for the door.
“Terrific!” he says, his face brightening. “Let me know what you decide.”
“Oh, I wil ,” I say as I shuffle out of the classroom and head toward the library. I have a sinking feeling that my days of doodling through math
class are official y over.
Scout’s Honor
Okay, who are these people? And why are they seriously trying to ruin my life?
Only ONE person out of twenty-seven thinks that I should go to the club opening with Hunter? ONE???? Do they not get how gorgeous he
is? Do they not understand how sexy his accent is? Maybe I should have posted a photo. Except that would kind of defeat the whole anonymous
thing. Wel then, maybe I should have recorded his voice and posted it as a sound clip. Then they could have at least heard what they were voting
against.
And 81 percent of these people think that I should go on that extra credit field trip for health class. How did this happen? How did my blog
end up in the hands of goody-two-shoes science buffs? That’s not real y the audience I intended. I mean, seriously, people! Get a life. Maybe if you
weren’t so busy watching rugby and going to random science exhibits, you’d have a cute guy with a roman numeral after his name inviting you to hot
new downtown clubs.
As I sit in the library seething at the screen, I’m so frustrated I can barely even get excited about the fact that my blog readership has more
than doubled in size. Twenty-seven voters. That’s a lot. Word must be spreading quickly.
Too bad al twenty-seven of them are complete morons who are probably alone and bitter and have nothing better to do with their time than
read teenage blogs and vote on other people’s lives, but whatever.
I scrol through my latest entry, rereading everything I wrote, searching for something I might have left out—something that might have
swayed the vote the wrong way—when I notice an unusual notation at the bottom of the posting that says “5 comments.”
Comments? People are commenting? I total y forgot you could even do that!
I click on the link and am immediately brought to the comment page. Excitedly I scan the remarks, searching for a clue as to why these
people would vote against me having any fun in this fun-forsaken life of mine.
Comment 1:
Sorry, BB, but I don’t think your parents would approve. I’m proud of you for establishing a life of your own, but I think you should stay home
this time.
Comment 2:
Red sounds cute. But he also sounds like a bit of a “bad boy.” Probably not the best choice for you at this point in your life. Good luck!
Comment 3:
Thanks for the blog! It’s super entertaining. I’ve forwarded it to al my friends and they’re voting now too. I hope everything works out for you,
BB!
Comment 4:
What’s Heimlich’s story? Is he cute?
Comment 5:
FYI…the name is “Rhett Butler,” not “Red Butler.”
I lean back in my chair and scowl at the screen. “Bad boy”? What the heck does that person know? And yes, it’s true. My parents probably
would disapprove of me going to a club opening downtown, but that’s only because my last nocturnal activity didn’t turn out so wel . But stil , I real y
want to go! And it’s not like I’d be stupid enough to burn down another building.
Wel , at least there’s stil over a week and a half before the club opening. I’m bound to get some more supporters by then.
With a sigh, I close the browser and push myself out of my seat. When I peer down at the clock on the screen, I’m very pleased to see that
there’s only five minutes left of lunch.
In English class, I’m so distracted by my disappointing pol outcome that I’m hardly able to focus on the Grapes of Wrath discussion.
“Hel o?” Brian asks for the second time, waving his hand in front of my face to get my attention. “Are you there?”
I blink away my trance and try to concentrate. “Sorry. What did you ask?”
Brian smiles and repeats the question from the study guide
“Terrific!” he says, his face brightening. “Let me know what you decide.”
“Oh, I wil ,” I say as I shuffle out of the classroom and head toward the library. I have a sinking feeling that my days of doodling through math
class are official y over.
Scout’s Honor
Okay, who are these people? And why are they seriously trying to ruin my life?
Only ONE person out of twenty-seven thinks that I should go to the club opening with Hunter? ONE???? Do they not get how gorgeous he
is? Do they not understand how sexy his accent is? Maybe I should have posted a photo. Except that would kind of defeat the whole anonymous
thing. Wel then, maybe I should have recorded his voice and posted it as a sound clip. Then they could have at least heard what they were voting
against.
And 81 percent of these people think that I should go on that extra credit field trip for health class. How did this happen? How did my blog
end up in the hands of goody-two-shoes science buffs? That’s not real y the audience I intended. I mean, seriously, people! Get a life. Maybe if you
weren’t so busy watching rugby and going to random science exhibits, you’d have a cute guy with a roman numeral after his name inviting you to hot
new downtown clubs.
As I sit in the library seething at the screen, I’m so frustrated I can barely even get excited about the fact that my blog readership has more
than doubled in size. Twenty-seven voters. That’s a lot. Word must be spreading quickly.
Too bad al twenty-seven of them are complete morons who are probably alone and bitter and have nothing better to do with their time than
read teenage blogs and vote on other people’s lives, but whatever.
I scrol through my latest entry, rereading everything I wrote, searching for something I might have left out—something that might have
swayed the vote the wrong way—when I notice an unusual notation at the bottom of the posting that says “5 comments.”
Comments? People are commenting? I total y forgot you could even do that!
I click on the link and am immediately brought to the comment page. Excitedly I scan the remarks, searching for a clue as to why these
people would vote against me having any fun in this fun-forsaken life of mine.
Comment 1:
Sorry, BB, but I don’t think your parents would approve. I’m proud of you for establishing a life of your own, but I think you should stay home
this time.
Comment 2:
Red sounds cute. But he also sounds like a bit of a “bad boy.” Probably not the best choice for you at this point in your life. Good luck!
Comment 3:
Thanks for the blog! It’s super entertaining. I’ve forwarded it to al my friends and they’re voting now too. I hope everything works out for you,
BB!
Comment 4:
What’s Heimlich’s story? Is he cute?
Comment 5:
FYI…the name is “Rhett Butler,” not “Red Butler.”
I lean back in my chair and scowl at the screen. “Bad boy”? What the heck does that person know? And yes, it’s true. My parents probably
would disapprove of me going to a club opening downtown, but that’s only because my last nocturnal activity didn’t turn out so wel . But stil , I real y
want to go! And it’s not like I’d be stupid enough to burn down another building.
Wel , at least there’s stil over a week and a half before the club opening. I’m bound to get some more supporters by then.
With a sigh, I close the browser and push myself out of my seat. When I peer down at the clock on the screen, I’m very pleased to see that
there’s only five minutes left of lunch.
In English class, I’m so distracted by my disappointing pol outcome that I’m hardly able to focus on the Grapes of Wrath discussion.
“Hel o?” Brian asks for the second time, waving his hand in front of my face to get my attention. “Are you there?”
I blink away my trance and try to concentrate. “Sorry. What did you ask?”
Brian smiles and repeats the question from the study guide
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