Sloppy Firsts_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [40]
Inside jokes, obviously. But they sound witty and wise and wonderful. Like him.
But that’s not why I’ve been reading it over and over again. Okay, this is a bit twisted. I keep reading his will because I want so badly to understand what it all means. I’m hoping that if I analyze it enough, it will suddenly make perfect sense. I’ll be able to crack the complex master code that spells out a message just for me—the secret info I need to unlock Paul Parlipiano’s heart.
Incidentally, Kelsey left Scotty a "tongue twister." I don’t even want to know how to translate that.
No one left me anything.
the thirtieth
I didn’t buy a yearbook, which is a criminal offense at PHS. This is all I’ve been hearing: Sign my yearbook. Don’t you want me to sign your yearbook? Why didn’t you get a yearbook? Everyone gets a yearbook.
No. Not everyone gets a yearbook. We’re all coming back next year. And the year after that. Do I really need to spend seventy-five dollars to be wished a "kick-ass summer" by people I’m going to spend June through August trying to forget? The unfair thing about this is that I’m expected to exhaust what energy I have trying to come up with nice things to write in everyone’s books, when I don’t get to suck the life out of them in return.
So I came up with a handy list of all-purpose archetypes that could get me out of awkward signing situations.
jessica darling’s guide to yearbook clichés
Opener
Body
Closer
This year went by so fast
Our times in (fill-in-the-blank) class were the best
Have a kick-ass summer!
Whoo-hoo! We’re halfway through.
I hope you always remember (fill-in-the-blank).
See ya next year!
Just mix and match from each column and I had the perfectly sincere-sounding sentiment suitable for just about anyone. And I didn’t feel bad about using them. That is, until Pepe came up to me.
"Would you sign my yearbook, ma belle?"
That took guts. I mean, you don’t see me going up to Paul Parlipiano and asking him to sign my hypothetical yearbook, do you? So I wrote:
Pierre,
I’ve always admired your ability to conjugate a verb. And I’ll never forget the night I found out the true identity of The Black Elvis. See you in French II.
A bientôt,
Jessica
The grin on his face was a mile wide. It was as if I had written:
Pierre,
I’ve always admired your ability to fill out a pair of tightie-whities. And I’ll never forget the night I found out that you know your way around a clitoris. See you in my wettest, wildest dreams.
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Jessica
I wanted to write more, about how I respected that he did his own thing and how I wish I were able to blur boundaries as easily as he did, but I thought that might be too weird. Besides, what I wrote was sufficient. Pepe’s gratitude was the highlight of a hellacious past few weeks. My morose mood is exacerbated by the fact that the four members of Clueless Crew are even chummier than usual. It’s a blitzkrieg bond-a-thon: shopping, trips to the beach, weekend keggers. Jesus Christ, why do I even care?
And as I walked home today, I caught Scotty and Kelsey kissing each other in her car at a stoplight. I passed right by them in the crosswalk and he didn’t even see me. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had. We don’t talk anymore anyway. According to Sara, via God only knows, Kelsey is threatened by me.
That’s a laugh riot. I’m weaker than I’ve ever been.
June 1st
Hope,
My parents suck ass. Banning me from the phone and restricting my computer privileges are the most assholic parental gestures I can think of. Don’t they realize that you’re the only