J.A. Buckle - Half My Facebook Friends Are Ferrets

To Sophie and Jasmine, for being inspirational

Today I have to do a presentation at school. It counts toward my final English grade, so I feel like I should make an effort. Mrs. Barber, our English teacher, refuses to say just how much it counts. This makes me kind of suspicious. I wouldnt be surprised if its less than half a percent.

At least my presentation will be interesting. So far we have had to sit through Nail Art Through the Ages, Lady Gaga: Style Queen, and Eating for a Healthy Complexion. Im still wondering if I made the right choice, though. I had three ideas originally:

1. Ferrets: Their Role in Modern Society
2. The Major Pentatonic Scale and Its Use in Improvising Riffs
3. The Satanic Roots of Death Metal

I decided to go with the last one, feeling it had the edge excitement-wise, but now I wonder if it might be a little too exciting, especially for Mrs. Barber, whos coming up on retirement age and rumored to have heart trouble.

Who is up next? says Mrs. Barber, consulting her list. Ah yes, Joshua. Come on up, dear.

Mrs. Barber summons me to the front of the room, and I suddenly notice the St. Christopher pendant hanging around her neck. My PowerPoint has pictures of church burnings!

To calm my nerves, I take a few deep breaths and remember Ollies advice to imagine everyone in the room naked.

Unfortunately, Charlotte Anderson is in the front row, and imagining her naked sets off a stirring below. This would be fine if my jeans werent so tight, but Mom refuses to buy new ones due to our financial difficulties.

Do you have a PowerPoint? Mrs. Barber asks.

Oh! Oh yes, um. Yes, I do, I admit.

Excellent, she says. Some nice slides for us to look at.

Um... sort of... not really.

Mrs. Barber looks uncertain. What exactly is your presentation on, dear?

Fantastic presentation, says Ollie on the way home. Especially that part where you showed the slide of the demon with three buttholes and Mrs. Barber had the panic attack.

Thank you, Ollie, I say. Damn! I knew I shouldve done the one on ferrets.

Dont worry, Ollie goes on. Mrs. Barber will be okay; a quick visit to the hospital will probably do her good.

I say goodbye to Ollie at the corner by his house and wander home. Thankfully, no one is there to ask how the nightmare presentation went.

I go to my bedroom, say hi to Ozzy, my ferret, and reach under the bed for the giant leather-bound notebook Mom gave me. Yeah, I know some teenagers get PlayStations for Christmas. I get a notebook.

When she gave it to me, Mom tried to talk up the present by saying, It has two hundred pages of extra high quality paper!

Amazing, I said.

So you can write on both sides without the ink showing through.

Awesome, Mom. Really awesome.

But the important thing, she droned on, is that this can be your release valve, Josh. When I was young, I wrote down all the bad things that happened to me in a journal like this, and I felt much better. It helped me get out all of my angry, destructive feelings.

Maybe you should write in one again then, I thought, but I just nodded and put the book with my other gifts (a festive package of Ghirardelli chocolates and an assortment of scented gel pens).

Im wondering if I should use the notebook for its intended purpose. I do need a release valve one way or another.

I open the journal and make a list of things that are bad in my life. Its not complete that would take hours. But its a start.

Things that are bad in my life:

1. I am 16 and have never been kissed... unless you count Nana, Mom, Mrs. Stokes, Aunt Sarah, Ollies Labrador Bongo, and my cousin Anna. And Bongos kiss was more of a slurp.
2. I look nerdy and I dont even wear glasses.
3. We have financial difficulties.
4. My mother is the strictest parent on the planet.
5. Girls think Im a dick...

Good. Excellent. Do I feel any better?

No.

Looking at me, I say, would you say I come across as, oh... nerdy?

Nah, says Ollie. Youre too stupid to be nerdy.

Thanks, I say. But I mean... if you didnt know that?

Id say youre more of a geek, says Davey.

A geek! Davey, if anyone is a geek its you.

Uh, I may be a lot of things, but I am not a geek.

You kind of are, I say.

Just because I wear glasses...

What about your periodic table mug? I remind him.

That was a gift.

The Jeopardy quiz books?

I was going through a phase.

The Apollo 13 space module poster on your door?

Davey holds up his hands. Okay, you got me.

Well, says Ollie, I dont think being nerdys so bad anyway. I saw a girl in the mall once with a sweatshirt that said I love nerds on it. At least I think thats what it said. It wasnt easy to make out because of her enormous boobs.

Right, I say.

The words were kinda stretched.

Yeah, Ollie, we get it.

Well, all I know, says Peter, is that whatever you are, you should be proud.

Jesus, Peter, Ollie says. That is so gay.

I know, says Peter happily, since hes almost certainly gay.

School seemed to go on forever today. But when I empty out my backpack, I discover its still not over, because I now have a mountain of math homework to do! Mr. Cain, our teacher, obviously thinks none of us have anything better to do than slave over decimals all evening. In my case, he could be right... but how would he know that?

The home phone rings, and I rush downstairs. Its Davey. Why he cant text like normal kids is beyond me.

Have you done your math yet? he says.

Some of it, I say.

I dont get it.

What dont you get?

Anything!

Davey sounds desperate, but Im used to this. He knows how to turn on the emotional blackmail. But while it works with his mom, it wont work with me.

Well, maybe you should ask Mr. Cain, I say.

Huh?

Mr. Cain, our math teacher.

But then hell realize Im dumb and move me down a level. And I wont survive ten minutes with the morons, Josh!

I can hear Daveys breathing through the phone, short and rapid, like he has just climbed Mount Everest, or in Daveys case, walked down his hallway.

Calm down, Davey, I say. Lets go through it slowly. Now what you need to do

Cant you just tell me the answers? he asks.

What?

Iron Man 3 is streaming online.

Im a softie thats the problem. Even Ozzy takes advantage of my wonderful nature. Currently he is rolling around in my clean laundry, shedding an asthmatics nightmare of black and white hairs. Im getting the occasional whiff of ferret food too. Thanks, Ozzy. Im really gonna attract the opposite sex with my jeans smelling like liver!

Madame Zizi, our French teacher, just told us to write a paragraph about our family, but since I dont know the French for ridiculously bad-tempered psychos, its gonna be difficult for me. Madame Zizi says we can finish our paragraph at home.