Sloppy Firsts_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [55]
No. I’m wrong. Waaaaaaay wrong. First of all, the only criterion Burke meets is the fact that he’s over six feet tall. Okay. I’ll admit. He does have a bod that could best be described as, fooooooyne. Maybe he flosses daily—I don’t know. But he’s not blond, doesn’t surf or ski, and drives a Ford Escort, not a jeep.
Plus, Manda wouldn’t stoop so low, would she? Flirting with Burke is one thing. Fellating him is another. That’s beyond skanky. That would officially make her a full-on skank of the first degree. And surely Burke loves Bridget. He’s strong enough not to whip out his junk just because Manda swings her jugs around … right? (Please say I’m right.)
There’s only one reason why I’m writing about this soap opera instead of my long overdue visit to see you in three weeks: I’m afraid that by writing about it, I’ll jinx it. And I can’t afford to jinx it. I really can’t.
Fingers crossingly yours, J.
august
the fifth
JUST EIGHTEEN DAYS UNTIL I SEE HOPE!
Every L.A.me E-mail I get from Bridget, every carnal carpool I share with Manda and Burke, every quote Omigod! unquote anecdote I endure from Sara intensifies my need to hang with Hope.
I’m going down there for her birthday. The twenty-third. The fact that she’d still rather celebrate her Sweet Sixteen with me than with anyone she’s met down there helps relax the paranoia I have about being replaced.
This worry will only get worse if she gets into the all-girls private school she applied to. It was a last-minute thing; one of her relatives has an in on the board of directors or something. It has an amazing visual arts program that will really help her build the impressive portfolio she needs to get into a first-class college. Great instructors, great facilities, great supplies. She sounded so psyched about it on the phone. More psyched than I have ever sounded about anything in my entire life.
For her birthday, I’m burning her a CD mix. It has to strike the right balance between sincerity and irony. Not too much Beck or too little Duran Duran. Can’t go heavy on South Park or light on Moby. I will focus all my brainpower on this project until it’s done. I need this present to be perfect. Probably more for myself than her. I need to prove that I still know Hope better than anyone else.
the fourteenth
I knew it was too good to be true. I really did. So I wasn’t shocked when my plans to see Hope fell through today. But I was shocked (and disgusted) by how I felt about the reason why they fell through.
Hope not only got in to the private school, but nabbed a scholarship. Huge deal.
I know that a true best friend would be happy for her. I know I shouldn’t be bothered by the fact that her new school starts two weeks earlier than the public school she would have attended, therefore null-and-voiding my visit. I know I shouldn’t be jealous because leaving Pineville may end up being the best thing that ever happened to Hope, while I’m still stuck here doing the same-old, same-old. Going nowhere. I shouldn’t be green that Hope is moving on so much better than I am.
But I am.
When I told my mom I wasn’t going to spend a week in Tennessee, she gushed, "Great! Now we can spend some quality time together!"
Needless to say, I won’t be quitting my job early after all.
I gotta go. I have to mail Hope’s present if I want her to still be there when it arrives.
the sixteenth
Matthew Michael Darling would have been twenty today.
As if I weren’t depressed enough.
I wonder if things were worse for Hope’s parents or mine. Hope told me that in a way, Heath’s death was a relief for her parents: They could stop waiting for it happen. My parents never saw it coming. How can you see something like that coming?
I’ve never been to his grave. My parents have never taken me. Can you imagine how it must have been for them? Instead of picking out stuffed animals they were picking out his burial plot. They do not talk about it. And I know not to acknowledge it.
My mom will be a zombie for the next two weeks. She pops Valiums starting today until September first—the anniversary of