But I’m trying to take all of my worries one at a time. Baby steps, like Rocky took when he was first starting to walk. Baby steps. First I need to get through lunch. Then I’ll worry about the polar ice caps.

Four more hours until I can get out of here.

Friday, September 17, Gifted and Talented

Great. So now I have another worry to add to the list:

Apparently, the entire school thinks J.P. and I are going out.

This is what happens when you are gone for almost a week after having a nervous breakdown and aren’t around to defend yourself.

Well, I guess it’s also what happens when you have your picture splattered all over the place coming out of a theater arm-in-arm with a guy. But he was only helping me down the steps! Because I was in heels! And the steps were carpeted and there were no handrails!

Geez!

And, okay, based on the photographic evidence, I could see why middle America—and the rest of the world, I guess—would think J.P. and I are going out.

Still! You’d think my own FRIENDS would know better than that!

But apparently not. And the line in the sand has already been drawn:

Lilly now sits at Kenny Showalter’s lunch table.

I guess their mutual appreciation for his muay thai fighting friends has drawn them together, or something.

Perin and Ling Su sit with them, although Ling Su told me, over at the taco bar, that she’d rather sit with me.

“But Lilly appointed me secretary,” she explained, sounding genuinely dismayed about it. “Which is better than treasurer, I guess”—this is definitely true, given what happened when Ling Su was treasurer last year—“which is what Lilly appointed Kenny. But it means I have to sit with her and Perin, who’s vice president, so we can talk about Lilly’s new initiatives, like this whole renting-the-roof-for-cell-phone-towers-in-exchange-for-free-laptops-for-scholarship-students thing, and how we’re going to guarantee more AEHS students get into the Ivy League school of their choice, and that kind of thing.”

“It’s okay, Ling Su,” I said to her, as I sprinkled cheddar cheese over my spicy beef tostada. “Really. I understand.”

“Good. And just for the record,” she added, “I think you and J.P. make an awesome couple. He’s so hot.”

“We’re not going out,” I said, totally confused.

“Right,” Ling Su said knowingly, and winked at me. Like she thought I was just saying that, in some kind of misguided attempt to stay on Lilly’s good side! Which would have been so totally futile, if that’s why I’d said it. But thatisn’t why I said it at all! I said it because it was true!

But Ling Su’s not the only one who thinks J.P. and I are an item. When I went to return my lunch tray, one of the cafeteria workers smiled at me and said, “Maybe you can get him to give our corn a try.”

At first I couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. Then, when I did, I totally started blushing. J.P.’s notorious hatred for corn! And she thoughtI could cure him of it? Oh, God!

At least J.P. doesn’t appear to realize what’s going on. Or, if he does know, he isn’t letting on. He seemedsurprised to see me show up at lunch for the first time all week, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it (thank God), the way Tina did, by squealing and hugging me and telling me how much she’d missed me.

Which was very nice, but sort of embarrassing, since it drew even more attention to the fact that I’ve been gone so long, and I’m totally tired of going, “Bronchitis,” when people ask me where I was all week. Because I can’t exactly go, “In my Hello Kitty pajamas in bed, refusing to get up after my boyfriend dumped me.”

The only thing J.P. did that was at all out of the ordinary was smile at me when there was nothing to smile about—Boris was actually going on about his hatred for emo, specifically My Chemical Romance, as he is wont to do. I was taking a big bite of my tostada (it’s amazing how, even though I’m totally depressed, I’m still eating like a horse. But whatever, I was starving; all I’d had to eat all day was a PowerBar I picked up at Ho’s Deli after my doctor’s appointment, on my way into school) and noticed J.P.’s smile—which, like Ling Su said, really is pretty hot—and went, “What?” with my mouth all full of chopped beef, cheddar cheese, salsa, sour cream, jalapeños, and shredded lettuce.

“Nothing,” J.P. said, still smiling. “I’m just glad you’re back. Don’t stay away so long again, okay?”

Which was nice of him. Especially considering the fact that he MUST know people are saying we’re an item.

Which would at least partially explain why Lilly is sticking so assiduously to her side of the G and T room. She won’t look at me—won’t speak to me—won’t let on that I even exist. To her, I’m apparently Hester Prynne fromThe Scarlet Letter.

Only the book, not the movie version in which Hester Prynne was played by Demi Moore and was semi-cool and blew stuff up. Oh, wait…that wasG.I. Jane.

I wish I could just go up to Lilly and be like, “Look. I’m SORRY. I’m sorry I was such an ass to your brother, and I’m sorry if I did anything to hurt you. But don’t you think I’ve been punished enough? I can barely BREATHE now because there’s NO POINT in breathing if I know that at the end of the day, I can’t smell your brother’s neck. All I can think about is how I will never, ever again hear the sound of his sarcastic laughter as we watchSouth Park together. Can you not see that it took every ounce of courage and strength I possess just to come here today? That I’m in THERAPY? That I spend every single second of the day wishing I were DEAD? So do you think you could drop the cold shoulder thing and cut me some slack? Because I really do value and miss your friendship. And by the way, do you really think hooking up with random muay thai fighters is the most mature way to respond to your heartache? Are you supposed to be Lana Weinberger, or something?”

Only I can’t. Because I don’t think I could bear to see that dead-eyed thing she does whenever she looks at me now.

Because I know that’s exactly how she’ll respond.

Friday, September 17, PE

I’m standing here, shaking.

Standing and not sitting because I’m in one of the ball-fields on the Great Lawn in Central Park. I guess I’m playing left outfield, or something, but it’s hard to tell with all the yelling.Get the ball! Get the ball!

