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Okay. Not a date.
But we’d be sitting beside each other in a darkened room! That counted for something. And Rocky Horror is sort of scary, so if I reached over and grabbed him, it might be okay.
FTLOUIE: Sure, that sounds . . .
Then I remembered. Friday night was Halloween, all right. But it was also the night of my mom’s royal wedding! I mean, if Grandmère gets her way.
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nbsp; FTLOUIE: Can I get back to you? I may have a family obligation that evening.
CRACKING: Sure. Just let me know. Well, see you tomorrow.
FTLOUIE: Yeah. I can’t wait.
CRACKING: Don’t worry. You were telling the truth. You can’t get in trouble for telling the truth.
Ha! That’s what he thinks. There’s a reason I lie all the time, you know.
TOP FIVE BEST THINGS ABOUT BEING IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER
1. Get to see him in his natural environment, not just at school, thus allowing you access to vital information, like difference between his “school” personality and real personality.
2. Get to see him without a shirt on.
3. Get to see him all the time.
4. Get to see how he treats his mother/sister/housekeeper (critical clues as to how he will treat any prospective girlfriend).
5. Convenient: You can hang out with your friend and spy on the object of your affections at the same time.
TOP FIVE WORST THINGS ABOUT BEING IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER
1. Can’t tell her.
2. Can’t tell him, because he might tell her.
3. Can’t tell anyone else, because they might tell him, or worse, her.
4. He will never admit to his true feelings because you are his little sister’s best friend.
5. You are continuously thrust into his presence, knowing that he will never think of you as anything but his little sister’s best friend for as long as you live, and yet you continue to pine for him until every fiber of your being cries out for him and you think you are probably going to die even though your Biology teacher says it is physiologically impossible to die from a broken heart.
Tuesday, October 28, Principal Gupta’s office
Oh, God! No sooner had I set foot in Homeroom today than I was summoned to the principal’s office!
I was hoping it was so that she could make sure I’m not carrying any contraband cough syrup, but it’s more likely because of what I said last night on TV. Particularly, I would guess, the part about how divisive and clique-ridden it is around here.
Meanwhile, all the other people in this school who have never been invited to a party given by a popular kid have rallied around me. It’s like I’ve struck a blow for dweebs everywhere, or something. The minute I walked into school today, the hip-hoppers, the brainiacs, the drama freaks, they were all, “Hey! Tell it like it is, sistah.”
No one’s ever called me sistah before. It is somewhat invigorating.
Only the cheerleaders treat me the way they always have. As I walk down the hall, their eyes flick over me, from the top of my head all the way down to my shoes. And then they whisper to each other and laugh.
Well, I suppose it is amusing to see a five-foot-nine, flat-chested amazon like myself roaming loose in the halls. I’m surprised no one has thrown a net over me and hauled me off to the Natural History Museum.
Of my own friends, only Lilly—and Shameeka, of course—aren’t entirely thrilled with last night’s performance. Lilly’s still unhappy about my spilling the beans about the socioeconomic division of our school population. Not unhappy enough to turn down a ride to school in my limo this morning, however.
