Ten Things I Hate About Me by Randa Abdel-Fattah Read Free Book Online

say?
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    Will you laugh?
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    Of course I will. But I promise you it won’t be a condescendinglaugh. It will be a “what a freak of a dad, poor girl, ha-ha” kind of laugh.
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    I’m basically subject to a sunset rule. I have to be home before it gets dark. And if I go out during the day, it’s strictly females only. The only excuse I have to talk to a boy outside of the “education context” is if he’s scanning my groceries at a supermarket checkout.
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    That’s rough. Is your dad in the military or something?
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    No, although come to think of it, he did do compulsory military service when he was eighteen, back in Lebanon. That’s where he was born.
    There you go! You’ve solved the mystery for me! A year in an army barracks as a teenager sowed the seeds for my dad’s obsession with rules on fridge doors.
    When Dad immigrated to Australia he worked different factory jobs, even though he has a PhD. He’s been a taxi driver ever since I can remember. I wish he was more ambitious and got a job that allowed people to call him Doctor. I wish he’d pursue a careerthat enabled him to work in an office with a harbor view and bring home sophisticated stationery I could take to school and show off. Ha-ha. It’s just that I hate that he fits the stereotype of the ethnic guy driving a taxi when I know he’s so highly educated. I want people to give him the respect he deserves.
    Look at me gushing like this. You must think I’m a weirdo. Sorry. It’s just that I don’t get to open up much.
    So what does your dad do?
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    He’s a lawyer. And if you want stereotypes, I’ll give them to you. I’m the son of a rich, successful lawyer, who is resisting his father’s efforts to get him following in his footsteps.
    It’s enough to put you into a coma.
    A couple of nights ago my dad invited a judge over for dinner. In a pistachio shell, here’s how it went:
    Dad : Son, you know His Honor. Say hello to His Honor.
    Me : Hello, His Honor.
    His Honor (looks bored): That’s funny, son.
    Dad (gritting teeth): My son, the comedian.
    His Honor : Son, comedy will get you far in life. But a strong academic record, a law degree, and persistence, that will take you to the moon.
    Me : So what you’re saying is that I should become an astronaut?
    My obvious enthusiasm didn’t go down too well with my dad.
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    Judges visit you?? Your dad is a hotshot lawyer? I want to collect a visa to your world. I can imagine what your mom looks like. She wears designer clothes and her hair is always up in an exotic French twist and she smells of Chanel No. 5 and drives a BMW. You probably live in an amazing mansion and you’ll get a car when you turn eighteen and your dad will use his connections and get you a job in a top-tier firm.
    I am officially jealous.
    From: [email protected]
    To: [email protected]
    Judicial dinners, lectures about legislative reform, and sterile mansions are about as exciting as toe warts.

9
    IT’S OFFICIAL. Liz and Sam are going out.
    “He asked me on Saturday night,” Liz tells Amy and me as we walk to class on Monday morning. “He said he’s had the hots for me since last year but he only just got up the nerve to ask me out.” She giggles. “You two should have come to the party. It was awesome.”
    “You didn’t go?” I ask Amy.
    “Nope.”
    “Why