Freshman Year & Other Unnatural Disasters

Meredith Zeitlin

G. P. Putnam’s Sons
An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

division of Penguin Young Readers Group.

Published by The Penguin Group.

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, U.S.A.

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.).

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.

Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland
(a division of Penguin Books Ltd.).

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124,
Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd).

Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre,
Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India.

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632,
New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd).

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue,
Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa.

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.

Copyright © 2012 by Meredith Zeitlin.

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced
in any form without permission in writing from the publisher,
G. P. Putnam’s Sons, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group,
345 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014.

G. P. Putnam’s Sons, Reg. U.S. Pat. & Tm. Off. The scanning, uploading and distribution of
this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher
is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do
not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of
the author’s rights is appreciated. The publisher does not have any control over and does
not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Published simultaneously in Canada. Printed in the United States of America.

Design by Annie Ericsson. Text set in Meridien.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Zeitlin, Meredith.

Freshman year & other unnatural disasters / Meredith Zeitlin.

p. cm.

Summary: Smart, occasionally insecure, and ambitious Brooklyn fourteen-year-old Kelsey
Finkelstein embarks on her freshman year of high school in Manhattan with the intention
of “rebranding” herself, but unfortunately everything she tries to do is a total disaster.

[1. Self-acceptance—Fiction. 2. Self-perception—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction.
4. Family life—New York (State)—New York—Fiction. 5. High schools—Fiction.
6. Schools—Fiction. 7. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 8. Humorous stories.]

I. Title. II. Title: Freshman year and other unnatural disasters.

PZ7.Z395Fr 2012 [Fic]—dc22 2011005690

ISBN: 978-1-101-56050-1

1   3   5   7   9   10   8   6   4   2

This book is dedicated with love to my mother,
the indefatigable Marcia Arnold Zeitlin Bloch,
who has long believed that someone should
dedicate a book to her.

And to my splendid sister, Joanna,
who is a one-eyed pirate.

Table of Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

1

Here it is, practically mid-September, and it’s
still
too hot to live. I’m in the den trying to find anything worth watching on TV (fat chance on a Sunday night), and I can feel myself melting all over the couch. I love how my parents spend a million dollars putting in central air and then don’t want to use it because it’s “technically fall.” Everyone in the tristate area is wearing shorts, and my delusional parents seem to think a cold front is going to hit Brooklyn in the next five minutes. Um, global warming, anyone?

My three best friends—Em, JoJo, and Cassidy—are on their way over here right now, so all I can do is hope that they’re prepared for the Sahara-like conditions. Of course, they’ve been to my house about a zillion times, so they’re familiar with the endless cycle of injustice that is my life.

I give up on the TV and head upstairs to the kitchen to get some snacks ready—and to make sure I’m closest to the front door. That way I can guarantee that my friends aren’t intercepted by any nosy family members. Tonight is the last time we’re all getting together before the first day of school on Tuesday, and I can’t risk letting our important strategy session get sidetracked by my dad wanting to know if Em’s dad is free for a thrilling racquetball game next Saturday, or my mother telling Cassidy she just
loves
her new earrings and had some just like them when she was our age and who wants to see pictures of her back in the glory days?!

Seriously, the things I deal with.

Em and Cassidy arrive just as I’m fishing a giant bag of Twizzlers from the back of a cupboard. They toss their overnight bags on the floor in the kitchen and pull up stools at the breakfast counter. “I thought you guys were meeting JoJo at the train,” I say.

“We were,” Cass explains, ripping into the Twizzlers with relish. “She texted that she was—”

“Running late?” I chime in simultaneously. JoJo is
always
running late.

“Yep.” Em grins. She gets a can of root beer out of the fridge and takes a long sip. “Maybe it’s time to give up on her. I mean, we’ve only been friends for a decade. Maybe enough is enough?”

It always amazes me how Em is sarcastic and silly around us but so sweet and shy at school. I wish more people got to see this side of her—but of course, she’s been my very best friend since nursery school, so I know her better than anyone.

Cass adds, “Maybe we should start telling her we’re meeting half an hour before we really are so she’ll show up on time.” She grabs a handful of Wheat Thins from a box on the counter. “Think that would work?”

“You guys have so little faith in me!”

JoJo suddenly appears in the door frame. Her hair has new turquoise streaks in it, which means she’s been hanging out with her dad today. He was a guitarist with a semi-famous band when he was young and refuses to let go of the dream. He has a Mohawk and lots of tattoos and is always encouraging JoJo to express herself. And he doesn’t believe in rules, which works out great for the four of us when we go to her house.

Of course, right now we’re at
my
house, and my mother absolutely cannot resist putting in an appearance. “Hi, girls! Eating us out of house and home for a change, I see?”

Ugggghhh. “Mom! Can you not?”

“Kelsey, have you been fiddling with the downstairs television set again? We put those parental controls on there for a reason, and it’s a pain in the neck to keep resetting them all the time.”

“I was just trying to—”

“Ooh, I like the new hair, JoJo. Very hip. And Em, I hear you had quite the romance at summer camp this year—I want to hear all about the lucky guy!”

As usual, the woman is unstoppable in her efforts to embarrass me in front of my friends. I start scooping up our snacks, saying, “Mom, we’d love to chat, but we have a lot to do tonight, so we’ll just relocate upstairs, if you don’t mind….” The girls and I start heading for the stairs.

“Big day on Tuesday, huh?” she calls, following us. “I know, I know, you don’t want to talk to your horrible mother. Tell me, do you girls treat
your
mothers like this?”

I herd my friends into my room and close the door, but not before we hear: “No, that’s fine, just ignore me—I’m used to the Typical Adolescent Behavior around here!”

She is seriously more annoying than any other person on the planet, including my dad. “Sorry, guys—you know how she is,” I groan, flopping onto the floor.

“Yeah, exactly like everyone’s mom. Except JoJo’s,” Cass points out. “And mine, obviously. But that’s because I only see her, like, once a year.”

Cass’s mom decided one day that she felt like living in Paris and left, so now Cass lives with her dad and older brother a few blocks from me in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Some people have all the luck, I tell you.

“Twizzler, please!” JoJo sings, holding out a hand. Em passes her a fistful. “Thanks. I’d’ve gotten them myself, but I’m working on my Typical Adolescent Behavior.”

“You didn’t really tell her about James, did you?” Em asks me. James is the guy Em has been dating from camp for the last two months.

“Em, are you crazy?” I gasp. “Of course not! She sneakily read one of your letters—I left it on the kitchen table for about eight seconds, and by the time I got back it was too late. She’s like the Secret Service.”