As if.You get the ball, loser. Can’t you see I’m busy writing in my journal?

I totally should have made Dr. Fung give me a note to get me out of gym class. WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Because it’s not just thisGet the ball thing. I had to DISROBE in front of everybody. Which meant I had to lift up my sweater, and everyone saw the SAFETY PIN holding my skirt together.

I went, “Ha, ha, lost a button.”

But that explanation didn’t work for why, when I put on my gym shorts, they were SKIN TIGHT and gave me total camel toe. Thank God my gym tee was always a little too big to begin with. Now it fits just right.

As if all of that weren’t bad enough, somehow LANA WEINBERGER ended up being in the locker room when I was changing.

I don’t know what she was doing there since she doesn’t even have PE this period. I guess she didn’t like the way her hair was curling, or something, because she was giving herself another blow-out. Eva Braun, aka Trisha Hayes, was standing right next to her, filing her nails.

And, of course, even though I ducked my head instinctively as soon as I saw them, hoping they wouldn’t notice me, it was too late. Lana must have spied my reflection in the mirror she was gazing into, or something, because next thing I know, she’d switched the hair dryer off and was going, “Oh, there you are. Where haveyou been all week?”

LIKE SHE’D BEEN LOOKING FOR ME!

See, this is EXACTLY why I didn’t want to go back to school. I can’t deal with stuff like this on TOP of all the other stuff that’s going on. Seriously, my head is going to explode.

“Um,” I said. “Bronchitis.”

“Oh,” Lana said. “Well, about that letter you got from my mother—”

I closed my eyes. I actually CLOSED MY EYES because I knew what was coming next—or thought I did, anyway—and I didn’t think I was emotionally capable of dealing with it.

“Yes,” I said. And inside, I was thinking,Just say it. Whatever mean, bitter, humiliating thing you’re going to say, just say it, so I can get out of here. Please. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

“Thanks for saying yes,” was the completely astonishing thing Lana said, instead. “Because Angelina Jolie was supposed to do it, but she totally dropped out to play Mother Teresa in some new movie. Mom was driving me crazy, she was so frantic to find a replacement. So I suggested you. You gave that speech last year, you know, when we were both running for student council president. And it was kind of good. So I figured you’d be a decent sub for Angelina. So. Thanks.”

I’m not positive—we’ll have to check with seismologists worldwide—but I truly think at that moment, hell actually froze over.

Because Lana Weinberger said something nice to me.

That, of course, isn’t the part that makes me wish I’d gotten a note from Dr. Fung excusing me from PE today, however.

This next part is.

I was so astonished that Lana Weinberger was acting like a human being, that I couldn’t reply right away. I just stood there staring at her. Which unfortunately gave Trisha Hayes a chance to notice the safety pin holding my skirt closed.

And she’s way too savvy to believe the lost button excuse.

“Dude,” Trisha said. “You, like, totally need a new skirt.” Then her gaze flicked up toward my chest. “And a bigger bra.”

I could feel myself turning bright, bright red. It’s a good thing I have an appointment with a therapist after school today. Because we’re going to have SO much to talk about.

“I know,” I said. “I, um, need to go shopping.”

Which is when the next totally astounding thing happened. Lana turned back toward her reflection and, running her fingers through her now stick-straight hair, said, “We’re going to the lingerie trunk show at Bendel’s tomorrow. Wanna come with?”

“Dude, are you—”Insane was clearly what Trisha was going to ask.

But I saw Lana cut her a warning glance in the mirror, and just like Admiral Piett when he realized he’d let theMillennium Falcon get away right in front of Darth Vader, Trisha shut her mouth…though she looked scared.

I just stood there, not sure if any of this was really happening, or if it was a symptom of my depression. Maybe I have some form of depression where you hallucinate invitations to lingerie trunk shows at Bendel’s from cheerleaders who’ve always hated you. You never know.

When I didn’t reply right away, Lana turned around to face me. For once, she didn’t look snobby. She just looked…normal.

“Look,” she said. “I know you and I haven’t always gotten along, Mia. That thing with Josh…well, whatever. He was such a jerk sometimes. Plus, some of your friends are really…I mean, that Lilly girl—”

“Say no more,” I said, raising a hand. I wasn’t just saying it, either. Because I really meant it. I really didn’t want Lana to say anything more about Lilly. Who, it’s true, has been treating me like dirt lately.

But maybe I deserve to be treated like dirt.

“Yeah, well,” Lana went on. “I saw you weren’t sitting with her at lunch today.”

“We’re having,” I said stiffly, “a time-out.”

“Well, whatever,” Lana said. “You’re really bailing my mom out of a jam. And if you’re going to be in Domina Rei someday, like I will—with any luck—then I think we ought to let bygones be bygones. I mean, we’re hopefully a little more mature than we used to be, and can be grown-up about this. Don’t you think?”

I was so shocked I just nodded.

Instead of pointing out that it isn’t so much that Lana and I haven’t gotten along as that she’s been totally mean to some of my friends.

Instead of going, “For your information, I wouldn’t be in Domina Rei if you paid me.”

Instead of doing either of those things, I just stood there and nodded.

Because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. That’s how completely astonished I was by what was going on.

Or how crazy depressed I am about everything.

“Cool,” Lana said. “So tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, at Bendel’s. We’ll do lunch somewhere after. If you want. Come on, Trish. We gotta get to class.”

And, just like that, the two of them walked out……at almost the exact same time that Mrs. Potts came in and blew her whistle and told us to get in line to go to the park.