By the Time You Read This by Lola Jaye Page A

you’ll end up together anyway. Only, later. Much later. When you’re, like, thirty-six? Okay, thirty.
    I couldn’t wait for school to start in just over twelve hours, so I phoned Carla right away with the news.
    Mom appeared as soon as I replaced the receiver.
    “You see each other every day and she lives next door. Why do you have to phone her? I’m not made of money, you know,” she moaned, dressed in an old nightie and clutching a mug of cocoa.
    “There’s loads to talk about, Mom. You wouldn’t understand!” I stressed.
    “Did you have a nice time tonight?”
    “What?” I asked coyly.
    “I guessed you were meeting a boy.”
    I felt myself blush with embarrassment. “Just a friend, Mom.”
    “Corey’s a friend. This was a date, wasn’t it?”
    Suddenly, I longed to jump into bed and escape this unwelcome interrogation.
    “Not really. Mom, I’m really tired.”
    “Okay, love. But you know you can talk to me about…anything.”
    “Yes.” I was already hiding under the covers.
    “And feel free to bring him round. Perhaps I could make us all some tea. Snapper and rice?”
    Knowing I’d rather boil my own toe, I nodded a quick agreement and raced upstairs to dream about Mickey rescuing me from a pack of green dinosaurs.
     
    A t school, Carla and I gossiped heavily about my date and then replayed it all back at hers that evening.
    “This is sooo cool!” enthused Carla.
    “I know!”
    “You know what?” asked Corey, who since leaving schoolseemed to have embraced maturity overnight. His walk strayed from anxious gorilla to masculine strut, and he now wore his jeans straight.
    “None of your biz!” I said.
    “Oh, go on!” he whined, sounding like a five-year-old all over again.
    “Lois has a boyfriend!” blabbed Carla.
    I stamped on her foot.
    “Ow!”
    “Who?” Corey asked.
    “Why?”
    “Want to see if I know him,” replied Corey.
    “You don’t, so mind your biz!”
    “I was only wondering…that’s all!”
    “Wondering what?” questioned Carla.
    “If he’s a jerk or not.”
    As soon as he left, Carla and I resumed our gossiping. It felt so great to have something in common with my best friend again. And as time went on, I began to enjoy this more than the company of Mickey Mills, who on closer inspection had really bad breath. I knew I’d never kiss him and was glad when he finally dumped me, citing my refusal to “french him” as strong-enough grounds.

there’s a good way and a bad way to do it
    Kevin Trivia: The best thing to happen to me the year I turned seventeen? Watching Pele’s amazing opening goal against Italy. What a match!
     
    To leave or not to leave?
    You probably hate school and can’t wait to be released from the shackles of all those rules, not to mention the revolting school dinners. But please, Lowey, really think about staying on at sixth form or going to college. Get those extra grades. Remember, it’s all about having choices.
    Sixth Form College represented a change of scenery, and with it a handful of perks. Top of the list: no school uniform, plus daily access to some really cool guys. Not thatany were ever interested in me. It had been and would always be my best friend Carla who enticed the hungry crowds. She’d grown into something quite special too—if you liked slim waists, large breasts and a sassy Jessica Rabbit walk just to top it all off. Even Mr. Tally had started to look at her funny as he weighed out a quarter bag of cola cubes. While I preferred to live in my jeans, Carla’s Daisy Duke’s (i.e. the tiniest shorts ever) seemed to be in constant competition with her bum cheeks, so it was hardly surprising when she got together with Antoine Richards, a smooth guy from the upper sixth, proceeding to spend most if not all of her spare time with him. Again, I got used to this and it failed to niggle away at me until I called round one day and Corey answered the door.
    “She’s out with some boy,” he offered. I hadn’t seen him