I immediately saw that neglecting the site had been a mistake. Because there had been updates since my last visit. A LOT of updates.
Whoever owned the site had been keeping a close eye on my every move. And I mean myevery move. The day I got a drink out of the second-floor water fountain at AEHS and the spray hit me in the face instead of my mouth? Recorded with glee. The time I tripped over my new shoes and dropped all my books outside the Chem lab? Noted. The time I spilled soy sauce all down the front of my school uniform in the caf? There was actually a photo…a bad one, obviously taken with a cell phone camera.
But it was there.
And whoever had founded the site hadn’t stopped there. There was loads of advice as to how I could improve my looks so as not to appear so physically repulsive. For instance, according to ihatemiathermopolis.com, I needed to grow my hair out (well, obviously), and stop wearing my platform Mary Janes to school, because I’m “towering over everyone like some kind of supermodel. Or so she obviously THINKS she appears. Too bad no one’s told her she looks more like a superspastic.”
Nice.
That’s when the tears in my eyes spilled over. Suddenly sobs were wracking my body.
FTLOUIE: Tina. I’m sorry. I have to go.
ILUVROMANCE: Mia? Are you all right? You’re not taking this idiotic stuff SERIOUSLY, are you?
FTLOUIE: No, of course not! I just have to go. I’ll call you later.
ILUVROMANCE: Mia! I’m so sorry—but I thought you should know! Your dad should really call the school.
FTLOUIE: I’m glad you told me. Really. Good night, Tina.
ILUVROMANCE: Good night—
Wednesday, September 22, midnight, the loft
I just cried for, like, half an hour—in my bathroom, with the door shut, and the water running, so everyone would think I was just showering, and not bother me, asking me what was wrong. I think I cried harder just now than I ever have in my whole life. Fat Louie’s fur is SOAKED from all the tears that dropped into it while he curled up in my lap.
Well, okay. He wasn’t really curled up onto my lap. I was clutching him there, and he was trying to get away, and wailing piteously for help.
But whatever! If a girl can’t have her cat to comfort her in her time of direst need, what good is even HAVING a cat???
It just…it so blows, you know? I don’t WANT to be that girl. The crying emo girl. Next thing you know, I’ll start wearing skinny jeans and too much black eyeliner and nail polish and reading vampire romance novels.
God. I just…when am I going to start feeling BETTER? When am I going to get out of this hole Dr. Knutz PROMISED me he’d help me out of?
And it’s so lame, because I know how LUCKY I am. I mean, I don’t have any REAL problems. Well, except for the whole princess thing. And the ihatemiathermopolis.com thing.
But so what? Lots of people get crummy things written about them on the Internet. Look at Rachael Ray, that woman on the Food Network. There’s a whole online community devoted to how much people hate her, and she’s totally adorable. You can’t take it personally. You certainly can’t make a big deal out of it. That just gives the haters what they want—the attention they so obviously crave.
And if I tell on them—like if I tell my dad, and he goes to Principal Gupta about it, and she figures out who is doing it, and expels them, or whatever (because Albert Einstein High School has an online harassment policy that is supposed to protect its students from bullying like this), what good will it do?
They’re—whoever they are…and let’s face it, I have a pretty good idea who “they” are—just going to hate me more.
Right.
And so my boyfriend dumped me, and I’m still in love with him—so much so, it hurts? Big deal. Millions of girls have gotten dumped by their boyfriends over the years. I’m not special. My own best friend got dumped just like this a couple of weeks ago.
And now the guy who dumped her says he loves me.
Go figure.
That’s not why I’m crying, either. I guess. I don’t know….
And poor J.P.! I can’t believe I just left him hanging like that. I mean, I didn’t give him an answer either way. I just sort of…ignored him.
But I have to saysomething or it’s going to be weird.
It’s going to be weird either way, of course.
But he took a risk, putting himself out there like that. The least I can do is pay him the common courtesy of responding.
It’s just…I don’t know what to say.
I don’t! I mean, I know I don’t love him back—obviously.
But that doesn’t mean, like Tina said, that I couldn’t learn to. If I let myself.
In fact, if I let myself, I have an idea I could love J.P. a lot.
Just, you know. In a different way than I loved Michael.
But maybe I shouldn’t be making decisions like this after midnight on a day when I nearly got blown up and two weeks after I got dumped and one week into cowboy therapy and two nights before I’m supposed to make a speech about drainage in front of two thousand sophisticated New York businesswomen and an hour after I discovered ihatemiathermopolis.com is being written by someone who goes to my school and maybe, possibly my ex-best friend. (But itcouldn’t be her, right? That would betoo mean, even for Lilly.)
Maybe I should sleep on it. Maybe I should just go to bed and—
Okay. That is never going to work. I am never going to get to sleep unless I—
FTLOUIE: Dear J.P.,
Hi. So…today was weird, huh?
And it’s probably only going to be weirder tomorrow, what with all these newspapers and stuff saying how Kenny is a psychopathic madman, and you and I are going out and all. Not that I mind—if I’m going to be falsely romantically linked with anybody, I’m glad it’s you. Ha ha.
It’s just…I don’t know if I’m ready yet to be NOT falsely romantically linked with anybody. Do you know what I mean? Even though it was almost a couple of weeks ago now, it still seems like it was just yesterday that Michael and I broke up. And I’m not sure I’m ready to get back in the saddle and date again—
Oh my God. Dr. Knutz isn’t even here, and I’m using horse allegories. That is just so wrong.
Okay, delete, delete, delete.
Even though it was almost a couple of weeks ago now, it still seems like it was just yesterday that Michael and I broke up. I think I need more time to figure out who I am without him before I hook up with anybody—
Hook up!!! NO NO NO NO!!!! DELETE!!!
I think I need more time to figure out who I am without him before I start going out with somebody else.
Okay. Better.
I really do count you as one of my best friends, J.P. And if I WERE going to date anyone this soon, it would be you.
Oh, God. Is that even true? I mean, Ido like him…. He’s no Michael. But who is? Except Michael, of course.
But what about Lilly? It’s true she’s mad at me right now (but shecan’t be behind ihatemiathermopolis.com…where would she even find the time, between student council andLilly Tells It Like It Is and dating Kenny and all?)—and I’m not even really sure why.
But what if by some miracle she decides to forgive me for whatever it is that I did to her? And then she finds out I’m going out with her ex?
On the other hand…she’sgoing out withmy ex.
And, okay, I spent most of the time I was dating Kenny trying to figure out how to break up with him. But still. She can’t be mad at me for doing exactly whatshe’s doing…can she?
Oh, God. I don’t know.
I don’t know anything anymore.
Which leads me to:
But I need to get my head straightened out before I can let anybody else into it. Does that make sense?
Please don’t hate me.
Love,
Mia
Okay. Hitting SEND before I can change my mind…