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“Tell Sebastiano,” Sebastiano urged me. “Tell Sebastiano why this boy help you, if he no like you.”
I sighed. “Because I’m his little sister’s best friend,” I said sadly. Really, could there be anything more humiliating? I mean, clearly Michael has never been impressed with my keen intellect or ravishing good looks, given my low grade-point average and of course my gigantism.
Sebastiano tugged on my sleeve and went, “You no worry. I make dress for dance, this boy, he no think of you as little sister’s best friend.”
Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Why must all my relatives be so weird?
Anyway, we picked out what I’m going to wear on Genovian national TV during my introduction. It’s this white taffeta job with a huge poufy skirt and this light blue sash (the royal colors are blue and white). But Sebastiano had one of his assistants take photos of me in all the dresses, so I can
see how I looked in them and then decide. I thought this was fairly professional for a guy who calls breakfast “breck.”
But all that isn’t what I want to write about. I’m so tired, I hardly know what I’m doing. What I want to write about is what happened today after Algebra review.
Which was that Mr. Gianini, after everyone but me had left, went, “Mia, I heard a rumor that there was supposed to have been some kind of student walkout today. Had you heard that?”
Me: (freezing in my seat) Um, no.
Mr. Gianini: Oh. So you wouldn’t know then if somebody—maybe in protest of the protest—threw the second-floor fire alarm? The one by the drinking fountain?
Me: (wishing Lars would stop coughing suggestively) Um, no.
Mr. Gianini: That’s what I thought. Because you know the penalty for pulling one of the fire alarms—when there is, in fact, no sign of a fire—is expulsion.
Me: Oh, yes. I know that.
Mr. Gianini: I thought you might have seen who did it, since I believe I gave you a hall pass shortly before the alarm went off.
Me: Oh, no. I didn’t see anybody.
Except Justin Baxendale, and his smoky eyelashes. But I didn’t say that.
Mr. Gianini: I didn’t think so. Oh, well. If you ever hear who did it, maybe you could tell her from me never to do it again.
Me: Um. Okay.
Mr. Gianini: And tell her thanks from me, too. The last thing we need right now, with tensions running so high over finals, is a student walkout. (Mr. Gianini picked up his briefcase and jacket.) See you at home.
Then he winked at me. WINKED at me, like he knew I was the one who’d done it. But he couldn’t know. I mean, he doesn’t know about my nostrils (which were fully flaring the whole time; I could feel them!) Right? RIGHT????
Thursday, December 11, Homeroom
Lilly is going to drive me crazy.
Seriously. Like it’s not enough I have finals and my introduction to Genovia and my love life and everything to worry about. I have to listen to Lilly complain about how the administration of Albert Einstein High is out to get her. The whole way to school this morning she just droned on and on about how it’s all a plot to silence her because she once complained about the Coke machine outside the gym. Apparently the Coke machine is indicative of the administration’s efforts to turn us all into mindless soda-drinking, Gap-wearing clones, in Lilly’s opinion.
If you ask me, this isn’t really about Coke, or the attempts by the school’s administration to turn us into mindless pod-people. It’s really just because Lilly’s still mad she can’t use a chapter of the book she’s writing on the high-school experience as her term paper.
I reminded Lilly if she doesn’t submit a new topic, she’s going to get an F as her nine-week grade. Factored in with her A for the last nine weeks, that’s only like a C, which will significantly lower her grade-point average, and put her chances of getting into Berkeley, which is her first-choice school, at risk. She may be forced to fall back on her safety school, Brown, which I know would be quite a blow.
She didn’t even listen to me. She says she’s having an organizational meeting of this new group (of which she is president) Students Against the Corporatization of Albert Einstein High School (SACAEHS) on Saturday, and I have to come, because I am the group’s secretary. Don’t ask me how that happened. Lilly says I write everything down anyway, so it shouldn’t be any trouble for me.
I wish Michael had been there to protect me from his sister, but like he has every day this week, he took the subway to school early so he could work on his project for the Winter Carnival.
I wouldn’t doubt Judith Gershner has been showing up to school on the early side, too, this week.
Speaking of whom, I picked up another greeting card, this one from the Plaza gift shop on the way to Sebastiano’s showroom last night. It’s a lot better than that stupid one with the strawberry. This one has a picture of a lady holding a finger to her lips. Inside, it says, Shhhh . . .
Under that, I am having Tina write:
