That is just so cute.
But who? Who is it?
I figured there was only one way to find out, so I wrote back right away:
FTLOUIE: Dear Friend, I got your letter. Thank you very much. Thanks also for the get-well wishes.
WHO ARE YOU? (I swear I won’t tell anyone.)
Mia
I sat around for half an hour, hoping he would write back, but he never did.
WHO IS IT??? WHO IS IT??
I have GOT to get well by tomorrow so I can go to school and figure out who Jo-C-rox is. Otherwise, I will go mental, just like Mel Gibson’s girlfriend in Hamlet, and I’ll end up floating in my Lanz of Salzburg nightie in the Hudson with the rest of the medical waste.
Friday, October 24, Algebra
I AM BETTER!!!!!
Well, actually, I don’t feel all that great, but I don’t care. I don’t have a temperature, so my mother had no choice but to let me go to school. There was no way I was going to lie in bed another day. Not with Jo-C-rox out there somewhere, possibly loving me.
But so far, nothing. I mean, we swung by Lilly’s in the limo and picked her up, as usual, and Michael was with her and all, but by the casual way he said hello to me you would hardly have known that he’d ever sent me a get-well e-mail signed “Love, Michael,” let alone ever called me the Josiest girl he’s ever met. It is so very clear that he isn’t Jo-C-rox.
And that Love at the end of his e-mail was just a platonic Love. I mean, Michael’s Love obviously didn’t mean he actually loves me.
Not that I ever thought he did. Or might. Love me, I mean.
He did walk me to my locker, though. This was extremely nice of him. Granted, we were in the middle of a heated discussion about Tuesday’s episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but still, no boy has ever walked me to my locker before. Boris Pelkowski meets Lilly at the front doors to the school and walks her to her locker every single morning, and has done so ever since the day she agreed to be his girlfriend.
Okay, I admit that Boris Pelkowski is a mouth-breather who continues to tuck his sweaters into his pants despite my frequent hints that in America, this is considered a Glamour “Don’t.” But still, he is a boy. And it is always cool to have a boy—even one who wears a retainer—walk you to your locker. I know I have Lars, but it’s different having your bodyguard walk you to your locker, as opposed to an actual boy.
I just noticed that Lana Weinberger has purchased all new notebook binders. I guess she threw away the old ones. She had written “Mrs. Josh Richter” all over them, then crossed it out when she and Josh broke up. They are back together now. I guess she’s willing once again to have her identity obfuscated by taking her “husband’s” name, since she’s already got three I Love Joshes and seven Mrs. Josh Richters on her Algebra notebook alone.
Before class started, Lana was telling everyone who would listen about some party she is going to tonight. None of us are invited, of course. It’s a party given by one of Josh’s friends.
I never get invited to parties like that. You know, like the ones in movies about teenagers, where somebody’s parents go out of town, so everybody in the school comes over with kegs of beer and trashes the house?
I do not actually know anybody who lives in a house. Just apartment buildings. And if you start trashing an apartment, you can bet the people next door will call the doorman to complain. That could get you in major trouble with the co-op board.
I don’t suppose Lana has ever considered these things, however.
The 3rd power of x is called cube of x
The 2nd power of x is squared
Ode to the View from the
Window in My Algebra Class
Sun-warmed concrete benches
next to tables with built-in checkerboards
and the graffiti left by hundreds
before us in