Darth Maul action figure if she sits with us every day. By the way, your mom hired me to babysit him after school, so I’d better go. Don’t want him
to die on my watch.
You suck. Come home.
Bridge
P.S. Tomorrow they’re announcing section leaders in band. Wish me luck. If they give my spot to Kevin Quiggley, I’l gouge out HIS eyes with
Darth Maul.
Callipygian. Having shapely bu**ocks. Nice one, Bridge.
My best friend is a word fiend. One of her most prized possessions is her OED, which she bought for practical y nothing at a yard sale two years ago.
The Oxford English Dictionary is a twenty-volume set that not only provides definitions of words but their histories as well . Bridge is always throwing big words into conversations, because she loves to watch people squirm and bluff their way around them. I learned a long time ago not to pretend to know
what she was talking about. She’d cal me on it every time.
So Bridgette col ects words and, apparently, my life.
I can’t believe Mom hired her to watch Sean. I know she’s the best choice, since we were always watching him together, but stil . It’s weird she’s there
without me. And it’s weird that she’s talking to my mom while I’m stuck here on the other side of the world. Next she’l tell me she got a second job at the movie theater.
Speaking of, Toph hasn’t emailed me in two days. It’s not like I expected him to write every day‚ or even every week, but . . . there was an undeniable
something between us. I mean, we kissed. will this thing—whatever it is—end now that I’m here?
His real name is Christopher, but he hates being cal ed Chris, so he goes by Toph instead. He has shocking green eyes and wicked sideburns.We’re
both left-handed, we both love the fake nacho cheese at the concession stand, and we both hate Cuba Gooding Jr. I’ve crushed on Toph since my first
day on the job, when he stuck his head under the ICEE machine and guzzled it straight from the tap to make me laugh. He had Blue Raspberry Mouth for
the rest of his shift.
Not many people can pul off blue teeth. But believe me, Toph can.
I refresh my inbox—just in case—but nothing new appears. I’ve been planted in front of my computer for several hours, waiting for Bridge to get out of
school. I’m glad she emailed me. For some reason, I wanted her to write first. Maybe because I wanted her to think I was so happy and busy that I didn’t
have time to talk. When, in reality, I’m sad and alone.
And hungry. My mini-fridge is empty.
I had dinner in the cafeteria but avoided the main food line again, stuffing myself with more bread, which only lasts so long. Maybe St. Clair will order breakfast for me again in the morning. Or Meredith; I bet she’d do it.
I reply to Bridge, tell ing her about my new sort-of-friends, the crazy cafeteria with restaurant-quality food, and the giant Panthéon down the road. Despite myself, I describe St. Clair, and mention how in physics he leaned over Meredith to borrow a pen from me, right when Professeur Wakefield was
assigning lab partners. So the teacher thought he was sitting next to me, and now St. Clair is my lab partner for the WHOLE YEAR.
Which was the best thing that happened all day.
I also tell Bridge about the mysterious Life class, La Vie, because she and I spent the entire summer speculating. (Me: “I bet we’l debate the Big Bang
and the Meaning of Life.” Bridge: “Dude, they’l probably teach you breathing techniques and how to convert food into energy.”) all we did today was sit