“You said you saw Lilly and a NINJA making out,” I said. “Not KENNY. Kenny Showalter is not a ninja.”

“No,” Lana said as she chewed her tuna-avocado roll—which she has specially delivered every day for lunch since the caf doesn’t do sushi. “It was definitely that guy over there.”

“Totally,” Trisha said. “I’d recognize that bulbous Adam’s apple anywhere. It was bobbing all over the place.”

Tina and I looked at each other in shock. Then Tina swung an accusing glare at her boyfriend.

“Boris,” she said. “Was the guy Lilly was making out with in her kitchen KENNY?”

Boris looked uncomfortable. “It was hard to tell,” he said. “His back was to me. And all those muay thai fighters looked the same with their shirts off.”

“Oh my God!” Tina cried. “Itwas Kenny! Boris! You got Mia all upset for nothing, thinking Lilly was hooking up with a random strange muay thai fighter in her despair over J.P. dumping her, when really it was Kenny all along!”

“I didn’t dump her!” J.P. insisted.

But Boris just looked bored. “Who cares?” he wanted to know. “When are things going to go back tonormal around here?”

On the wordnormal , he looked over at Lana and Trisha.

No one, of course, noticed. Except for J.P., who smiled at me. J.P. reallydoes have a nice smile.

Not that that has anything to do with any of this.

Anyway, at first I was like, “But Lilly could so easily break Kenny’s neck with her thighs, like Daryl Hannah inBlade Runner .”

But then I remembered how Kenny’s been bulking up with all that muay thai fighting.

So. I’m happy for her. I really am. I mean, if she’s happy, I’m happy.

But still. KENNY SHOWALTER????????

Wednesday, September 22, Chemistry

I don’t care about the ban on my writing in class: I HAVE to get this down.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I HAD to ask Kenny what was going on with him and Lilly.

So I just went, “Kenny. Is it true about you and Lilly going out? Because if so I want you to know, I think you guys make a really nice couple.”

(Lie. But since when do I ever tell the truth?)

Anyway, Kenny totally didn’t seem to appreciate my kind remarks. He went, “Mia! Do you mind? I’m in the acid neutralization phase!”

So then I was like, “Fine, sorry I said anything,” and went back to my stool to write this.

And then a second ago J.P. sat down next to me and was like, “So, am I in the clear now?”

And I was like, “In the clear for what?”

And he was like, “Breaking Lilly’s heart. Now that she’s learned to love again, as Tina would put it.”

So I laughed and said, “J.P., whatever, I never blamed you for what happened between you and Lilly. You can’t help it if you didn’t feel the same way about her that she felt about you.”

Although he could probably have helped by not leading her on for so long. But I didn’t add that part out loud.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Mia,” J.P. said. “Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now, and every time I start to, something seems to happen to interrupt me, so I’m just going to say it now, even though this might not be the ideal mo———————————————————”

Wednesday, September 22, East Seventy-fifth Street AEHS evacuation rendezvous

Oh my God.

Oh my God. J.P. is in love with me.

And we blew up the school.

Wednesday, September 22, Lenox Hill Hospital emergency room

To tell you the truth, I didn’t know which to write first back then.

I mean, I don’t know which is more upsetting—that it turns out J.P. has fallen in love with me, or that we all nearly died from Kenny’s experiment, in which he was trying to recreate—unbeknownst to the rest of us—a substance formerly used as filler in hand grenades during World War II, with a very high deflagration point, which means, in English, that it’s very unstable and BLOWS UP A LOT.

And we weren’t even supposed to be making it! Mr. Hipskin didn’t realize that’s what we were doing because Kenny told him we were making nitrocellulose, which is flash paper similar to what’s used in film.

Not nitrostarch, which is an EXPLOSIVE!

The emergency room nurse keeps assuring me that Kenny’s eyebrows will grow back someday.

I was much luckier. I’m here in the ER under protest—there’s nothing actually wrong with me. They just sent me here to avoid a lawsuit, I’m sure. I mean, I only had the wind knocked out of me. That’s because just before deflagration occurred, when Kenny yelled, “Everybody get down!” J.P. threw me off my stool and flattened his body over mine, so all the flaming debris landed on him and not me.

Which, I might add, was right after he’d said, “Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now, and every time I start to, something seems to happen to interrupt me, so I’m just going to say it now, even though this might not be the ideal moment. And I know you’re going to freak out now, because that’s what you do. So put down your pen and take a deep breath.”

This is when his blue eyes locked on to my gray ones and he said, super intently and without looking away, “Mia, I’m in love with you. I know up until now we’ve just been friends—good friends—but I want more than that. And I think you do, too.”

It was right then that Kenny yelled to get down. And that J.P. threw himself at me.

Fortunately for J.P., Lars was ON IT with the fire extinguisher—I guess to make up for not being the one to throw himself over me, which is, after all, his job, and not J.P.’s—and put out the flames that erupted on the back of J.P.’s sweater. He didn’t even get burned, because our school uniforms are made of so many unnatural fibers, most of which are flame retardant.

So no flames actually ever touched J.P.’s skin. Just his V-neck.

All of us had to flee a cloud of billowing nitrogen dioxide vapor, though. And not just in our Chem class, either. The whole school.

Good thing it wasn’t freezing outside (some kind of cold front has come down from Canada, making the city unseasonably cool for September), and none of us had our coats, or anything. Not.

One of the nurses just came in and said the whole thing was on New York One—a live shot from a helicopter of everyone standing outside Albert Einstein High shivering, with the fire trucks and ambulances all flashing their lights and everything.

