Excerpts from Kristine Beaver's Diary

9/18/05

What I like most so far about my job is Russ, the ninth and tenth grade chemistry teacher. He's so cute. Every morning he comes to my classroom with a beaker full of hot coffee. Yes, a beaker! He's gotten to know just how much cream and sugar I like in my coffee so I don't even have to worry about it. I love it. I think I love Russ. I know haven't known him for very long, and usually I'm not attracted to guys with mustaches, but there is something about him. I can't put my finger on it.

9/29/05

Doug, one of my freshman, called me a retard today. I had asked him to sit in an assigned seat in my study hall. He didn't want to sit in an assigned seat, and that's when he called me a retard. He said it loud. I let Doug know that he would be getting a detention for calling me a retard. In return, he gave me the finger. I asked Doug to go down to the office and talk to Mr. McMahon about his behavior. Doug told me to inform the office that they can lick his ball sack. I told him that I would, and I did. I let the office know this as soon as study hall was over. I also let Doug know on his detention slip that most people don't like being called names and he should think before he speaks.

10/18/05

Russ is married. The bastard. The fucking nerve. I had even told my mom about him. I said that there was this guy at work that he was a little bit older and a little chunky, but so sweet. I can't believe it. He invites me to his Halloween party. He says his wife's favorite holiday is Halloween. Two months into the school year and this is the first time he mentions his wife. Over Halloween. I hate Halloween. I didn't tell Russ this, but I did say that I didn't know he was married. He tells me that it has been 7 years. I ask why he doesn't wear a wedding ring and he tells me it's because of the chemicals and appliances he uses all day. He says he'd rather play it safe. I wanted to tell Russ to fuck off after he said this but that wouldn't have be very professional.

Mrs. Binton

We have the air in front of our noses. We have the air in front of our noses. I tell Colin this, but Colin is not interested in this news. He is in bed, crying. On and off, on and off. Two in the morning. On and off, on and off. I am up now and not happy about this, though I do not let on.

"It's heavy, tonight," Colin says. "It's heavy."

"I know," I say. "It will get better."

I rub Colin's back and I stare at the ceiling. I think about work in the morning. There is a stack of papers on my desk and Cathy is leading the team meeting tomorrow at eight-thirty. This means it is my week for doughnut and bagel duty and the gas tank is empty because Colin never fills up the gas tank when he takes my car and now I don't know if I will ever fall asleep because I never can when I wake up like this, so late.

"I'm sorry," Colin says. "I'm sorry I'm bothering you."

"You're not bothering me," I say, lying. He is bothering me. I love him, but he is bothering me. "You're not bothering anything."

I rub Colin's back for a few more minutes and then I go to the bathroom. I sit on the toilet with the lights off. I pet my cat, Sophie, she is laying on my lap.

"You are a good girl," I say. "You are the softest, prettiest, cutest, girl and I love you more than I love the world."

I flush the toilet, but I remain seated. I wait for Colin to fall asleep. He does better when he is alone.

"Yes he does," I say to Sophie. She is still on my lap. "Daddy sleeps good when he sleeps by himself."

Sophie purrs and shifts on my lap. She purrs again and I rub her belly.

Cora

Cory don't have to get all wurked up cause I put his shavin cream underneath the sink and hide it. He don't have to get all crazee and start new bizness with me cause I drink all the strawberry milk. This apartment is too small for us and dad and his girl, Darryl, that's been sleeping over, eating all of our cheerios and eggs and microwave popcorn. She seems nice enough but her teeth are all yellow. Not sure how dad puts up with yellow teeth like that. The boys I like, the posters on my walls, the teeth I'm looking at are white as snow white. That is what I'm talking about. Not like Darryl's teeth. They look like the front ends of some of Cory's whitee tighties all stained with pee and who knows what else laying in the corner of the bathroom for weeks. That boy, my twin, I'd like to choke him sometimes, that is what I'd like to do to him. Choke him and slap him and tell him no girls are every going to look at his oily faced self if he doesn't start dressing like he cares, which he don't.