Third Time Lucky

Then again, so were Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader.

Must go. Baywatch is on. This is the first time in weeks I've been home to watch it.

Thursday, December 17, 9 p.m.

Tina just called. She didn't want to talk about the press conference. She wanted to know what I got from my Secret Snowflake. I was all, 'Secret Snowflake? What are you talking about?'

'You know,' Tina said. 'Your Secret Snowflake. You remember, Mia. We signed up for it like a month ago. You put your name in the jar and then someone draws it, and they have to be your Secret Snowflake for the last week of school before Winter Break. They're supposed to surprise you with little gifts and stuff. You know, as a stress breaker. Since it's Finals

week and all.'

I dimly remembered, one day before Thanksgiving Break, Tina dragging me over to a folding table where some nerdy-looking kids from the student government were sitting on one side of the cafeteria with a big jar filled with little pieces of paper. Tina had made me write my name on a slip of paper, then pick, someone else's name out of the jar.

'Oh my God,' I cried. With all the stress of Finals and everything, I had forgotten all about it!

Worse, I had forgotten that I had drawn Tina's name. No real coincidence since she'd stuffed her slip of paper into the jar

right before I picked. Still, what kind of heinous friend am I that I would forget something like this?

Then I realized something else. The yellow roses. They hadn't been put in my locker by mistake! And they really weren't from Kenny, either! They had to be from my Secret Snowflake.

Which was kind of upsetting in a way. I mean, it's really starting to look as if Kenny has no intention of asking me to tomorrow night's dance whatsoever.

'I can't believe you forgot about it,' Tina said, sounding amused. 'You have been getting stuff for your Secret Snowflake, haven't you, Mia?'

I felt a rush of guilt. I had totally blown it. Poor Tina!

'Uh, sure,' I said, wondering where I was going to find a present for her by tomorrow morning, the last day of the Secret Snowflake thing. 'Sure, I have.'

Tina sighed. 'I guess nobody picked me,' she said. 'Because I haven't gotten anything.'

'Oh, don't worry,' I said, hoping the guilt washing over me wasn't noticeable in my voice. 'You will. Your Secret Snowflake is probably waiting, you know, until the last day because she's - or he's — gotten you something really good.'

'Do you think so?' Tina asked wistfully.

'Oh, yes,' I gushed.

Reassured, Tina got businesslike.

'Now,' she said, 'that Finals are over . . . '

'Um, yes?'

'... when are you going to tell Michael that you're the one who sent him those cards?'

Shocked, I went, 'How about never?'

To which Tina replied, tartly, 'Mia, if you don't tell him, then what was the point of sending those cards?'

'To let him know that there are other girls out there who might like him, besides Judith Gershner.'

Tina said severely, 'Mia, that's not enough. You've got to tell him it was you. How are you ever going to get him if he doesn't know how you feel?' Tina Hakim Baba, surprisingly, has a lot in common with my dad. 'Remember Kenny? That's how

Kenny got you. He sent the anonymous notes but then he finally fessed up.'

'Yeah,' I said sarcastically. 'And look how great that turned out.'

'It'll be different with you and Michael,' Tina insisted.

'Because you two are destined for one another. I can just feel it. You've got to tell him, and it's got to be tomorrow, because the next day you are leaving for Genovia.'

Oh, God. In my self-congratulations over having successfully manoeuvered my first press conference, I'd forgotten about that too. I am leaving for Genovia the day after tomorrow! With Grandmere! To whom I am not even speaking any more!

I told Tina that I'd confess to Michael tomorrow and she hung up all happily.

But it was a good thing she hadn't been able to see my nostrils, because they were flaring like crazy on account of the fact that I was totally lying to her.

Because there is no way I am ever telling Michael Moscovitz how I feel about him. No matter what anyone says. I can't.

Not to his face.

Not ever.

Friday, December 18, Homeroom

They are holding us hostage here in Homeroom until they've passed out our final semester grades. Then we are free to spend the rest of the day at the Winter Carnival in the gym, and then, later this evening, the dance.

Really. We don't have any more classes after this. We are just supposed to have fun.

As if. I am so never having fun again.

That is because - aside from my many other problems -I think I know who my Secret Snowflake is.

Really, there is no other explanation. Why else would Justin Baxendale — who, even though he's so new is still totally popular, not to mention way good-looking - be hanging around my locker so much? I mean, seriously. This is the third time I've spotted him lurking around there this week. Why would he do that except to leave those roses?