Page 58 of Warmer, Colder

Today’s the first day of ninth grade. Exciting, right? WRONG! I’m so nervous. Okay, terrified. What if everything’s changed with the new school? It’ll mostly be all the same people, but it’s not like we’re actually friends. I don’t want to start all over. What if I have to sit by myself? That would be total social suicide. Chleo better let me sit with her. She has to…right? We had a deal. I hate having to follow Chleo around like one of her little minions but it’s better than being a loner. Aiden might be okay with it, but I’m not about to get tossed into a dumpster or hide out in a classroom during lunch. SO EMBARRASSING.

The last year has sucked, I can’t let it get any worse. I wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for HER. I don’t understand why she didn’t just tell everyonethat they were wrong. It was just a rumor that got out of hand. We were JUST FRIENDS. Why did she have to let everything get messed up? I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about Ana again, but since I’m technically writing this, that’s not cheating right? It’s just not fair that I’m here without a best friend. I miss the way things used to be before Chleo ruined it with her big mouth. But nobody cares if rumors are true or not if they have something to talk about.

Fingers crossed that’s all behind me now. We’re in high school now. We’re too mature for that. I hope so at least. Wish me luck.

Classic Becca, always the victim. Her words sink into my gums like annoying little popcorn kernel hulls. Now that I’ve had a taste, I need more, but each bite adds to my irritation. Naturally, I keep reading.

August 26th, 2005

Apparently, we’re not more mature. Why are people so annoying!! In biology today Emma Hall and Jordan Steele were whispering about me. Emma said she’s going to have her locker moved away from mine, so I don’t try to sneak a peek. I would be embarrassed but that doesn’t make sense. I don’t even like girls. Especially not conceited ones who spread lies. I was going to invite them to my birthday but now they’re off the list.

I NEED to kill this rumor once and for all. But how???

August 30th, 2005

Tracy says I need to pick a boy to date or lose my virginity. They both sound scary. There aren’t even any cute boys in our grade. Plus, I haven’t even kissed a boy before. I’ve only kissed Ana and that was just for practice, not even the real thing. I’m not ready. I told her that there are bases for a reason. She laughed at me. Tracy has no respect for the order of things.

September 12th, 2005

I’m going to the homecoming game tonight and I’m going to find a boy to kiss. How hard can it be? I know plenty of boys. One kiss and it’ll all beover. Easy. I CAN DO THIS. And then Tracy will see that doing it the right way was for the best.

September 17th. 2005

OMG Diary! I did it! I kissed a boy. It was weird and kind of gross. His lips weren’t soft like Ana’s, and he hardly moved them. I don’t think that’s how kissing is supposed to be. But maybe it’s different when it’s with a boy and it’s for real. Practicing with Ana didn’t count, we both agreed. Another reason why those rumors were so ridiculous. We were just friends.

Whatever. At least it’s over with. I have proof that I clearly like boys. I can go back to school on Monday and never have to hear somebody lie about me being … you know… again.

My stomach turns at how badly these pages reek of desperation, but I keep reading.

September 30th,2005

Hardly anyone seemed relieved about my kiss like I was. Tracy says kissing isn’t that big of a deal. THEN WHY WOULD IT BE A BIG DEAL IF I DID KISS A GIRL!!

Now she says I have to find a boyfriend that can help people forget I was gay. I told her I’m not and I never was. She just laughed at me. Note to self: stop asking Tracy for advice. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend either. What does she know? Maybe she’s the gay one.

October 10th, 2005

It’s official, all the boys in my grade are the WORST. I still don’t have a boyfriend, and I hate kissing. I kissed Michael H. when we all went to the movies last weekend and it was so slobbery. It was like kissing a dog. SO GROSS. I give up. I just want to focus on school and cheer. I can’t let my grades slip like they did last year.

November 20th, 2005

Danny Meyers says we’re going to the Winter Formal together. He’s a tenth grader and everyonesays we make a cute couple with our matching blue eyes. GAG ME. Blue eyes aren’t even my thing. I don’t want to go to Winter Formal with Danny. But maybe this is my chance to have a boyfriend. Plus, there’s no way I’m going to upset Chleo’s plans now and risk getting kicked out of the group. So I guess I’ll ask Mom to take me to the mall this weekend and look for a dress. Aiden is going to make so much fun of me when he finds out who I’m going with. Maybe I don’t have to tell him.

I didn’t get to go to any of my winter formals. Not that I wanted to. But nobody asked. Maybe it would have been nice to be asked. But I was never one of those girls like Becca who always had people lined up for a chance with her—at least not publicly.

December 5th, 2005

I went all the way. I lost my virginity. Danny knew I was trying to get to fourth base and said he would be happy to help me out since he knew what he was doing. I don’t know if he did, though. Is it supposed to hurt? And it was so fast. I really don’t get what all the excitement is about. It wasn’t like in the movies at all. I hope that settles it once and for all because I don’t ever want to do that again.

Instead of victorious, my chest aches. Her chasing approval from these losers is just sad to witness. She wouldn’t have had to fight for a place to belong if she hadn’t pushed me away. Maybe I wouldn’t have either.

And therein lies our deepest betrayal—she never gave us a chance.

84 Days Dead

Objectively, I know I shouldn’t want Becca. But there’s a faulty wire in my system that misfires every time I come to another crossroads where I have to resist her, like right now.

Rain is pouring down, but all I can hear are Becca’s cries. Over the thunder and the lightning, the only thing that reaches my ears is her screaming—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Distorted by the sharp claws of grief, her voice is gritty and torn up.

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