This chapter springs from a comment Ethan made during the charity golf game, and from Larry's shirt issues.
I don't own Ethan, Larry, or the most horrendous shirt ever invented.
My name is Lawrence Tudgeman, I am ten years old, and today marks the end of an era in my life. Ethan Craft has officially gone over to the dark side.
The era began two years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Several of my classmates who were no doubt jealous of my superior intellect and good looks were voicing their opinions on certain matters, and I was about to knock them flat-
But I promised to tell the truth in this notebook- I owe it to Ethan. Fine. They were making fun of me for wearing the same outfit every day, and I didn't have a prayer of getting out of there intact. That's when Ethan came along. He had simply said, "Let the Tudge-man alone."
And they did. Because even then, there was something that made you want to listen to Ethan Craft. Some blame it on his hair, but I believe that it goes beyond that.
I had noticed something different about Ethan for the past week. Instead of riding the bus, his dad had taken to driving him to school. His usual pristine appearance was fast fading. He began taking a sack lunch instead of buying it. It could only be one thing- the invasion of a Mr. Mom. I knew.
"Thanks," I said when the bullies had left.
"It's nothing," said Ethan, suddenly looking serious. "Just... now I know what it's like not to have a second shirt to change into."
"Oh, I've got another shirt. I just save it for the weekends."
He told me about his dad losing his job. I told him of having a freelance writer for a dad, which was like him being out of a job permanently, because he was rather awful at it. I had stopped believing in the miracle best-selling novel that was going to save us years ago.
From then on, we were, well, not inseparable, but close. I invited him fishing in the creek that ran through my backyard. We hung out at his mom's barbershop, though I was wary of trying any of her 'miracle shampoos'. Anything that sounded interesting to two eight-year-olds and didn't cost much money, we did. He kept bullies away from me, and when his mom died, mine became sort of a foster mother to him. We spent hours coming up with plots to banish the evil Twitty.
But alas! It has come to an end. Kate Sanders has recently become the first girl in our grade to get a bra, and it has become Ethan's mission in life to get her to pay attention to him. What's a kid to do?
Hmmm. I could always get Kate's friend Lizzie to talk to me. Then Ethan would be sorry!
Ever hopeful,
Lawrence Tudgeman