REALLY??????
Really. I mean, it would be kind of presumptuous of him. You guys have not even been going out for a year. I don’t think anyone should Do It with a guy unless they’ve been going out for at least a year. And then they have to Do It for the first time on prom night. Because when you Do It for the first time, the boy should be wearing a tux. It’s only polite.
Tina, I barely managed to get Michael to take me to the prom once. I highly doubt I’m ever going to be able to get him to go again.
Hmmm. Well, coronations count. I’m sure it would be just as romantic to Do It for the first time after your coronation.
I’m not having a coronation until after my dad dies and leaves me the throne!!!! I could be as old as Prince Charles by the time that happens!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I do WANT to Do It, before I’m ANCIENT, you know. Just not, you know. NOW.
Well, then you just need to tell Michael that. You two really need to have The Talk. You need to get this all out in the open. Because communication is the key to success in a romantic relationship.
Have you and Boris had it? You know, The Talk. About DOING IT?
Of course!!!! I mean, providing things don’t work out between Prince William and me, Boris knows that if he ever hopes to be bestowed the gift of my flower, he will need to do it after the prom
on a king-sized bed with white satin sheets in a deluxe suite with Central Park views at the Four Seasons over on East 57th Street with champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries upon arrival an aromatherapy bath for after then waffles for two in bed the next morning.
Oh. Tina, I don’t know how to break this to you…but that sounds like a little more than Boris might be able to afford. I mean, he IS still in high school.
I know. That’s why I suggested he start saving his allowance now. Also, that he better have more than just that one condom he’s been carrying around in his wallet for the past two years.
Boris has a condom in his wallet???? Right NOW??????????
Oh, yes. He is very proactive. That is one of the reasons I love him.
WOULD YOU GUYS PLEASE QUIT PASSING NOTES AND PAY ATTENTION? THIS IS THE BEST TEACHER WE HAVE EVER HAD AND YOU TWO ARE TOTALLY EMBARRASSING ME WITH YOUR INABILITY TO PAY ATTENTION—
Wait. What’s this about a condom?
Nothing! Eyes front!
Who are you guys talking about, anyway?
No one, Lilly. Never mind. Look, she’s passing back our expository writing samples.
I suppose you think that’s going to distract me. I want to know who you guys are talking about. WHO carries around a condom??
Pay attention, Lilly!
Right! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. What did you get, anyway? An A as usual, Miss I Always Get An A in English?
Well, I DID work really hard on it—
Ha! THAT’s not an A!!!! Told you. You really should be paying attention in this class if you’re serious about this writing thing.
Wednesday, September 9, French
I don’t understand this. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS.
I am a talented writer. I KNOW I am. I have been TOLD I am. By more than one person.
I mean, I’m not saying I don’t have more to learn. I know I do. I know I’m no Danielle Steel. Yet. I know I have a lot of work to do before I can ever hope to win a Booker Prize or one of those other awards writers get.
But a B????
I have never gotten a B on an English assignment in my life!!!!
There must be some mistake.
I was in so much shock after I got my paper back that I think I just sat there with my mouth hanging open for a very long period of time…long enough for the line of people gathered around Ms. Martinez’s desk to thin out enough for her to finally notice me, and go, “Yes, Mia? Do you have a question?”
“This is a B,” was all I managed to choke out. On account of my throat had kind of closed up. And my palms were sweaty. And my fingers were shaking.
Because I have never gotten a B on an English assignment before. Never, never, never, never…
“Mia, you’re a very good writer,” Ms. Martinez said. “But you lack discipline.”
“I do?” I licked my lips. They had gotten all parched, just while I was sitting there, it seemed to me.
Ms. Martinez shook her head all sadly.
“I realize it isn’t entirely your fault,” Ms. Martinez went on. “You’ve probably been getting A’s in your English classes for years using the same cartoonish slapstick humor and slick popular culture references you used in your writing sample. I’m sure your teachers were too busy dealing with students who couldn’t write at all to deal with one who clearly can. But, Mia, don’t you see? This kind of self-conscious pseudo-zaniness has no place in a serious expositional work. If you don’t learn to discipline yourself, you’ll never grow as a writer. Pieces like this one you handed in to me only prove that you have a way with words, NOT that you are a writer.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. All I knew was, I had gotten a B. A B!!! IN ENGLISH.
“If I write a new one,” I asked, “will you accept it in the place of this one, and cancel out my B?”
“If it’s good enough,” Ms. Martinez said. “I don’t want you just dashing off something completely over the top again, Mia. I want you to put some thought into it. I want you to make me think.”
“But,” I protested weakly, “that’s what I tried to do in my piece about the snails—”
“By comparing your pouring ten thousand snails into the Bay of Genovia with Pink’s refusal to perform for Prince William because he hunts?” Ms. Martinez shuddered. “No, Mia. That didn’t make me think. It just made me sad for your generation.”