Rayne says . . .
HaxOr! Spider! Get your own blogs and stop fighting in mine! I mean it.
19
SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 7 A.M.
BIRTHDAY GRRL!!!!
Yay! Today is my birthday!!!! How exciting!!!! Yes, I know I’m exclamation-pointing too much, but you would be, too, if it were your birthday!!!!
First Mom’s going to cook a birthday breakfast—and she’s promised to make real pancakes without any tofu, barley, or carrots in them. Extra unhealthy with whipped cream and strawberries.
In the afternoon, Spider’s coming over, as are various friends of Sunny’s. Mom’s going to order pizza and we Netflixed a bunch of DVDs. Of course, Sunny’s selection will probably have all Matthew McConaughey stuff. But I rented some classics. The original Dracula, starring Bela Lugosi for one. Can’t wait!
But what I’m most excited about is Dad. I can’t believe he’s actually coming. I haven’t seen him in so many years. I’m so proud of Sunny for getting up the courage to write to him and invite him. I would have never been able to do that.
I wonder what he’ll look like. If he’s started to gray at his temples. Will he look old? Or maybe just distinguished? I wonder what he’ll bring us for presents. I don’t even care if he does, actually. Just having him here is present enough.
Ooh, this is going to be the best day, ever! I sooo cannot wait for it to begin.
Oops, Mom’s calling me to breakfast and I haven’t even selected a b-day outfit yet. Gah! Better get a move on. . . .
POSTED BY RAYNE McDONALD @ 7 A.M.
THREE COMMENTS:
ButterfliQT says . . .
Happy birthday, sweetie! Enjoy the time with your dad.
DarkGothBoy says . . .
Happy Birthday 2 u
Happy Birthday 2 u
U look like a vampire
& U smell like one, too.
Spider says . . .
See you this afternoon. Can’t wait to meet the dadster.
20
SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 10 P.M.
NO CAKE
It’s ten o’clock. He’s still not here. Sunny and my mom have gone to bed. I’m sitting downstairs on the family computer, surrounded by leftover pizza, stupid presents I don’t want or need, and NO CAKE.
I hate him.
I HATE HIM.
I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HIM!!!!!
POSTED BY RAYNE McDONALD @ 10 P.M.
FOUR COMMENTS:
Anonymous says . . .
Oh, he didn’t show up? What a surprise. Poor Raynie. Now she’s really going to have daddy issues. Boo-hoo-hoo. The Goth freak suffers some more. Maybe you should go listen to Morrissey and slit your wrists.
Anonymous says . . .
Ha-ha! I could have predicted that.
Anonymous says . . .
Oh, the teenage angst. Makes me a little sick. Welcome to the real world, little one.
Anonymous says . . .
Maybe this will teach you to stop playing your little vampire games and face reality a bit, sweetheart.
21
SUNDAY, JUNE 10, 1 P.M.
My Dad’s a Loser and I Think He Should Die
Dear Diary,
I used to write a blog and post it on the Internet. But let me tell you, it’s not fun posting about your life when bad things happen and then have anonymous people post nasty, hurtful comments about you. So screw that. I’m going to stick with a good old-fashioned lock-and-key diary from now on.
Anyway, it’s Sunday afternoon. Not that it matters. I don’t think I would have gotten out of bed even if I did have school. I’m such a moron. I actually stayed up waiting for the guy ’til one A.M. As if he’d suddenly come through the door at one A.M., arms full of presents and cake, mouth full of apologies for being late.
Obviously that didn’t happen. Not that I really expected it would. Not really, anyway.
Did I mention I hate him?
Screw this. That was his last chance. I am never speaking to him again. Not in a thousand years. A million if I end up turning into a vamp and happen to live that long. He’s already dead to me. If I came upon his grave somewhere in my vampirish travels I’d spit on it.
I hate him, I hate him, I HATE HIM!!!!
I’m such an idiot. Why did I buy Sunny’s crap about him definitely coming? About how it has to be real ’cause there’s a plane ticket and a hotel? Last night I called the airport. The hotel. He just never showed up. Stood them up, just like he did us.
Bastard. Effing bastard.
I wish I could just jump on a plane and head straight to his house and confront him in person. Tell him what a lousy father he is and how he doesn’t deserve good daughters like Sunny and me. Or something. Anything. Just so I don’t have to feel so freaking helpless and screwed up and alone.
Great. Now I’m crying again and I’m so not a crying type of girl. This whole thing sucks. I don’t have time to be all depressed either. I’ve got Slayer Training scheduled at two, if you can believe it. Teifert called me this morning (Does the entire world know my cell number?), leaving a cryptic message about the time growing near. Which is fine by me, I suppose.
I’m more than ready to kick a little ass.
22
SUNDAY, JUNE 10, 5 P.M.
Stake That!
Back from Slayer Training. Definitely a mind-blowing experience, let me tell you.
At first everything seems pretty normal. Mr. Teifert and I meet up in the school gymnasium, down by the weight room. The place is deserted, which is probably a good thing. A student and a teacher, alone in a half-lit gym—probably a bit sketchy-looking to your average outsider. And it’s not like we can explain the whole slayer/instructor thing to the general public. They’re bound to make up a much seedier scenario—one that will get Teifert fired and me expelled. Not so good.