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Shop at Ho's Deli for all your school supply needs!

New this week: PAPER, BINDER CLIPS, TAPE.

Also Yu-Gi-Oh cards, Slimfast

For Sale:

One Fender precision bass, baby-blue, never been played.

With amp, how-to videos. Best Offer. Locker No. 345

Looking for Love:

Female frosh, loves romance/ reading, wants older boy who enjoys same.

Must be taller than 5'8", no mean people, non-smokers only,

musician preferred. NO METAL-HEADS, nice hands a must.

Email: [email protected]

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Personal to from BP to LM -I'm sorry for what I did, but I want you to know that I still love you.

PLEASE meet me by my locker after school today and allow me to express my devotion to you.

Lilly, you are my muse. Without you, the music is gone. Please don't let our love die this way.

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From CF to GD: YES!!!!!!!!!!!

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JR, I am SO excited about the prom, I can't STAND it, we are going to have SO MUCH FUN.

I feel SO SORRY for the rejects who aren't going to the prom. Isn't that just too bad for them?

They'll be sitting around at home while you and I are DANCING THE NIGHT AWAY!

I love you SOOOOOOOO much. LW

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LW - Right back atcha, babe -JR

Wednesday, May 7, Algebra

Well, I did it. I can't say it went over very well - in fact, it did not go over AT ALL well. But I did it. No one can say

I didn't do EVERYTHING POSSIBLE to try to get my boyfriend to take me to his prom.

Oh, God, but WHY did it have to be LANA WEINBERGER???? WHY???? I mean, ANYBODY else -Melanie Greenbaum, even. But no. It had to be Lana. I had to grovel to LANA WEINBERGER.

Oh, God, my skin is still crawling.

She was so not receptive to my offer, either. You would have thought I was asking her to strip naked and sing the school

song in the middle of lunch (no, wait - Lana probably wouldn't mind doing that).

I got to class early, because I know Lana usually likes to get there before the second bell to make a few calls on her mobile. There she was, all right, the only person in the room, yakking away to someone named Sandy about her prom dress - she

really did get a black ofF-one-shoulder one with a butterfly hem from Nicole Miller (I so hate her). Anyway, I went up to her - which I think was VERY brave of me considering every time I fall under Lana's radar she makes some catty personal remark about my physical appearance. But whatever. I just stood there next to her desk while she yammered into the phone, until she finally realized I wasn't going away. Then she went, 'Hold on a minute, will you, Sandy? There's a ... person who wants something.' Then she held the phone away from her face, looked up at me with those big baby blues of hers, and went, 'WHAT?'

'Lana,' I said. I swear, I have sat next to the Emperor of Japan, OK? I once shook the hand of Prince William. I even stood next to Imelda Marcos in line for the Ladies' Room at The Producers. But none of those events ever made me as nervous as Lana does with a mere glance. Because of course Lana has made tormenting me a special personal hobby of hers. That kind

of terror runs deeper than the fear of meeting emperors or princes or dictators' wives.

'Lana,' I said again, trying to get my voice to stop shaking. 'I need to ask you something.'

'No,' Lana said, and got back on to her mobile.

'I haven't even asked you yet,' I cried.

'Well, the answer is still no,' Lana said, tossing around her shiny blonde hair. 'Now, where was I? Oh yes, so I am fully

getting body-glitter and putting it on my - no, not there, Sandy! You are so bad.'

'It's just . . .' I had to talk fast because, of course, there was a strong chance Michael was going to stop by the Algebra classroom on his way to AP English, as he does almost every day. I did not want him to know what I was up to. '. . . I know you're on the Prom Committee, and I really think this year's senior class deserves live music at their prom, and not just a DJ. That's why I was thinking you should ask Skinner Box to play.'

Lana went, 'Hold on, Sandy. That person still hasn't gone away.' Then she looked at me from between her thickly mascaraed eyelashes and went, 'Skinner Box? You mean that band of geeks who played that stupid princess-of-my-heart song to you

on your birthday?'

I said, taking umbrage, 'Excuse me, Lana, but you shouldn't speak so disparagingly of geeks. If it were not for geeks, we

would not have computers, or vaccinations against many major diseases, or antibiotics, or even that mobile you are talking into—'

'Yeah,' Lana said briskly. 'Whatever. The answer is still no.'

Then she went back to her phone conversation.

I stood there for a minute, feeling colour rush into my face. I must really be making progress with my impulse control, since I didn't reach out and grab her mobile from her and crush it beneath my Doc Martens as I might once have. Being the proud owner of a mobile phone myself now, I know just how completely heinous doing something like that would be. Also, you know, considering how much trouble I got into the last time I did it.

Instead, I just stood there with my cheeks burning and my heart beating really fast and my breath coming out in these shallow little gasps. It seems like no matter what kind of strides I make in the rest of my life - you know, behaving with level-headed calmness in medical emergencies; knighting people; almost getting to second base with my boyfriend - I still can't seem to