Libby Emburt: Diary Entry 4

Ok, Mary-Margaret officially hates my guts... Maybe I should stop calling her MM - I meant it like the candy, not the rapper. But she tends to take offense to whatever I say ever since I pierced my nose, cut my hair short, started going to concerts, and, apparently, lost my faith. We used to be such friends when we were just little.

Anyway, we have to read Romeo and Juliet aloud in English and Miss Saunders assigned us parts. She says she assigns them on a random basis, not who acts best or who acts like who in the play. You could tell Morgan was dying to be Juliet [I don't see why - she's a total git. I mean, she meets this random guy, gets married, and dies all in what two days?!?!] but Miss Saunders gave it to Natasha instead. You should have seen the look on Morgan's face, she was all gaping at Saunders like, but she can't - she's awful at play-acting! But Natasha goes all red and ducks her chin in her book. You could tell she reeeeeally didn't want to read it, but Saunders is always trying to get her out of her shell and everything so she did anyway.

We were running out of guys in the class, so Miss Saunders made me Mercutio and Mary-Margaret Balthasar. This made MM kind of upset, because she isn't all that comfortable playing a boy's part. Also, she's the one who had to tell Romeo [Damien] that Juliet was dead. Course, Damien was totally milking the part and was being all melodramatic like, Oh, my fair Juliet!! through the whole thing, interrupting MM whenever he could with these pathetic sobs.

Er... but that's obviously not why Mary-Margaret's mad at me.

No. Mary-Margaret O-Fee is angry at me because her mum invited me over to their house again. She still thinks MM and I are bestest friends forever, or, if she doesn't, just thinks high school girls should be having sleep-overs and a million friends like she did at MM's age.

So MM and I are stuck in the same room [me on the floor with my old Hunchback of Notre Dame sleeping bag - I love Clopin - and Mary-Margaret up on her four poster princess bed], and I'm just staring at the ceiling. So's MM, but she's more burning a hole in the roof than staring. I try talking to her about just stuff, like Leggett in Math with his stupid combover, but she's totally ignoring me. I try every stupid thing I think of, but she doesn't say anything.

I eventually sit up and she's turned with her back to me and, I guess, asleep.

We didn't talk at breakfast either. Or, you know, she didn't, but I tried.

While she was in the bathroom [she always wears this prim bun to school that takes forever to fix, with these thin frame glasses that make her look all squinty] I was dressing in her closet. She has all these porceilan dolls on a shelf above her jackets, by the way. I was trying to get my shirt on, but the closet was so tiny!! She came running when she heard it shatter. It was her favorite. All I could say was, I'm sorry, I'm SORRY, over and over, but she just kind of melted on the floor, with her bun half up and her glasses hanging on the edge of her nose.

Then I, er, finished pulling on my shirt.

That's why Mary-Margaret O'Fee officially hats my guts.

The End

19 comments about this story Feed