Only three people were actually taken to the hospital, though: J.P., Kenny, and me.

Principal Gupta caught me just before they closed the ambulance doors. She was all, “Mia, I want to give you my sincerest assurances that I intend to get to the bottom of this matter. Mr. Showalter willnot go unpunished….”

I pointed out that having no eyebrows is punishment enough, if you ask me. But Principal Gupta had already moved on to J.P.’s ambulance to repeat the same thing.

Which was smart of her because I hear J.P.’s dad is TOTALLY litigious.

It’s funny that no one has said anything about the fact that J.P. and I were Kenny’s lab partners, and we certainly never tried to stop him from blowing up the school. Except that both of us are so bad at chemistry, we didn’t know what he was trying to do.

Of course, Kenny swears that destroying the Chem lab was never his goal. He claims he only wanted to figure out how a synthesis of nitrostarch could be performed in a lab setting. Also, that he doesn’t know how it got so out of control. He says it was perfectly stable just seconds before…and then WHAMMO.

Honestly, I’m kind of glad Kenny’s experiment conflagrated. Because it kept me from having to figure out how to respond to J.P.’s totally shocking announcement that he’s in love with me.

Which, frankly, I find really hard to believe. Considering the fact that just two weeks ago, he and Lilly were totally an item.

And, okay, it wasn’t as if they didn’t have problems. I mean, Lilly was pretty upset that J.P. never said, “Me, too” to her when she told him that she loved him.

But heexplained that. He explained that he never felt that way about her, and that’s why he broke up with her, because he realized it wasn’t fair to her. He did the right thing…even if she hates him for it now.

And me, too, for still being friendly with him.

But that doesn’t mean—despite Tina’s insane theory about J.P. having always been in love with me and not Lilly from the beginning—that he reallywas in love with me that whole time. In fact, J.P. explained—as Lars was putting out the flames on his back—that his feelings for me had been coming on gradually, and he’d only decided to mention it because he couldn’t stand seeing me so sad about Michael.

“J.P.,” I’d gasped. It was hard to talk with all the breath knocked out of me. Also, given the toxic fumes. “We’ll discuss this later, okay?”

“But I really need to tell you now,” J.P. insisted.

“PRINCESS, RUN!” Lars was yelling. Because by then the cloud of noxious fumes was descending upon us.

Fortunately, since J.P. and I were taken away in separate ambulances, I had a chance to process this—sort of—and figure out what I’m going to do about it.

Which I’m pretty sure is nothing.

And yes, I know Dr. Knutz wouldn’t approve. He’d want me to do whatever scared me most.

Which, in this case, would be to date J.P.

But I can’t! I’m not ready! I’m barely broken up with my last long-term boyfriend—with whom I am still hopelessly in love! I can’t jump into another romantic relationship this soon!

Besides, I don’t feel that way about J.P. When I smell him, my oxytocin levels don’t rise. When I sniffed him the other night when he hugged me, I felt…nothing. All I smelled was dry-cleaning fluid.

Which is so not what I smell when Michael holds me, which is…well, okay, it’s just like soap and stuff.

But it’s not just ANY soap smell. It’s the special way Michael’s skin—and Michael’s skin alone—smells when he uses Dove unscented moisturizing beauty bar. That, and the detergent he uses on his shirts, combined with that particular Michael smell just makes…

…well, the best smell in the world.

I know it doesn’t make sense. But I’m just not sure I’m ready to move on from unscented Dove/detergent/Michael to…dry-cleaning fluid.

And what about HIM? What about J.P.? I mean, how much of this “love” thing is just a reaction to the discovery that Lilly has rebounded already with someone new? The timing is a little suspicious. I mean, we find out at lunch that Lilly and Kenny are an item, and all of a sudden, J.P. loves me? Come on!

And, okay, he says he’s been trying to tell me for a while…but I’m positive that can’t be true. Because up until very recently, I’ve been taken!

And J.P. knows I haven’t gotten over Michael yet. He has to know that the chances are I will NEVER get over Michael. At least, not for a long, long time. He wouldn’t be silly enough to fall in love with me knowing I could never return his feelings in that way….

Before senior year or so, anyway.

And, all right, J.P. does currently have a bit of a Dr. McDreamy quality about him, since the hospital has given him scrubs to change into since his sweater melted and his shirt is all scorched. So he looks pretty cute.

And he did save my life and all…

ACK! I am in no condition to deal with this right now! I just want to go home and get in my bed and try to sort out how I feel about all this!

Not the almost-getting-blown-up part.That part I can deal with. I mean, at this point, almost getting blown up is NOTHING compared to the humiliations I go through on a practically daily basis.

But the J.P.-loving-me part? It’s too weird! What could make him think I’d ever feel that way about him? Because I don’t!

At least, I think I don’t. I mean, I like him a lot. He’s one of my best friends—especially now that Lilly has dropped me.

But he’s not Michael.

He’s not Michael.

He’s not Michael.

Oh, here comes the doctor…

Wednesday, September 22, the loft

I’m home….

I don’t even care that I don’t have a TV anymore. It’s just so nice to be in my own bed, where no nitrostarches can explode, and no boys can announce their love for me.

You know, you would think, after everything that happened today, they’d finally let me move to Genovia and be palace-schooled now. For my ownphysical and emotional safety.

But no. Mr. G just informed me Albert Einstein is going to be cleaned up and fully functional tomorrow—including the Chem lab, which has been thoroughly fumigated,and they’ve already replaced the glass that was blown out of the windows (stupid emergency glaziers), and that I’m going to be there, just like everybody else.