Well, she apologized, of course. What else COULD she do? Poor Perin turned BRIGHT RED. I felt so sorry for her!
That’s okay, Shameeka. We’ll ask him—I mean her—to sit with us at lunch today. I saw her sitting by herself all last week, over by the guy who hates it when they put corn in the chili. I really think she needs us.
Oh! That’s such a good idea! You’re so good at things like that. Knowing how to make people feel better. It’s kind of like—
What?
Well, I was going to say it’s kind of like you’re a princess, or something. But you ARE a princess! So, of course, you’re good at that kind of thing. It’s kind of like your job.
Yeah. It kind of is, isn’t it?
Monday, September 14, Principal Gupta’s office
You know what? I don’t even care. I don’t even care that I’m sitting here in the principal’s office.
I don’t care that Lana is sitting here beside me shooting me evil looks.
I don’t care that the lion head badge is hanging off my blazer by a few threads.
And I don’t care that the entire school is currently in the gym, waiting for us to arrive for our debate.
Where does she get off? That’s what I want to know. Lana, I mean. HOW DARE SHE??? It is one thing to pick on me, but it is QUITE another to pick on someone who is completely defenseless and not to mention NEW TO OUR SCHOOL.
If she thinks I’m going to stand idly by and just let her make fun of someone that way, she is sadly, sadly mistaken. Well, I suppose she realizes that, seeing as how I’m still holding a chunk of her hair. Although, I guess it’s not actually her hair, since it turned out to be a clip-on extension braid she’d added to show her school spirit (it’s a blue ribbon braided into a lock of fake blond hair).
Which would explain why it came out so easily in my hand when I lunged at her, intent on ripping out every strand of hair on her stupid head, after she told me to mind my own business and ripped off my AEHS Lions sew-on patch.
Still. I hope it hurt.
The sad thing is, she doesn’t know how lucky she is. I’d have inflicted a lot more damage if Lars and Perin hadn’t held me back.
Perin may have turned out to be a girl, but she’s a surprisingly strong one.
She’s also very well-mannered. As Principal Gupta was dragging me off to her office, I heard Perin call, “Thank you, Mia!”
And although I may be mistaken in this—I was still in a rage-fueled frenzy—I think a few people even applauded.
Except, of course, it would never occur to Principal Gupta that Lana might have done anything wrong. Please! She thinks the reason I lunged at Lana was “nerves” over the debate. Yeah, that’s right, Principal Gupta. It was nerves, all right. It had NOTHING to do with the fact that as we were coming out of French, Lana walked by, and leaned over to Perin and said, “HERMAPHRODITE.”
Or that I, in response, told Lana to shut her stupid mouth.
Or that Lana, in retaliation, reached out and yanked off my AEHS lion patch.
The part where I, totally instinctively, yanked off Lana’s clip-on braid was the only part Principal Gupta heard about.
Principal Gupta says I’m lucky she doesn’t suspend me on the spot. She says the only reason she’s not is because she knows I have a lot of problems at home right now (HELLO??? WHAT IS SHE TALKING ABOUT? THE SNAILS? THE FACT THAT I’M A BABY-LICKER? THAT MY BOYFRIEND WANTS TO DO IT SOMEDAY? WHAT?????).
She says she thinks it would be better for Lana and me to take out our differences with each other in a more civilized manner than brawling in the second-floor hallway. She’s making us go through with the debate after all. She says, “Mia, will you please lift your head out of that journal and pay attention to what I’m saying?”
Geez. What does she THINK I’m writing about? Star Wars fan fic?
Lana’s laughing, of course.
I don’t think she’d be laughing quite so hard if she found out that I happen to be named after someone who cut off another person’s head with an axe.
Monday, September 14, the gym
Oh, God. How did I ever get into this? They’re ALL here. All ONE THOUSAND students at Albert Einstein High School, grades nine through twelve, sitting there in the bleachers in front of me, LOOKING at me, STARING at me, because there’s nothing else to stare at, except for Lana and the two podiums and this potted palm they pulled out to make it look homier or something—or maybe to provide me with oxygen if I start to pass out—and Principal Gupta, standing in between our two folding chairs like a referee at a prize