Sloppy Firsts_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [41]
No. They don’t. That’s the problem.
I don’t see how things could get any worse. After seeing my attempts at normalcy blow up in my face, I’m less motivated to fit in than ever.
But I still fake it.
Everyone is obsessing about all the graduation blowouts. I bitch about having to miss them because they’re the same weekend as Bethany’s wedding. Of course I’m relieved. Not hitting the party circuit because I have something else to do is socially acceptable. However, not hitting the party circuit because I’d rather sit at home and squeeze all the gunk out of the humongous pores in my nose, well, isn’t.
I don’t think I’m fooling anyone, though.
Congrats on getting that job at the visual arts camp. Sounds cool. Maybe we’ll get to see each other when it’s over, before school starts up again. But I can’t think that far ahead right now.
Take care of yourself.
Morbidly yours, J.
june
the second
My Psych book says that prolonged lack of sleep will drive a person insane. I am living proof. What else could’ve made me risk ruining my reputation? My life?
From the beginning:
We had a substitute in French today, which meant that we were going to waste the period watching a subtitled Gérard Depardieu video. No way I was going to miss this opportunity to steal some sleep. So I faked a cramp and got a pass to the nurse’s office.
Nurse Payne wanted to soothe my ovaries with an electric heating pad, but I insisted that all I needed was to lie down and wait for the PMS pain reliever to kick in. She didn’t argue because a Hick-on-Wigga brawl had just been broken up and she had minor abrasions and lacerations to treat.
She hurried me to the private recovery room. I had it totally to myself! For forty-five minutes! I fell asleep within two seconds of crashing on the cot.
The next thing I knew, I felt a soft tickle on my cheek. Someone was whispering, "Wake up, sleepyhead …"
Whoever it was flipped the light switch, blinding me with florescence. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a dark figure in the shape of a person … then a male figure … then a male figure in a Dawson’s Creek T-shirt … then Marcus Flutie.
Marcus Flutie!
I went from REM to ready-for-action in a millisecond.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Hey, Cuz," he said. "I need to ask you for a favor."
He needed a favor. Marcus Flutie needed a favor from me. Why did Marcus Flutie need a favor from me?
"A favor? Why do you need a favor?"
He bent over and looked like he was going to tie his shoe. Instead, he unrolled the six-inch cuff in his jeans and pulled out a plastic Dannon yogurt container. Vanilla.
"Is that how you always carry your lunch?" I giggled. Damn. I chewed on my bottom lip. Double damn.
He took the top off the yogurt. It was empty inside. Then Marcus made what is without a doubt the most bizarre request that has ever been made of me.
"I need you to piss in this."
"What?!"
He said it again. "I need you to piss in this."
I said it again. "What?!"
He sat down next to me, much closer than was necessary.
"My parole officer showed up for a surprise urine test," he said. "I know you think that I’m a Dreg, a worthless piece of garbage who deserves to be busted. But besides a few blunts and a few hits of E …"
"You want me to fake your drug test? Are you insane? I don’t even know you!"
"I know you better than you think."
I snorted. "How do you know me?"
He answered by putting his hand on my knee.
I freaked out. I was sure that if the nurse came in and saw Marcus and me just sitting next to each other on the cot with his hand on my knee and that grin on his face, that alone would be enough to get us detention, or suspended, or something worse.
"Wait a sec. Isn’t this a violation of your constitutional rights?"
"As a minor and a repeat offender, I have no rights," he said, snickering. "Call the ACLU."
I looked at the yogurt container, then the clock on the wall. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
"Payne will be back here any second. If you don’t do this, I’ll get kicked out of school for good."
Couldn’t he make this argument