was at my locker when I saw Matt walking down the hall toward me. He actually slowed down as he got closer to me. Iâd like to believe he was going to stop and apologize for what he said last night. But I have no idea what he was going to say because I didnât give him an opportunity. Right when he passed me, I looked down like I was busy dealing with my lock and didnât see him. I should have looked up. Not so much to hear what he had to say, but to tell him what I was thinking, which is that what Harry said about him is true. But I didnât.
Guess I wasnât in the mood.
3:35 p.m.
Feeling like a loser
I told Sophie what happened this morning at my locker. âI should have said something when I had the chance.â
âItâs not the kind of conversation you have at your locker before school,â she said.
I agreed with her, but I think the real reason I didnât talk to Matt is because I know he wonât care what I have to say.
I donât like him anymore, but seeing him with someone else made me wonder what went wrong when we went out. Was he pissed I went to summer camp? Or that I didnât let him touch my boobs? Maybe thatâs why he was with Libby. Did she let him touch her boobs? At a party? Does it make me a loser that I wouldnât do that? I donât think it does.
So why do I feel like one?
Wednesday, November 5, 6:05 p.m.
Babysitting
Maybe the reason I feel like a loser is because I am one. When I got home from dance, Mom asked me to babysit. âYou can heat up the leftover meatloaf from last night,â she said.
âCan we eat in front of the TV?â asked May.
âCan we watch SpongeBob ?â asked June.
Technically, Iâm not sure what the definition of a loser is, but someone who eats leftover meatloaf on the couch with her little sisters while watching a show about a demented sponge canât be far off.
Thursday, November 6, 7:10 p.m.
Babysitting
Again
When I got home from dance, Mom asked me if I could babysit again. It was a repeat performance of last night.
Only difference: lasagna instead of meatloaf.
Friday, November 7, 8:45 p.m.
In a rut
Tonight makes my babysitting average three for three.
While most kids my age are at football games or parties on a Friday night, Iâm home babysitting and eating grilled cheese sandwiches. Which isnât the worst thing in the world because weâre having tomato soup with the sandwiches, which is the most exciting thing I can think to write about.
Sad. Very sad.
Saturday, November 8, 2:45 p.m.
Feeling sick
We had an extralong dance practice this morning. Weâre in full practice mode since the dance show is at the end of the month. I was completely exhausted because I couldnât fall asleep until after two. I could barely follow the steps of the freshman modern dance weâre working on for the show. Ms. Baumann called me out twice and during our break. I was so relieved when practice ended. All I wanted to do was go home and take a nap.
But as I was leaving, Brynn caught up to me. âAre you OK?â she asked.
âYeah,â I said. âIâm just tired.â
Brynn shook her head like she knew that wasnât it. âYou canât fool me,â she said. âWeâve been best friends for a long time. Did something happen?â
It made me feel good she knew me well enough to ask, so I told her what happened at the party and how Matt confronted me on the street. âThat sucks,â she said. Then she changed the subject. Iâd like to believe it was because she got that I didnât want to keep talking about Matt. But I think it was because she had something she really wanted to tell me. âApril, something happened. Itâs big.â Brynn shrugged. âYou should know.â
I nodded like I was listening.
âDo you remember I told you that Billy was coming over on Halloween?â
âYeah.â My gut told