The Disturbed Girl's Dictionary

The Disturbed Girl's Dictionary

YA fiction
"'Ain't you supposed to be at work?' I say to my mom when I get home.
'No. I don't like it no more. It's cold now so Chuey moved us
inside. Now he wants us to dance. Anyway, Jaime says he don't want
me working for Chuey no more. He's got things lined up. Gonna give
me money to stay home, if you can believe that?!'
Me: 'Well, shit, I can tell you really thought this through.'"
Macey, narrator of Noniqa Ramos' The Disturbed Girl's
Dictionary, has every reason to be angry. The adults in her life
aren't thinking things through. Her father is in prison. Her mother,
rather than seriously trying to get a job, is relying on a series of
"guests" to keep food in the fridge and cell phones in their pockets.
Her beloved brother, Zane, was taken by Children's Protective
Services. (They're keeping am eye on Marcy). Mommy Dearest won't
even go to parenting classes to try to get him back.
Macy's best friend, Alma, who manages to be an academic stand
out while shouldering heavy family responsibilities, has been her
anchor. Now Alma is morphing into someone Macy hardly knows. Macy is
desperate to discover why this is happening and how she can salvage
their relationship.
Macy's narrative takes an unusual format: a dictionary. Each
chapter starts off with a word or phrase and a Macy definition:
*Annoying "Adjective. People who eat pizza with a knife and fork. I
mean fold that bitch and eat like a normal person."
*Breasts. "Noun. Yes. That's what they is called. Not boobs,
boobies, titties, tetas, wah wahs, chi-chis, knockers..."
and *Split. "Verb. I used to tell Zane nothing could split us up.
Everyone wants to know why I'm such a bitch. You try walking around
with half a heart. I ain't letting that happen again.
followed by a continuation of the story line or flashback.
The format works beautifully. Macy's voice is unique and
authentic. You really want to get to know her.
On a purrrsonal note, although death is never good, Joey's transition
was as peaceful as one could hope for. He was home. He loved his
home. Every time he'd come back from the vet he'd make a circuit
smelling everything and purring contentedly. He woke up from his nap
and called me. I stroked him. He looked me in the eye, reached out
to touch me, and breathed his last.
Eugene buried him in Winterport. I went so I could say a last
goodbye. Also to know where the grave is so I can bring him flowers
when we visit Winterport.
Just like Macy in the story I feel like I'm walking around with half a
heart.
A great big shout out goes out to the best little cat in the world.
jules hathaway


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