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ILUVROMANCE: Mia, is it true your grandmother is having a party and all these celebrities are going to be there?
FTLOUIE: Yes. Which one do you want to meet?
ILUVROMANCE: I don’t care! ANY celebrity is fine with me!
FTLOUIE: Done. Be there or be square.
ILUVROMANCE: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! CELEBRITIES!!! I’M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then, finally, Lilly:
WOMYNRULE: Hey! What’s this I hear about your grandma inviting Benazir Bhutto to some party next Wednesday night?
Whoa. Not Benazir, too. What’s she bidding on? Faux Pakistan?
FTLOUIE: You want to come and meet her?
WOMYNRULE: You know I do. She and I have a few things I need to discuss. Primarily her support of the Taliban for all those years.
FTLOUIE: Be my guest.
WOMYNRULE: Rockin’. See ya tomorrow, POG.
I guess all that stuff I wrote to Carl Jung about—you know, being the president of my student government, but still super unpopular—turns out not to be true. I’m QUITE popular.
Thanks to my GRANDMA.
Thursday, March 4, Homeroom
I’m going to kill her.
I told her NO. I specifically, and definitively, said NO to her.
How can she do this to me?
Again?
Thursday, March 4, PE
Seriously. How did she even DO it? I mean, so fast?
And they’re everywhere, of course. The walls are plastered with them. I opened my locker, and one popped out into my hand.
SHE STUFFED THEM INTO EVERYONE’S LOCKER.
That had to have taken HOURS. How did she do it? Who did she PAY to do it?
God. It could have been anyone. A teacher, even. They barely earn a living wage, after all. I know, I’ve seen Mr. G’s pay stubs lying around.
Everyone is walking around with one in their hand. A bright yellow flyer that says:
* * *
AUDITIONS TODAY, 3:30 P.M.
The Plaza Hotel, Grand Ballroom A brand-new, all-original show
Braid!
