To Monica,
for the licorice straps, sleepovers,
and “deep and meaningfuls”
Contents
THE FRIENDSHIP MATCHMAKER MANUAL
GLOSSARY
RULES FOR THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
RULES FOR LUNCHTIME
Chapter 3
RULES FOR THE SCHOOL BUS (PART 1)
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
RULES FOR SITTING AT TABLES
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
RULES FOR THE SCHOOL BUS (PART 2)
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
RULES FOR FRIENDSHIP FORMATIONS—TRIOS
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
BUNGEE JUMP FRIEND
Chapter 19
RULES FOR FIELD TRIPS
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE FRIENDSHIP MATCHMAKER MANUAL
BY LARA ZANY
WELCOME TO MY MANUAL.
My name is Lara Zany, and I am an official Friendship Matchmaker.
If you’re reading this Manual it’s probably because you’re sick and tired of feeling lonely. Or maybe you have a friend but you’re not sure where you stand with him or her. Or maybe you’re the third wheel in a trio. Or can’t work out how to strike up a conversation with somebody in the cafeteria line. Maybe you’re the one who gets picked last for sports.
Don’t worry. I’m here for you. You’ve come to the right place!
The first thing is to ignore every piece of advice your parents and teachers have given you. Look at them. They’re old. They can’t remember what it was like to be young. They believe in things like “being true to yourself” and “being accepted for who you are.”
That stuff gets you beaten up.
The world of friendship matchmaking is complicated, and only a truly gifted person with a heart of gold can take it on. We’re all given special talents and a reason to be in this world. I was made for this job. A lot of sacrifices have had to be suffered. A lot of hard decisions have had to be made. But I accept that. It’s just the kind of person I am.
In my quest to make sense of school and help others make and keep friends, I’ve created a glossary of words to help you through my Manual.
GLOSSARY
BOBF Bus Only Best Friend
BTFP Bus Trip Faux Pas
FMM Friendship Matchmaker
LBC Loner by Choice
TL Total Loner
MAK Make and Keep
RFP Reputation Faux Pas
FIMS Friendship Intervention Mediation Session
— NOTE —
By the way, if you’re reading this in Spanish or Turkish or Mandarin (which you probably are, given the book publishing deal I’m going to get), I want you to remember that it doesn’t matter what country you live in or which language you speak. The Rules of school are the same all over the world.
There are those who survive.
And those who don’t.
So read on to find out how to survive …
RULES FOR THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Follow these Rules if you’re fresh blood. (I use the word “blood” on purpose. Schools are bloodthirsty war zones, and if you think I’m making this up you ARE a TL [Total Loner] and deserve to have no friends.)
1. Get rid of anything that can be used to tease you. That means you need to smell nice, brush your teeth, wear clean clothes, don’t let your mom give you a weird haircut. Don’t give people ammunition. (I told you this is a war zone.)
2. For those who wear glasses, are cross-eyed, have birthmarks in strange places, are too short, too tall, too skinny, or too fat—you need to enter the war zone like officers in an army. You need extra protective gear. HOMEWORK: Think of every possible way you can be teased. Write a list. Then think up some great comeback lines. Be prepared, or be prepared to suffer.
3. For heaven’s sake don’t stand back waiting for somebody to talk to you. Everybody’s looking for friends, and nobody’s going to be interested in the weird kid who’s sucking his thumb and looking like he’s ready to vomit his breakfast on the floor. Walk up to people and start talking. BUT choose your conversation openers wisely.
Example of a good opener: “I saw (insert hottest movie star of the moment here) at the mall on the weekend, and he commented on how I have just the right look for his next (insert blockbuster movie).”
Example of a bad opener: “I’m so excited that we’re learning long division this year.”
You might have noticed that I am encouraging you to bend the truth.
This is SCHOOL, not church, temple, synagogue, mosque, or any other place of worship of your choice.
There’s nothing holy about the cafeteria.
Chapter 1
I stood at the Potts County Middle School front steps with my Manual tucked under one arm and a clipboard under the other. The morning bell hadn’t rung yet, and the courtyard was filling up on the first day of school.
I was ready. I’d spent the last week of summer vacation adding some new chapters to my Manual and changing some earlier ones. My mediation sessions had made me rethink a few strategies, especially in the Rules for Field Trips chapter.
Suddenly, I felt a tap on the back of my arm and turned around. A boy, probably in fifth grade, stared up at me.
“Excuse me, are you Lara Zany?”
I nodded.
“So you’re …” The boy hesitated.
I knew exactly what he wanted to ask. And I was very pleased with his respectful, adoring look, so I flashed him a big smile.
The boy started again. “Are you Lara Zany, the one and only Friendship Matchmaker?”
Boy, did I love hearing those words.
“Yes, I am.”
The boy sighed with relief. “My name is Dean. I’m new. They said I should come to you. Can you help me?”
I leaned down and looked the boy in the eye.
“Dean,” I said, taking out my clipboard and scribbling his name on a notepad, “I’m Potts County Middle School’s official Friendship Matchmaker, and I’m here to help. Now, let’s get started. Tell me everything about yourself, and I’ll find you the right friend in no time.”
By the time the bell had rung, I’d matched some new kids in the fifth grade (Sophia and Hannah—loved ponies and enjoyed chocolate-covered peanuts; Dean and Zak—both sports obsessed; Naj and Edward—enjoyed collecting insects and soil samples) and scheduled a FIMS (Friendship Intervention Mediation Session) for recess between Marisol and Rachel from the sixth grade, who had been best friends until Rachel found a new best friend over the summer.
I made my way to the seventh-grade lockers. My classroom was open so I went inside and found a seat at the front. I put my pencil case on the desk and took out my exercise book covered in fluorescent-pink paper. My Top Secret Friendship Matchmaker Manual was tucked safely in the tray under my desk.
I glanced around the classroom and grinned. Everybody was either in a pair or foursome. Of course, I’d been responsible for matching most of the friends in the room. Except for Bart Franklin and Joseph Took, who had met at their Saturday karate classes—something told me they would eventually need me, though. The two only had karate in common. They’d soon realize that they couldn’t talk about black belts six hours a day without eventually using the moves on each other.
I sat alone, but I preferred it that way. Nobody dared to think I was a TL (Total Loner)
. I was an LBC (Loner by Choice). I’d made that very clear in all my pep talks and FIMS, and I knew that the general school population regarded me as the coolest and smartest seventh-grader around.
The only problem being an LBC was that for some dumb reason our teachers were obsessed with “group work” and making “team efforts.” I’d tried to reason with Ms. Pria, but she simply refused to see my logic when it came to group activities or teamwork. I’d much rather work on my own, but if people chose to sit next to me in class or paired up with me for class work, I let them. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped, and anyway, I’ve always had a heart of eighteen-carat gold.
Sometimes I’d pair up with a TL in class. I wasn’t able to help everybody. Some people continued to be TLs in spite of all the effort I put into helping them make friends. That’s because they didn’t follow the Rules detailed in my chapter So You Have a Friend? Don’t Be Too Confident! Learn How to Make and Keep Them.
I mean, you can take a donkey to water and make it drink, but you can’t force it to burp, or whatever that saying is.
I made sure that the TLs knew I didn’t have time for friends. I was in the business of helping other people make friends.
I sat quietly, waiting for Ms. Pria to arrive. Being the school’s official Friendship Matchmaker had certain responsibilities, and I had to set an example. After all, most people wanted to be like me. If I was burping the national anthem like Chris, or making paper planes out of the pages of my notebook like Ralph, I’d probably start a trend. So I had to always be on my best behavior. It could get tiring, but when you have a heart like mine the sacrifices are easier to put up with.
The classroom was buzzing with noise as everybody swapped stories about their summer.
Everybody knew Ms. Pria was the best of the seventh-grade teachers. Rumor had it that Mr. Laidlaw picked his nose and wiped it on your textbook when he thought you weren’t looking. And Ms. Simeon was obviously off in the clouds. So really that just meant Ms. Pria was the best of the worst.
While I waited patiently, I thought about the morning’s events. The first days of school are always my busiest. New kids, kids transferred from other schools, kids whose best friends had dropped them in favor of a new best friend during the summer, were all begging me to help them. So already I’d sorted out a number of friendship pairs and foursomes.
(I have a strict policy against trios but the reasons for this are too disturbing to talk about just yet.)
This morning had been busier than usual, and I’d been forced to put off some FIMS requests. There had been a lot of best-friend swapping over the break. But the new kids who’d transferred from a nearby school had to take priority.
Finding a friend for one of them, David, was going to be a personal challenge for me. The kid clearly had issues, judging from the way he talked to his basketball.
Ms. Pria walked in. “Good morning, class,” she said, with the same enthusiasm as somebody entering a lion’s den. “I hope you’re all looking forward to another year of learning. We’re going to start with English this morning. I want you to break into teams of three and do the comprehension exercise I’m about to write on the board.”
I couldn’t believe it. A group project already? I raised my hand, annoyed with Ms. Pria.
“Yes, Lara?” Ms. Pria said.
I placed my hands on my lap and flashed her my winning smile. “Ms. Pria, could we please do the exercise alone?”
“No,” Ms. Pria said and turned back to writing on the board.
I sighed patiently. Ms. Pria really didn’t understand anything and needed the obvious to be explained to her.
“But, Ms. Pria, how can we do our best in a group when everybody’s at different levels?”
“Lara Zany, it’s called teamwork!”
I could not believe that it was only 9:03 a.m. and Ms. Pria had already lost her temper.
Tanya Zito, late on the first day, entered the classroom quietly and plunked her books down onto the desk.
Tanya was a Total Loner. Last year I’d tried, through many Induction Seminars, to help her. I’d warned her that people didn’t like her obsession with sniffing school supplies before she used them (she especially liked rulers). But by the end of the year I’d added Tanya to my secret Terminal TL list and moved on to other more hopeful cases.
