FTLOUIE: Well, I don’t.
CRACKING: Yes, you do. Lilly likes to think you belong to the exclusive and highly selective Lilly Moscovitz clique. Only you neglected to mention this, and that has upset her.
FTLOUIE: Really? Did she say that?
CRACKING: She didn’t say it, but she’s my sister. I know
the way she thinks.
FTLOUIE: Maybe. I don’t know, Michael.
CRACKING: Look, are you all right? You were a mess at school today . . . although now it’s clear why. That’s pretty cool about your mom and Mr. Gianini. You must be excited.
FTLOUIE: I guess so. I mean, it’s kind of embarrassing. But at least this time my mom’s getting married, like a normal person.
CRACKING: Now you won’t need my help with your Algebra homework anymore. You’ll have your own personal tutor right there at home.
I had never thought of this. How awful! I don’t want my own personal tutor. I want Michael to keep helping me during G and T! Mr. Gianini is all right, and everything, but he’s certainly not Michael.
I wrote really fast:
FTLOUIE: Well, I don’t know. I mean, he’s going to be awfully busy for a while, moving in, and then there’ll be the baby and everything.
CRACKING: God. A baby. I can’t believe it. No wonder you were wigging out so badly today.
FTLOUIE: Yeah, I really was. Wigging out, I mean.
CRACKING: And what about that thing this afternoon with Lana? That couldn’t have helped much. Though it was pretty funny, her thinking we were going out, huh?
Actually, I didn’t see anything particularly funny about it. But what was I supposed to say? Gee, Michael, why don’t we give it a try?
As if.
Instead I said:
FTLOUIE: Yeah, she’s such a headcase. I guess it’s never occurred to her that two people of the opposite sex can just be friends, with no romantic involvement.
Although I have to admit the way I feel about Michael—particularly when I’m over at Lilly’s and he comes out of his room with no shirt on—is quite romantic.
CRACKING: Yeah. Listen, what are you doing Friday night?
Was he asking me out? Was Michael Moscovitz finally asking me OUT?
No. It wasn’t possible. Not after the way I’d made a fool of myself on national television.
Just to be safe, though, I figured I’d try for a neutral reply, in case what he wanted to know was whether I could come over and walk Pavlov because the Moscovitzes were going to be out of town, or something.
FTLOUIE: I don’t know. Why?
CRACKING: Because it’s Halloween, you know. I thought a bunch of us could get together and go see The Rocky Horror Picture Show over at the Village Cinema. . . .
Okay. Not a date.
But we’d be sitting beside each other in a darkened room! That counted for something. And Rocky Horror is sort of scary, so if I reached over and grabbed him, it might be okay.
FTLOUIE: Sure, that sounds . . .
Then I remembered. Friday night was Halloween, all right. But it was also the night of my mom’s royal wedding! I mean, if Grandmère gets her way.
FTLOUIE: Can I get back to you? I may have a family obligation that evening.
CRACKING: Sure. Just let me know. Well, see you tomorrow.
FTLOUIE: Yeah. I can’t wait.
CRACKING: Don’t worry. You were telling the truth. You can’t get in trouble for telling the truth.
Ha! That’s what he thinks. There’s a reason I lie all the time, you know.
TOP FIVE BEST THINGS ABOUT BEING IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER
1. Get to see him in his natural environment, not just at school, thus allowing you access to vital information, like difference between his “school” personality and real personality.
2. Get to see him without a shirt on.
3. Get to see him all the time.
4. Get to see how he treats his mother/sister/housekeeper (critical clues as to how he will treat any prospective girlfriend).
5. Convenient: You can hang out with your friend and spy on the object of your affections at the same time.
TOP FIVE WORST THINGS ABOUT BEING IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER
1. Can’t tell her.
2. Can’t tell him, because he might tell her.
3. Can’t tell anyone else, because they might tell him, or worse, her.
4. He will never admit to his true feelings because you are his little sister’s best friend.
5. You are continuously thrust into his presence, knowing that he will never think of you as anything but his little sister’s best friend for as long as you live, and yet you continue to pine for him until every fiber of your being cries out for him and you think you are probably going to die even though your Biology teacher says it is physiologically impossible to die from a broken heart.
Tuesday, October 28, Principal Gupta’s office
Oh, God! No sooner had I set foot in Homeroom today than I was summoned to the principal’s office!
I was hoping it was so that she could make sure I’m not carrying any contraband cough syrup, but it’s more likely because of what I said last night on TV. Particularly, I would guess, the part about how divisive and clique-ridden it is around here.
Meanwhile, all the other people in this school who have never been invited to a party given by a popular kid have rallied around me. It’s like I’ve struck a blow for dweebs everywhere, or something. The minute I walked into school today, the hip-hoppers, the brainiacs, the drama freaks, they were all, “Hey! Tell it like it is, sistah.”
No one’s ever called me sistah before. It is somewhat invigorating.