Really, considering all of this, isn’t my debate with Lana just SLIGHTLY insignificant?Monday, September 14, PE
WHY did we have to start our section on volleyball today, of all days? I SUCK at volleyball. All that smacking the ball with the insides of your wrists…it really HURTS! I am totally going to have black-and-blue marks.
And also, I don’t appreciate Mrs. Potts’s little joke of making Lana and me team captains. Because, of course, it totally descended into a game of the Popular versus the Unpopular, with Lana picking Trisha and all of her heinous friends, and me picking Lilly and all of the uncoordinated rejects in the class, on account of, well, I knew LANA wasn’t going to pick them, and I didn’t want them to feel left out, because I KNOW what it’s like to be the last person picked for a team. It’s the most horrible feeling in the world, standing there while the person doing the picking flicks a glance your way, then moves coolly past you, as if you weren’t even THERE!
And, of course, Lana won the coin toss so she got to serve first, and she whacked that ball straight AT ME, I swear. Good thing I ducked, or it might have hit me and left a bruise.
And I don’t care if Mrs. Potts DOES say that’s the point. Hasn’t she heard of all those volleyball-related injuries that occur every year? How would SHE like to have an EYE put out by a BALL?
But then, of course, none of my teammates rushed forward to hit it, because clearly ALL of them knew the volleyball-to-eye-related-injury ratio as well as I did.
Needless to say, we lost every round.
Now Lana is prancing around the locker room in Ramon Riveras’s soccer shorts, talking about what a FABULOUS time they had this weekend after the game. Apparently, she and Ramon went sailing around Manhattan on her dad’s yacht. This is something she won’t be able to do when the ice caps melt, because Manhattan won’t exist anymore since it will be underwater, so I hope she appreciated it. Although I don’t think she did because she said they had a fun time throwing bottle caps overboard and watching the seagulls swoop down to try to eat them, not realizing they were bottle caps and not food.
Obviously, Lana is not very environmentally savvy if she doesn’t realize those bottle caps could choke a not particularly intelligent seagull or fish.
Then her dad took them to the Water Club, a restaurant I have always wanted to go to, but that will probably be going out of business soon if something isn’t done about the killer algae strangling all the other undersea plant life in the world.
Although, I highly doubt that Lana has ever once in her life thought about what’s going on UNDER the ocean. She only cares about what’s going on ON TOP of the water. As in, how she looks in a bikini.
Which, having seen her in a thong, I can honestly state is disgustingly good.
But that doesn’t make her a good person.
Why won’t someone shoot me?Monday, September 14, Geometry
Two more periods until I make a fool of myself in front of the entire school.
Indirect proof = assumption made at the beginning that leads to contradiction.
Contradiction indicates the assumption is false and the desired conclusion is true.
Because Lana is pretty, she must be nice. Because all things that are pretty are nice.
FALSE FALSE FALSE FALSE
Killer algae is pretty, but it is also deadly.
Postulate = a statement that is assumed to be true without proof.
I can pretty much postulate that I will lose today’s debate to Lana.
You know what? I think I might be getting the hang of this Geometry thing.
Oh, my God, wouldn’t it be weird if all this time, I thought I was good at one thing, and bad at another, and it turns out I was really bad at that one thing, and good at another????
Except…I don’t want to be a mathematician when I grow up. I want to be a WRITER. I want to be good at WRITING. I don’t WANT to be good at Geometry.
Well, okay, I want to be good at it. Just not, you know, SO good that I start winning all these Geometry prizes and everyone is all, “Mia! Mia! Solve this theorem!”
Because that would be boring.Monday, September 14, English
One more period until I make a fool of myself in front of the entire school.
Look at her. Who does she think she is, in those Samantha Chang slippers?
I know! She fully thinks she’s all that. You can so tell.
I bet she doesn’t even need those glasses. She probably just wears them to distract from the fact that she has horrible, squinty little eyes.
Totally. And those cargo pants. Hello.
SO last year. I think.
MIA!!! ARE YOU PUMPED???? You don’t look pumped. In fact, you look as crappy as you did in PE. Did you get ANY sleep at all last night?
How was I supposed to sleep, knowing, as I did, that today I’m going to get flayed alive in front of the entire student body—like that guy in Horatio Hornblower?
Nobody is going to get flayed alive. Except maybe Lana. Because you are going to flatten her.
LILLY! I’m NOT! I’m no good at public speaking, you KNOW that. And evolutionarily speaking, Lana has the advantage of both looks AND the fact that her sociopolitical group is the one to whom the rest of us willingly tithe.
What are you talking about?
Just trust me. I’m going to lose.
You aren’t. I have a secret weapon.
YOU’RE GOING TO SHOOT HER?????
No, Tina, you SPAZ, I am not going to shoot Lana during the debate. I have a little something up my sleeve that—if the student body looks unconvinced—I will pull out. But only if Mia looks as if she needs it.
I NEED IT!!!! I NEED IT!!!!
Patience, my young padawan.
Lilly, PLEASE, if you know something, you’ve got to tell me, I’m DYING here. Between your brother and this and the snails, I’m completely fried—
Mia! She wants to see you! In the hallway!
Breathe. Just breathe. And you’ll be all right. Just like Drew in Ever After.
That’s easy for you to say, Lilly. She didn’t stomp all over YOUR dreams.Monday, September 14, third-floor stairwell
Who does she think she is? I mean, REALLY? Does she think just because I’m BLONDE (well, okay, dishwater blonde, but still) and a PRINCESS that I’m STUPID, too?
If so, she’s going to have to WORK ON THAT POSTULATE.
“Mia,” she said, after dragging me out into the hallway “so we can talk” in front of EVERYONE. “I’ve spoken with your father. He came in on Friday to talk to me about your schoolwork. Mia, I had no idea you were so upset over your grades in my class. You should have said something—”
Um, hello, I believe I did. I asked to rewrite the paper. Remember, Ms. Martinez?
“You know you can come talk to me about anything, anytime.”
Um, oh, okay. Can I talk to you about how worried I am about Britney’s too-hasty marriage and subsequent leave of absence from the entertainment industry? No, I don’t believe I can, can I, Ms. Martinez. Because you don’t like slick popular culture references.
“I know I’m a harsh grader, Mia, but really, a B is a very good grade for my class. I’ve only given out one A so far this semester—”
Um, I know, because I saw it. On Lilly’s writing sample.
“The only reason I didn’t feel comfortable giving you an A is because I still don’t think you’re working up to your potential. You’re a very talented writer, Mia, but you need to apply yourself, and stick to topics that are a little more substantive than Britney Spears.”