lot.
Aidan told me later that French is compulsory here, which just thrills me to death. NOT! How on earth am I supposed to pass a class of French when everyone in there has been speaking it since they were an embryo? I refuse to let my GPA drop because of this stupid school!
There, that’s it, that’s everything. It was the worst day of my life, and to top everything off, one of the Snickerers (Bee) saw me get into the car when Mom picked me up, which I’m sure she’ll tell everyone.
Please e-mail me as soon as you get this. I’m going to go get my personally autographed picture of Liam Hemsworth and set it on top of the computer. Liam can conquer even the worst horrible day.
Hugs and kisses,
~Em
Subject: Re: WHAT????????????
From: [email protected]
Date: 8 September 11:14 pm
What do you mean, Vance was driving Tabitha around last night? What do you know?
Um. My mistake. I...um...thought you said he drove Tabitha to the mall and went to Red Robin later. But I must have hallucinated that.
Hugs and kisses,
~Em
Subject: Re: OHMIGOD! He was with TABITHA?
From: [email protected]
Date: 8 September 11:19 pm
THEY WENT TO RED ROBIN? Together? LIKE IN A DATE??? Aargh!
Honestly, how would I know what they did? I'm halfway around the world, for Pete's sake! Get a grip, girlfriend!
Hs & Ks,
~Em
Subject: Re: I am never speaking to you again!
From: [email protected]
Date: 8 September 11:23 pm
Did she tell you she and Vance had a date? What else did they do? Oh, God, I can't
believe this! She e-mailed you EVERYTHING! My life is over! You owe it to me, as your
very best friend, to tell me the truth. Did that b*tch Tabitha e-mail you?
Um...maybe.
Big, big hug (you deserve better than him),
~Em
Subject: The OTP must go!
From: [email protected]
Date: 12 September 5:21 pm
If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to get that Karen Duff! She told old Horseface, who told Mr. “Russell Crowe Near Miss” Krigon, that I said the policy of wearing the stupid games skirt for hockey was obviously the creation of a perverted mind. I can't believe she ratted on me! Aidan told me I could study with him in the library, but instead I had to spend my entire study period sweeping up the girls' locker room!
She's history. Oh, yes, she's history. Hiiiiiiiiiiiiistory!
Hugs and smooches,
~Em
Subject: My fifteen minutes of fame...can I ask for my money back?
From: [email protected]
Date: 16 September 5:08 pm
“So,” I said to Brother when he strolled in the door this afternoon (the man hardly works! It's terrible the way he gets paid for doing nothing but writing a few papers and teaching a couple of classes). “Would you like to explain this?”
He raised his Unibrow (still no signs of plucking, but I'm not giving up hope. I put Mom's extra pair of tweezers on his pillow. Maybe they'll get kinky and she'll pluck his Unibrow for him). “You seem to misunderstand the basic principles behind the parent-child relationship. Traditionally it is the parent who asks for an explanation of the child.”
“Let's keep our mind in this century, shall we?” I asked, and held out the newspaper that Mom had given me.
He took it and read. “Ah. How nice. Very flattering. Hmmm. Noted medieval scholar, distinguished lecturer, mmmm. Yes. Very nice. I had no idea the university would notify the local papers.”
“You are missing the important part.” I pointed to the sentences in question.
“'Professor and Mrs. Williams are accompanied by their two daughters, Bess and Emily. The former, eighteen, will be studying at the Guildston Art Studio, while the latter, sixteen, will be a student in the fifth form at Piddlington-on-the-Weld's own Gobottle School.' What's wrong with that?”
“Gah! Brother! Can't you read? It says right there in black and white that I'm in the fifth form!”
“You are.”
“But I shouldn't be. All of Aidan's friends agree about that!”
“Aidan?” Brother lowered the newspaper and gave me that Have you been in the proximity of a male of the species? look. You know, the one he always gives me when I go out on a date, the one that Mark Dickenson said made his noogies feel like they were being crushed in a vise.
“Aidan Spencer, the dean's son. He came here, remember?”
Bess walked by, a hideous plant in her arms, and a Save the Bottle-nosed Dolphin sign tucked into the back of her jeans. “Emily's got a boyfriend, Emily's got a boyfriend.”
“You can stuff your plant where the dolphin don't shine,” I told her. She grinned and went out to