So when Tanya sat down next to me and started sniffing my pencil case, I tried with all my might to control my temper. Ms. Pria had already lost it. Somebody needed to set a good example.
I started to copy the passage on the board.
“You need to copy it, too,” I told Tanya, who had moved on to sniffing a pink highlighter.
Just then the classroom door was flung open. The seventh-grade coordinator, Mr. Smith, walked in, followed by a girl.
“Ms. Pria,” Mr. Smith said, “this is your new student, Emily Wong. Class, be sure to make Emily feel welcome.”
For some reason I locked eyes with Emily.
Immediately I knew this girl would be trouble.
Chapter 2
Ms. Pria told Emily to sit with me and Tanya. Our desk was big enough for three.
Emily pulled up a chair beside me and took out an exercise book. I noticed she had painted her fingernails black and white on one hand, and multicolored with glitter on the other. I took pity on the new girl and decided to offer her some free advice.
“You should wipe off your nail polish when you get home.”
Emily scoffed. “Why?”
The poor thing. She really had no clue. “Because you’ll just attract attention to yourself. It looks weird.”
I went back to my copying. I’d hit the nail on the head and was sure Emily would be asking the principal for nail polish remover at lunchtime.
But she just stretched out her hands and looked at her fingers. “Well, in that case, I’ll keep the nail polish on a little longer.”
I gasped. “I don’t think you get what I’m saying,” I said with a frown. Maybe she needed things explained several times. “You’ll probably be teased.”
“Because of my nail polish?”
I looked Emily up and down. “Well, now that you mention it, you shouldn’t wear a Dora hair tie; that’s for toddlers. And you shouldn’t wear dolphin earrings; they’re just so girly.”
I was confident she would understand my wisdom. After all, my Fashion Rules were the most requested topic at my recess seminars.
“My cousin made me promise I’d wear her Dora hair tie on my first day of school,” Emily said without a hint of embarrassment. “She’s four. She said a fairy had given it to her as a good luck charm and that I had to wear it. Cute, huh? So I promised her. And I like dolphins, so I couldn’t care less what people think about my earrings.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I tried to think straight. Promises to four-year-olds? Cartoon-inspired dress choices in seventh grade? Dolphins? This was without a doubt the worst case of RFP (Reputation Faux Pas) I’d ever come across.
Not to mention that I’d never, ever been challenged before. I was the school’s official Friendship Matchmaker. My word was law. People from all over the playground came looking for me, begging for a few words of wisdom. And when Harry Potter’s publishers agreed to publish my Manual (it was nearly finished, just a few more chapters left), I’d be famous in schools all around the world. After all, being teased in an American playground was no different from being teased in a playground in England, China, or Norway.
So what screws were loose in Emily’s head?
I was so annoyed that I looked at Tanya and snatched the pink highlighter out of her hand.
“Get a tissue and wipe your nose,” I snapped. “It’s covered in pink.”
RULES FOR LUNCHTIME
1. Tell your mom to stop packing leftovers. They might taste like heaven but they’re a RECIPE for disaster.
2. NO reading alone. But if you HAVE to, read next to somebody so you look like an LBC, not a TL. You do NOT want to be called a nerd. That label s
ticks like gum.
3. NO hanging out with the teacher on duty in the cafeteria, or the librarian, or any other grown-up. Trust me on this one. There’s no turning back from a reputation as the teacher’s pet.
4. Playing sports with boys (if you’re a girl) or with girls (if you’re a boy) is fine as long as you’re not the only boy/girl. Possible names you will be called: tomboy and sissy. Again, those labels stick forever.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Chapter 3
At recess I held my FIMS between Marisol and Rachel in the small courtyard near the vending machines. There was an audience of loyal kids who had all benefited from my help matching them with other kids. Marisol and Rachel said they didn’t mind.
I sat in the middle of a bench, clipboard in my hand, my Manual safely stored in my bag. Marisol sat on one side of me, Rachel on the other.
“Okay, Marisol, how about you start, since you’re upset. Rachel, please don’t interrupt until Marisol has finished. What happened?”
Marisol looked shyly at her audience, who were munching on their chips and apples and cookies and watching Marisol like people at the movies.
“Well, Rachel was my best friend last year. We promised we’d be best friends forever, but we said if one of us went to another school or another state it was okay to get a new best friend. But if we stayed here then we had to be best friends forever and ever.”
She paused and I gently coaxed her, saying, “Go on.”
Rachel wriggled a bit.
“Well, on the first day of summer my mom said I could invite Rachel over to my house and so she called Rachel’s mom who wasn’t there so she spoke to Rachel’s sister and asked her but her sister said Rachel had gone to the movies with their neighbor. So Mom said okay, what about that night? And Rachel’s sister said Rachel was …”
The crowd leaned in. I moved closer. “Don’t be nervous.”
Marisol’s voice was a whisper. “Sleeping over at her neighbor’s place …”
The crowd immediately started muttering and making angry noises.