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It’s funny, because as I’m writing this, an instant message comes over my computer. It’s from Michael! He writes:
CRACKING: What was with you at school today? It was like you were off in this whole other world or something.
I write back:
FTLOUIE: I don’t have the slightest idea what you are talking about. Nothing is wrong with me. I’m totally fine.
I am such a liar.
CRACKING: Well, I got the impression that you didn’t hear a word that I said about negative slopes.
Since I found out my destiny is to rule a small European principality someday, I have been trying really hard to understand Algebra, as I know I will need it to balance the budget of Genovia, and all. So I have been attending review sessions every day after school, and during Gifted and Talented, Michael has been helping me a little, too.
It’s very hard to pay attention when Michael tutors me. This is because he smells really, really good.
How can I think about negative slopes when this guy I’ve had a major crush on since, oh, I don’t know—forever practically, is sitting there right next to me, smelling like soap and sometimes brushing my knee with his?
I reply:
FTLOUIE: I heard everything you said about negative slopes. Given slope m, +y-intercept (O,b) equation y+mx+b Slope-intercept.
CRACKING: WHAT???
FTLOUIE: Isn’t that right?
CRACKING: Did you copy that out of the back of the book?
Of course.
Uh-oh, my mom is at the door.
Still later on Monday
My mom came in. I thought Mr. G had left, so I went, “How’d it go?”
Then I saw she had tears in her eyes, so I went over and gave her this big hug.
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “You’ll always have me. I’ll help with everything, the midnight feedings, the diaper changing, everything. Even if it turns out to be a boy.”
My mom hugged me back, but it turned out she wasn’t crying because she was sad. She was crying because she was so happy.
“Oh, Mia,” she said. “We want you to be the first to know.”
Then she pulled me out into the living room. Mr. Gianini was standing there with this really dopey look on his face. Dopey happy.
I knew before she said it, but I pretended to be surprised anyway.
“We’re getting married!”
My mom pulled me into this big group hug between her and Mr. G.
It’s sort of weird to be hugged by your Algebra teacher. That’s all I have to say.
Tuesday, October 21, 1 a.m.
Hey, I thought my mom was a feminist who didn’t believe in the male hierarchy and was against the subjugation and obfuscation of the female identity that marriage necessarily entails.
At least, that’s what she always used to say when I asked her why she and my dad didn’t ever get married.
