Sorry I couldn't write yesterday, but it seems Ms. Wobble wasn't in good shape. In any case, I had to stand by her bed looking sad and guilty for the entire day while Mrs. Mask, the school drama instructor, rated my work. I got an A minus, so now I'm thinking I might take up acting. Just a thought.
Anyways, now that I've escaped from that hospital, I might as well report on the newest rumor to circle the school: that Joe Meecock has, in fact, made out with the girl who burned his own sister's schoolbag. The idea doesn't sound bad to me, but sadly it isn't true. However, I may hold out on informing everyone about that, because all of the single people in my grade are now worshiping the ground I walk on. Literally. One girl was kissing the bathroom floor where I stepped earlier this morning. Ew.
My homework today is from Mrs. Mask, who was so impressed with my acting that she challenged me to convince my parents that I am an alien who was replaced with their real child, who has three feet, at birth. I'm not entirely sure how Mrs. Mask will know if I accomplished it or not, but I suspect she may have bugged all of the phone lines leading to the tabloids. True, my parents wouldn't ever shove off a deal like that; I heard they pay the people who make up stories for them over $1000. I could buy an uPhone with that. And don't think I won't!
Dinner today was a ham-bacon-mystery meat sandwich. It was gross.