Superior! She doesn’t talk to him for over a year, but she tells me to. I told her, “You butt into my room, you butt into my problems with Dad, and you butted into my journal.” She says, “I didn’t butt in about Dad. You were the one who called me last Sunday.” Which is technically right.
I go, “What about my journal? You sure butted into that.” She’s like, “What?” Her face got all pink and she looked up at the ceiling. I should give her lying lessons, she’s so pathetic at it. So I said, “That stuff you told Dad you could only know from reading my journal.”
And then she did a half-assed apology. She said she could barely help it. She said I’m so quiet she never knows what’s going on with me. Like it’s my fault she read my journal.
Still, I sort of relate. Though I wouldn’t tell Amanda that. If she had a journal, I bet I’d be all over it. Hey, maybe she does have one. I should search her room.
We ended up having a big heart-to-heart. Totally cheesy. It’s embarrassing how much I liked it.
Amanda’s pretty smart, I guess. First of all, she explained that Gina’s being pressured to have sex. Now that I think about it, it’s obvious. The Incredible Hunk must always be trying to devirginize her. Then I had to make that joke and try to rush her in Scrabble and that’s why Gina freaked out.
Hunk’s such a jerk. She’s only 14. I hope she doesn’t give in. He’s so hulky and hairy. He’d probably crush her. She’d probably never want to have sex again. It’s too sick. I can’t even think about it.
Amanda also tried to convince me how bad it is being popular. How everyone’s really phony and all people talk about are looks and clothes and being popular. If it’s so bad, then why does everyone want to be popular? You never see the A-list people asking if they can eat at the nerd table, or sitting by themselves at lunch. It is an option.
She even tried to complain about being pretty, how people don’t appreciate anything else about you. I sort of get it, but on the other hand, I’m dorky-looking and people still don’t appreciate anything about me. Amanda gave good advice about Gina, but if she thinks I’m all happy now about being unpopular and funny looking, she’s definitely wrong.
She also listened to my report 4 times and gave me lots of tips. Since I know she can’t read my journal anymore, I can write that it’s good to have her around sometimes.
Monday, November 8
I’m so psyched! My poetry report went really well. Ms. Dore said I had an ear for poetry. Awesome. Sydney Holland told me she heard I did a great job. And she’s not even in my English class. Maybe I’ve just got the Captain Sensitive rep now. It beats being called Storky.
I’m glad Duke helped me find a short poem without all that old English. Good old Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken.” Mark Gillespi did a Shakespeare sonnet with all these thous and thines , and I had no clue what he was talking about.
Nate went up right after me and totally choked. First he said his poem so quietly that Ms. Dore made him stop and do it over louder. The second time he talked a little louder, but started shaking. Even his voice shook. Painful. When he finished, the whole class was still, like everyone was embarrassed. Then I really felt sorry for him.
He left class as soon as the bell rang. I don’t know where he went. I was so fired up at lunchtime I raced over to Amanda on the senior lawn. This is how wacked school is: if you touch the lawn and you’re not a senior, they throw you in the Dumpster. So I had to stand on the concrete, shouting to Amanda like a squid.
She comes by with her best friend, Bulimic Michele, and I tell her I aced the report. I just wanted to thank her for her help. She gave me this look that could chill a polar bear, and goes, “I thought it was an emergency the way you geeked out.” The whole time, Bulimic Michele won’t even glance in my direction. Then they rush back to
I go, “What about my journal? You sure butted into that.” She’s like, “What?” Her face got all pink and she looked up at the ceiling. I should give her lying lessons, she’s so pathetic at it. So I said, “That stuff you told Dad you could only know from reading my journal.”
And then she did a half-assed apology. She said she could barely help it. She said I’m so quiet she never knows what’s going on with me. Like it’s my fault she read my journal.
Still, I sort of relate. Though I wouldn’t tell Amanda that. If she had a journal, I bet I’d be all over it. Hey, maybe she does have one. I should search her room.
We ended up having a big heart-to-heart. Totally cheesy. It’s embarrassing how much I liked it.
Amanda’s pretty smart, I guess. First of all, she explained that Gina’s being pressured to have sex. Now that I think about it, it’s obvious. The Incredible Hunk must always be trying to devirginize her. Then I had to make that joke and try to rush her in Scrabble and that’s why Gina freaked out.
Hunk’s such a jerk. She’s only 14. I hope she doesn’t give in. He’s so hulky and hairy. He’d probably crush her. She’d probably never want to have sex again. It’s too sick. I can’t even think about it.
Amanda also tried to convince me how bad it is being popular. How everyone’s really phony and all people talk about are looks and clothes and being popular. If it’s so bad, then why does everyone want to be popular? You never see the A-list people asking if they can eat at the nerd table, or sitting by themselves at lunch. It is an option.
She even tried to complain about being pretty, how people don’t appreciate anything else about you. I sort of get it, but on the other hand, I’m dorky-looking and people still don’t appreciate anything about me. Amanda gave good advice about Gina, but if she thinks I’m all happy now about being unpopular and funny looking, she’s definitely wrong.
She also listened to my report 4 times and gave me lots of tips. Since I know she can’t read my journal anymore, I can write that it’s good to have her around sometimes.
Monday, November 8
I’m so psyched! My poetry report went really well. Ms. Dore said I had an ear for poetry. Awesome. Sydney Holland told me she heard I did a great job. And she’s not even in my English class. Maybe I’ve just got the Captain Sensitive rep now. It beats being called Storky.
I’m glad Duke helped me find a short poem without all that old English. Good old Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken.” Mark Gillespi did a Shakespeare sonnet with all these thous and thines , and I had no clue what he was talking about.
Nate went up right after me and totally choked. First he said his poem so quietly that Ms. Dore made him stop and do it over louder. The second time he talked a little louder, but started shaking. Even his voice shook. Painful. When he finished, the whole class was still, like everyone was embarrassed. Then I really felt sorry for him.
He left class as soon as the bell rang. I don’t know where he went. I was so fired up at lunchtime I raced over to Amanda on the senior lawn. This is how wacked school is: if you touch the lawn and you’re not a senior, they throw you in the Dumpster. So I had to stand on the concrete, shouting to Amanda like a squid.
She comes by with her best friend, Bulimic Michele, and I tell her I aced the report. I just wanted to thank her for her help. She gave me this look that could chill a polar bear, and goes, “I thought it was an emergency the way you geeked out.” The whole time, Bulimic Michele won’t even glance in my direction. Then they rush back to
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