“The yearbook committee meets only once a week,” Principal Gupta said. “Or perhaps you could join the track team. They won’t begin training until the spring, and by that time, hopefully, you won’t be having princess lessons anymore.”
I just blinked at her, I was so surprised.Me? Track? I can barely walk without tripping over my own gargantuan feet. God knows what would happen if I tried running.
And the yearbook committee? Did I really look like someone who wants to remember one single thing about my high school experience?
“Well,” Principal Gupta said, I guess realizing from my facial expression that I was not enthused by either of these suggestions. “It was just an idea. I do think you would be much happier here at Albert Einstein if you joined a club. I am aware, of course, of your friendship with Lilly Moscovitz, and I sometimes wonder if she might not be . . .well, a negative influence on you. That television show of hers is quite acerbic.”
I was shocked by this. Poor Principal Gupta is more deluded than I thought!
“Oh, no,” I said. “Lilly’s show is actually quite positive. Didn’t you see the episode dedicated to fighting racism in Korean delis? Or the one about how a lot of clothing stores that cater to teens are prejudiced against larger-size girls, since they don’t carry enough things in size twelve, the size of the average American woman? Or the one where we tried to hand-deliver a pound of Vaniero cookies to Freddie Prinz Jr.’s apartment because he’d been looking a little thin?”
Principal Gupta held up her hand. “I see that you feel very passionately about this,” she said. “And I must say, I am pleased. It is good to know you feel passionate about something, Mia, other than your antipathy toward athletes and cheerleaders.”
Then I felt worse than ever. I said, “I don’t feel antipathy toward them. I’m just saying that sometimes . . .well, sometimes it feels like they run this school, Principal Gupta.”
“Well, I can assure you,” Principal Gupta said. “That is not true.”
Poor, poor Principal Gupta.
Still, I did feel that I had to intrude upon the fantasy world in which she so obviously lives, just a little.
“Um,” I said. “Principal Gupta. About Mrs. Hill . . .”
“What about her?” Principal Gupta asked.
“I didn’t mean it when I said she’s always in the teachers’ lounge during my Gifted and Talented class. That was an exaggeration.”
Principal Gupta smiled at me in this very brittle way.
“Don’t worry, Mia,” she said. “Mrs. Hill has been taken care of.”
Taken care of! What doesthat mean?
I am almost scared to find out.
Tuesday, October 28, G & T
Well, Mrs. Hill didn’t get fired.
Instead, I guess they gave her a warning, or something. The upshot of it is, Mrs. Hill won’t budge from behind her desk here in the G and T lab.
Which means we have to sit at our desks and actually do our work. And we can’t lock Boris in the supply closet. We actually have to sit here and listen to him play.
PlayBartok.
And we can’t talk to one another, because we are supposed to be working on our individual projects.
Boy, is everyone mad at me.
But no one is madder than Lilly.
It turns out Lilly’s been secretly writing a book about the socioeconomic divisions that exist within the walls ofAlbertEinsteinHigh School . Really! She didn’t want to tell me, but finally Boris blurted it out at lunch today. Lilly threw a fry at him and got ketchup all over his sweater.
I can’t believe Lilly has told Boris things that she hasn’t told me. I’m supposed to be her best friend. Boris is just her boyfriend. Why is she telling him cool things, like about how she’s writing a book, and not telling me?
“Can I read it?” I begged.
“No.” Lilly was really mad. She wouldn’t even look at Boris. He had already totally forgiven her about the ketchup, even though he will probably have to get that sweater dry-cleaned.
“Can I read just one page?” I asked.
“No.”
“Just one sentence?”
“No.”
Michael didn’t know about the book either. He told me right before Mrs. Hill came in that he offered to publish it in his webzine,Crackhead, but Lilly said, in quite a snotty voice, that she was holding out for a “legitimate” publisher.
“Am I in it?” I wanted to know. “Your book? Am I in it?”
Lilly said if people don’t stop bothering her about it, she is going to fling herself off the top of the school water tower. She is exaggerating, of course. You can’t even get up to the water tower anymore, since the seniors, as a prank a few years ago, poured a bunch of tadpoles into it.
I can’t believe Lilly’s been working on a book and never told me. I mean, I always knew she was going to write a book about the adolescent experience in post–Cold WarAmerica . But I didn’t think she was going to start it before we had graduated. If you ask me, this book can’t be very balanced. Because I hear things get way better sophomore year.
Still, I guess it does make sense that you would tell someone whose tongue has been in your mouth things you wouldn’t necessarily tell your best friend. But it makes me mad Boris knows things about Lilly that I don’t know. I tell Lilly everything.
Well, everything except how I feel about her brother.
Oh, and about my secret admirer.
And about my mom and Mr. Gianini.
But I tell her practically everything else.
DON’T FORGET:
1. Stop thinking about M.M.
2. English journal! Profound moment!
3. Cat food
4. Q-tips
5. Toothpaste
6. TOILET PAPER!
Tuesday, October 28, Bio
I am winning friends and influencing people everywhere I go today. Kenny just asked me what I’m doing for Halloween. I said I might have a family obligation to attend, and he said if I could get out of it, he and a bunch of his friends from the Computer Club are going toRocky Horror, and that I should come along.