytime. A beautiful day, as a matter of fact. The sun is beaming down, and the pool is sparkling, and the breeze is causing the palm fronds to sway gently….

Damn it! Why did they eat those oysters?

And why does this country have to be so BACKWARD??? If a person wants to get married here, and has all the right forms from back in the US, why CAN’T she??? Why do they have to send her all over creation for MORE forms??? Is it some kind of test to see how dedicated they are to the idea of being married? I mean, it’s just a FORM,anybody can get a form—

Holy crap.

Anybodycan get a form.

PDA of Cal Langdon

Honest to God, I don’t know how this happened. Last thing I knew, I was sleeping blissfully.