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Lilly didn’t look very sympathetic. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” she said. “You’re more apathetic than the rest of this school. You’re worse than the ninth graders!”
“Lilly,” I said. “I totally think you could win, without my help. I mean, for one thing, think about it—you’d be running unopposed.”
“You know I wouldn’t get fifty percent of the vote,” Lilly said through gritted teeth. “Why can’t you just run and step down, like you were SUPPOSED to do last year?”
“Because my boyfriend is leaving this country for a whole year in THREE DAYS,” I practically yelled, causing Mrs. Hill to glance up from her Isabella Bird catalog. I lowered my voice. “And I want to spend as much time as I can with him until then. Which means I DON’T want to be spending my evenings writing speeches and making Mia for President signs.”
“I’ll write the speeches,” Lilly said, her teeth still gritted. “And I’ll make the signs. You just do what you were supposed to last year, and step down like you said you were going to.”
“Oh, God, whatever,” I said, just to get her off my back. “FINE.”
“FINE,” Lilly said back.
And then it occurred to me that I was letting a golden opportunity slip through my fingers, and I added, “ON ONE CONDITION.”
And Lilly was like, “What?”
“You have to tell me if you and J.P. Did It over the summer.”
Lilly just glared at me for a while. Then, finally, like it was this supreme sacrifice, she said, “All right. I’ll tell you. AFTER the election.”
Which was fine with me. So long as I get to find out.
I don’t know why it’s so interesting to me. But, I mean, if my best friend has had sex, I think I should be allowed to hear about it. In detail. Especially considering the fact that I’m not going to be able even to SMELL my boyfriend for the coming year, and will have to live vicariously through Lilly’s romance.
Although she once told me she doesn’t go around smelling J.P.’s neck and thinks it’s very weird that I smell Michael’s all the time.
More than likely Lilly’s vomeronasal organ—her auxiliary olfactory sense organ—regressed during gestation like most humans’ do. Mine obviously didn’t.
Which is just another example of what a biological sport I am.
Mrs. Hill just asked me what I plan on doing in class this year. So I was forced to tell her about my practice PSAT math score.
Now she’s got me doing practice problems from the Official SAT Study Guide.
I think that this, coupled with the rest of the events in the past twenty-four hours of my life, pretty much proves that God does not exist.
Or that if He does, He is supremely indifferent to my suffering.
Jill bought five apples at the grocery store. She paid with a five-dollar bill and received three quarters in change. Jill realized she’d received too much change, and gave back one of the quarters. How much did the apples cost?
WHATEVER. That is what debit cards are for. Okay, let’s move on.
What is the least positive integer divisible by the numbers 2, 3, 4, and 5?
Oh, right. Like I know. Okay, next:
The weight of the cookies in a box of 100 cookies is 8 ounces. What is the weight, in ounces, of three cookies?
WHY DO I NEED TO KNOW THIS IF ALL I’M GOING TO BE DOING SOMEDAY IS RUNNING A COUNTRY AND WILL HAVE MY OWN ROYAL ACCOUNTANTS? WHY WHY WHY???? IT ISN’T FAIR!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, September 8, Chemistry
Mia—Is it true? Michael is going to Tsukuba for a year to work on a robotic device that could put an end to open-heart surgery?
Oh, God. Here we go. Tina insists Kenny is still in love with me—even after all this time—but I’ve always told her she is confusing her Harlequin romance novels with real life again.
But maybe I was being unnecessarily harsh. Maybe she’s RIGHT. Because why else would he be so interested in my current dating status????
