I am not even supposed to be in Gifted and Talented at all, seeing as how I am neither. They only put me in there when it became clear I was flunking Algebra, so I have an extra period for independent study. I was supposed to be in Tech. Ed.
for that period. TECH. ED.! WHERE THEY MAKE YOU BUILD SPICE RACKS!
Second semester is Domestic Arts. IF I GET PUT IN DOMESTIC ARTS THIS SEMESTER INSTEAD OF GIFTED
AND TALENTED I WILL DIE!!!!!!!
Because I ended up getting a B minus in Algebra last semester. They don't give you independent study periods if you are making B minuses. B minus is considered good. Except, you know, to Greenpeace.
Oh, God, I knew it. I just KNEW something bad was going to happen if I didn't wear my Queen Amidala underwear.
So, if I'm not in G and T, then the only time I will see Michael will be at lunch and between classes. Because he is a senior,
and I am only a freshman, so it's not like I'll be in advanced calculus with him, or that he'll be in French 2 with me.
And I might not even be able to see him at lunch! We could conceivably not have the same lunch periods!
And even if we do, what is the likelihood that Michael and I are even going to sit together at lunch? Traditionally I have
always sat with Lilly or Tina, and Michael has always sat with the Computer Club and upperclassmen. Is he going to come
sit by rne now? No way can I go sit at his table. All those guys over there ever do is talk about things I don't understand,
like plasma screens and how easy it is to hack into India's missile defence system . . .
Oh, God, they are passing out the new class schedules now. Please don't let me be in Domestic Arts. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Tuesday, January 19,
Algebra
HA! My Queen Amidala underwear might be missing, but the power of the Force is with me nonetheless. My class schedule
is EXACTLY the same as last semester's, except that by some miracle I now have Bio. third period instead of World Civ.
(Oh, God, please don't let Kenny, my former Bio. partner and ex-boyfriend, have been switched to third period Bio., too). World Civ. is now seventh. And instead of PE fourth period, we all have Health and Safety.
And no Tech. Ed. or Domestic Arts, thank GOD!!!!! I don't know who told the administration that I am gifted and talented, but whoever it was, I am eternally grateful, and I will definitely try to live up to it.
I also happen to know that not only does Michael still have fifth period G and T, but he has the same lunch hour as I do, too.
I know that because after I got here to Algebra and had sat down and got out my notebook (I always seem to remember all
my notebooks on the first day of the semester. It is just the rest of the year I forget them) and my Algebra I-II textbook, Michael came in!
Yes, he came right into Mr G's second semester freshman Algebra class, like he belonged there, or something, and everyone was staring at him, including Lana Weinberger, because you know seniors don't generally just go walking into freshman
classes, unless they are working for the attendance office and bringing someone a hall pass or something.
But Michael doesn't work for the attendance office. He popped into Mr G's class just to see me. I know because he came
right up to my desk with his class schedule in his hand and went, 'What lunch have you got?' and I told him, A,' and he said, 'Same as me. You have G and T after?' and I said, 'Yes,' and he said, 'Cool, see you at lunch.'
Then he turned around and walked out again, looking all tall and collegiate with his Jansport backpack and New
Balances.
And the way he said, 'Hey, Mr G,' all casually to Mr Gianini - who was sitting at his desk with a cup of coffee in his hands
and his eyebrows all raised - as he went walking out.
Well, you just can't get cooler than that. And he had been in here to see me. ME, MIA THERMOPOLIS. Formerly the
most unpopular person in the entire school, with the exception of that guy who doesn't like corn in his chilli.
So now everyone who had not seen Michael and me kissing at the Non-Denominational Winter Dance knows that we are going out, because you don't walk into someone else's classroom between periods to look at their schedule unless you are dating.
I could feel all the gazes of my fellow Algebra sufferers boring into me, including Lana Weinberger's, even as the bell was ringing. You could practically hear everybody going, 'He's going out with her?'
And I guess it is a little hard to believe. I mean, even I can hardly believe it's true. Because of course it's common knowledge that Michael's the third best-looking boy in the whole school, after Josh Richter and Justin Baxendale (though if you ask me, having seen Michael plenty of times without a shirt on, he makes those other guys look like that Quasimodo dude), so what is he doing with me, a biological freak with feet the size of skis and no breasts to speak of and nostrils that flare when I lie?
Plus I am a lowly freshman, and Michael is a senior who has already been accepted early-decision to an Ivy League school right here in Manhattan. Plus Michael is co-valedictorian of his class, being a straight-A student, whereas I barely scraped by Algebra I. Plus Michael is way involved with extra-curriculars, including the Computer Club, Chess Club and Physics Club.
He designed the school's website. He can play, like, ten instruments. And now he is starting his own band.
Me? Yeah. I'm a princess.
And that's about it.
And that's only recently. Before I found out I was a princess, I was just this massive reject who was flunking Algebra and always had orange cat-hair all over her school uniform.
So yeah, I guess you could say that a lot of people were kind of surprised to see Michael Moscovitz come striding up to my desk in Algebra to compare class schedules. I could feel them all staring at me after he left and the bell rang, and I could hear them buzzing about it among themselves. Mr G tried to bring everybody to order, going, 'OK, OK, break's over. I know it's been a long time since you last saw one another, but we've got a lot to tackle in the next nine weeks,' only of course nobody paid any attention to him but me.
In the desk in front of me, Lana Weinberger was already on her mobile - the new one that I'd paid for, on account of my
having stomped her old one to bits in a semi-psychotic fit last month - going, 'Shel? You are not going to believe what just happened. You know that freaky girl in your Latin class, the one with the TV show and the flat face? Yeah, well, her