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Michael
Inside the envelope with the letter was a little Princess Leia action figure USB flash drive. For me to store my novel on, since he was right—I never back up my computer’s hard drive.
The sight of it—it’s Princess Leia in her Hoth outfit, my favorite of her costumes (how had he remembered?)—brought tears to my eyes.
He said he liked my book!
He said I’m the Stephen King of my genre!
He gave me a personally designed USB flash drive to store it so it wouldn’t get lost!
Really, is there any higher compliment a boy can give a girl?
I don’t think so.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a nicer birthday gift.
Except Fat Louie, of course.
Plus…he signed his letter Love.
Love, Michael.
That doesn’t mean anything, of course. People sign things Love all the time. That doesn’t mean they love you in a romantic way. My mom signs all her notes to me Love, Mom. Mr. G writes notes to me and signs them Love, Frank (which, ew).
But still. The fact that he wrote the word…
Love. Love!
Oh my God. I know. I’m pathetic.
A pathetic unicorn.
Monday, May 1, World History
I just saw J.P. in the hallway. He gave me a great big hug and a kiss and wished me a happy birthday and told me I look beautiful. (I happen to know I don’t look beautiful. I look awful, actually. I was up half the night writing the article on Michael so there are dark circles under my eyes that I tried to hide with concealer, but really, there’s only so much concealer can do. And I was up the other half of the night freaking out over what Tina told me about her and Boris, and then worrying about what Michael’s and J.P.’s reactions to my book were going to be.)
Maybe to J.P. I look beautiful because I’m his girlfriend. J.P. just likes me too much to notice that I am, in fact, a unicorn (but not one of those beautiful ones with the long silky manes from fairy tales. I’m one of those screwed-up plastic toy unicorns that Emma, Rocky’s friend from day care, plays with, that My Little Pony unicorn with the bald patches whose head gets sucked on all the time by the little kids).
I waited for J.P. to tell me he’d read my book and liked it, the way Michael did in his letter, but he didn’t.
He didn’t mention my book at all, as a matter of fact.
I guess he still hasn’t gotten around to it. He does have his play, and all. It’s getting close to opening night, when he has to put it on for the senior project committee (Wednesday night).
But still. You’d have thought he’d have said something.
All J.P. told me was not to expect my present from him just yet. He says he’s giving it to me tonight, at my party. He says it’s going to blow me away. He says he hasn’t forgotten about the prom, either.
Which is funny, because I certainly have.
Anyway, still no sign of Tina, Shameeka, Lana, or Trisha anywhere. I did see Perin and Ling Su, though, and they both wished me a happy birthday. But then they ran off, giggling madly, which is completely unlike them.
So, that about cinches it: They’ve totally read my book, and hated it. The intervention will probably be at lunch.
I can’t believe Tina would do that—send around copies of it without asking me.
I mean it is reading day in preparation for finals so there’s nothing to do in class BUT read. Obviously, it’s a perfect time for people to be reading my book.
