HA! My Queen Amidala underwear might be missing, but the power of the Force is with me nonetheless. My class schedule is EXACTLY the same as last semester’s, except that by some miracle, I now have Bio third period instead of World Civ (Oh, God, please don’t let Kenny, my former Bio partner and ex-boyfriend, have been switched to third-period Bio, too). World Civ is now seventh. And instead of PE fourth period, we all have Health and Safety.
And no Tech Ed or Domestic Arts, thank GOD!!!!! I don’t know who told the administration that I am gifted and talented, but whoever it was, I am eternally grateful, and I will definitely try to live up to it.
And I happen to know that not only does Michael still have fifth-period G and T, but he has the same lunch hour as I do, too. I know that because after I got here to Algebra and sat down and got out my notebook and my Algebra I–II textbook, Michael came in!
Yes, he came right into Mr. G’s second-semester freshman Algebra class, like he belonged there, or something, and everyone was staring at him, including Lana Weinberger, because you know seniors don’t generally just go walking into freshman classes, unless they are working for the attendance office and bringing someone a hall pass or something.
But Michael doesn’t work for the attendance office. He popped into Mr. G’s class just to see me. I know, because he came right up to my desk with his class schedule in his hand and went, “What lunch have you got?” and I told him, “A,” and he said, “Same as me. You have G and T after?” and I said, “Yes,” and he said, “Cool, see you at lunch.”
Then he turned around and walked out again, looking all tall and collegiate with his JanSport backpack and New Balances.
And the way he said, “Hey, Mr. G,” all casually to Mr. Gianini—who was sitting at his desk with a cup of coffee in his hands and his eyebrows all raised—as he went walking out…
Well, you just can’t get cooler than that.
And he had been in here to see me. ME. MIA THERMOPOLIS. Formerly the most unpopular person in the entire school, with the exception of that guy who doesn’t like corn in his chili.
So now everyone who had not seen Michael and me kissing at the Nondenominational Winter Dance knows that we are going out, because you don’t walk into someone else’s classroom between periods to look at their schedule unless you are dating.
I could feel all the gazes of my fellow Algebra sufferers boring into me, even as the bell was ringing, including Lana Weinberger’s. You could practically hear everybody going, “He ’s going out with her ?”
I guess it is a little hard to believe. I mean, evenI can hardly believe it’s true. Because of course it’s common knowledge that Michael’s the third best looking boy in the whole school, after Josh Richter and Justin Baxendale (though if you ask me, having seen Michael plenty of times without a shirt on, he makes those other guys look like that Quasimodo dude), so what is he doing withme , a talentless freak with feet the size of skis and no breasts to speak of and nostrils that flare when I lie?
Plus I am a lowly freshman, and Michael is a senior who has already been accepted early decision to an Ivy League school right here in Manhattan. Plus Michael is co-valedictorian of his class, being a straight-A student, whereas I barely scraped by Algebra I. Plus Michael is way involved with extracurriculars, including the Computer Club, Chess Club, and Physics Club. He designed the school’s website. He can play, like, ten instruments. And now he is starting his own band.
Me? I’m a princess. That’s about it.
And that’s onlyrecently . Before I found out I was a princess, I was just this massive reject who was flunking Algebra and always had orange cat hair all over her school uniform.
So yeah, I guess you could say that a lot of people were kind of surprised to see Michael Moscovitz come striding up to my desk in Algebra to compare class schedules. I could feel them all staring at me after he left and the bell rang, and I could hear them buzzing about it among themselves. Mr. G tried to bring everybody to order, going, “Okay, okay, break’s over. I know it’s been a long time since you last saw one another, but we’ve got a lot to tackle in the next nine weeks,” only of course nobody paid any attention to him but me.
In the desk in front of me, Lana Weinberger was already on her cell phone—the new one that I’d paid for, on account of my having stomped her old one to bits in a semi-psychotic fit last month—going, “Shel? You are not going to believe what just happened. You know that freaky girl in your Latin class, the one with the TV show and the flat face? Yeah, well, her brother was just in here comparing class schedules with Mia Themopo—”
Unfortunately for Lana, Mr. Gianini has a thing about cell phone usage during class time. He fully pounced on her, snatched her phone away, put it up to his ear and said, “Ms. Weinberger can’t speak to you right now as she is busy writing a thousand word essay on how rude it is to make cell phone calls during class time,” after which he threw her phone in his desk drawer and told her she’d get it back at the end of the day, once she’d handed in her essay.
I wish Mr. G would give Lana’s cell phone to me, instead. I would fully use it in a more responsible manner than she does.
But I guess even if the teacher is your stepdad, he can’t just confiscate things from other students and give them to you.
Which is a bummer because I could really use a cell phone right now. I just remembered I never asked my mom what Grandmère wanted when she called last night.
Oh, crud. Integers. Gotta go.
B = (x : x is an integer such that x > 0)
Defn: When integer is squared, the result is called a perfect square
Tuesday, January 20, Health and Safety
This is so boring —MT
You’re telling me. How many times in our academic careers are they going to tell us having unprotected sex can result in unwanted pregnancy and AIDS? Do they think it didn’t soak in the first five thousand times or something? —LM
Apparently. Hey, did you see Mr. Wheeton open the door to the teachers’ lounge, look at Mademoiselle Klein, then leave? He is so obviously in love with her.
I know, you can totally tell, he is always bringing her lattes from Ho’s. What is THAT about, if not luv? Wahim will be devastated if they start going out.
Yeah, but why would she choose Mr. Wheeton over Wahim? Wahim has all those muscles. Not to mention a gun.