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Which makes it no wonder Ms. Martinez despairs of my ever being a successful freelance writer or journalist.
But, seriously! How else can I put it? It was just…RANDOM.
And what was Lars THINKING? I told him to let NO ONE up. Except for Principal Gupta or a teacher, OBVIOUSLY.
So how did BORIS become exempt from that?
But sure enough, I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the next thing I knew, BORIS was there, all out of breath, like he’d been running.
At first I was worried he was going to tell me HE loves me, too (well, whatever, it’s amazing the things that start happening when you finally grow into a 36C).
But he just went, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but it’s not true.”
“What’s not true, Boris?” I asked him, totally confused.
“What Lilly just said,” he said. “About Michael being sick of you. I can’t tell you how I know. But I do.”
I smiled at him. Even though I was still in total despair and everything, I couldn’t help it. Really, Tina is so lucky. She has the most fantastic boyfriend in the entire world.
Fortunately, she knows it.
“Thanks, Boris,” I said, trying to wipe away my tears with my sleeve so I didn’t look like quite as much of a lunatic as I was pretty sure I did. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”
“I’m not being sweet,” Boris insisted earnestly, still panting from all the running around he’d been doing, looking for me. “I’m telling the truth. And you should write him back.”
I blinked at him, more confused than ever. “W-what? Write who back?”
“Michael,” Boris said. “He’s been e-mailing you, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, stunned. “But how did you—”
“You should write him back,” Boris said. “I mean, just because you’re broken up doesn’t mean you can’t be friends anymore. Isn’t that what you both agreed? That you’d still be friends?”
“Yes,” I said, bewildered. “But, Boris, how do you know he’s been e-mailing me? Did…did Tina tell you?”
Boris hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. That’s right, Tina told me.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, I can’t e-mail him back, Boris. I’m just…I’m not ready to be friends with him yet. It still hurts too much not to be more than friends.”
“Well,” Boris said. “I can understand that, I guess. But…you should e-mail him back as soon as you feel ready. So he doesn’t think?
?you know. That you hate him. Or that you’ve forgotten about him. Or whatever.”
As if THAT’S ever going to happen.
I assured Boris I’d e-mail Michael when I felt emotionally capable of doing so without falling apart and begging him in eighteen-point type to take me back.
Then Boris did the nicest thing. He volunteered to walk me to class (once I’d pulled myself together and gotten rid of the evidence of my tears…smeared mascara, snot down my nose, etc.).
So the three of us—Boris, Lars, and I—all got to G and T at the same time (late).
But it didn’t matter, since neither Mrs. Hill nor Lilly is here.
I suppose Lilly’s skipping to meet Kenny somewhere. They’re like a regular Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain. Minus the heroin. All Lilly needs is to start smoking, though, and maybe get a tattoo or two, she’ll have completely perfected her tough girl image.
Boris asked me one last time if I was all right, and when I said I thought I was, he slipped into the supply closet and started practicing my favorite Chopin piece of his.
Which has to have been on purpose. He’s so thoughtful.
