Third Time Lucky

FtLouie: Just for one day.

CracKing: What'd you do?

FtLouie: crushed a cheerleader's mobile phone.

CracKing: Your parents must be so proud.

FtLouie: If so, they've done a pretty good job of disguising it so far.

CracKing: So, are you grounded?

FtLouie: Surprisingly, no. I told them the attack on the phone was provoked.

CracKing: So you'll still be going to the Carnival next week?

FtLouie: AS secretary to the Students Against the Corporatization of Albert Einstein High. I believe my attendance is required. Your sister is planning for us to have a booth.

CracKing: That Lilly. She's always looking out for the good of mankind.

FtLouie: That's one way of putting it.

Winter Carnival. What is up with that?

Friday, December 11, 9 p.m., the Loft

Now we know why Mr. G was'so late getting home:

He stopped along the way to buy a Christmas tree.

Not just any Christmas tree, either, but a twelve-footer that must be at least six feet wide at the base.

I didn't say anything negative, of course, because my mom was so happy and excited about it and immediately lugged out all

of her Dead Celebrity Christmas ornaments (my mom doesn't use pretty glass balls or tinsel on her Christmas tree, like normal people. Instead, she paints pieces of tin with the likenesses of celebrities that have died that year and hangs those on the tree. (Which is why we probably have the only tree in North America with ornaments commemorating Richard and Pat Nixon, Elvis, Audrey Hepburn, Kurt Cobain, Jim Henson, John Belushi, Rock Hudson, Alec Guiness, Divine, John Lennon and many, many more.)

Mr. Gianini kept looking over at me, to see if I was happy too. He got the tree, he said, because he knew what a bad day I'd had and he didn't want it to be a total loss.

Mr. G, of course, has no idea what my English term paper topic is.

What was I supposed to say? I mean, he'd already gone out and bought it, and you know a tree that size had to have cost a

lot of money. And he'd meant to do a nice thing. He really had.

Still, I wish the people around here would consult me about things before just going out and doing them. Like the whole pregnancy thing, and now this tree. If Mr G had asked me, I would have been like, Let's go to the Big K Mart on Astor Place and get a nice fake tree so we don't contribute to the destruction of the polar bear's natural habitat, OK?

Only he didn't ask me.

And the truth is, even if he did, my mom would never have gone for it. Her favourite part of Christmas is lying on the floor with her head under the tree, gazing up through the branches and inhaling the sweet tangy smell of pine sap. She says it's the only memory of her Indiana childhood she actually likes.

It's hard to think about the polar bears when your mom says something like that.

Saturday, December 12, 2 p.m., Lilly's Apartment

Well, the first meeting of the Students Against the Corporatization of Albert Einstein High School is a complete bust.

That's because nobody showed up but me and Boris Pelkowski. I am a little miffed that Kenny didn't come. You would think that if he really loves me as much as he says he does, he would take any opportunity whatsoever to be near me, even a boring meeting of the Students Against the Corporatization of Albert Einstein High School.

But I guess even Kenny's love is not that great. As should be obvious to me by now, considering the fact that there are exactly six days until the Non-Denominational Winter Dance, and Kenny STILL HASN'T ASKED ME IF I WANT TO GO WITH HIM.

Not that I'm worried, or anything. I mean, does a girl who set off a fire alarm AND smashed Lana Weinberger's mobile worry about not having a date to a stupid dance? All right. I'm worried.

But not worried enough to completely humiliate myself and ask him to the dance.

Lilly is pretty much inconsolable over the fact that no one but Boris and me showed up to her meeting. I tried to tell her that everybody is too busy studying for Finals to worry about privatization at the moment, but she doesn't seem to care. Right now she is sitting on the couch with Boris speaking to her in a soothing voice. Boris is pretty gross and all -with his sweaters that he always tucks into his trousers, and that weird brace his orthodontist makes him wear - but you can tell he genuinely loves Lilly.

I mean, look at the tender way he is gazing at her as she sobs about how she is going to call her congressperson.

It makes my heart hurt, looking at Boris look at Lilly.

I guess I must be jealous.  I want a boy to look at me like that.  And I don't mean Kenny, either.  I mean a boy who I actually

like back, as more than a friend.

I can't take it anymore.  I am going into the kitchen to see what Maya, the Moscovitzes' housekeeper, is doing.  Even helping

to wash things has to be better than this.

Saturday, December 12, 2:30 p.m., Lilly's Apartment