Chapter Two

I’m all sweaty from gym. I am not an athlete, but I bet you guessed that. I’m small and scrawny, with weird pockets of fat in places, like my stomach. I’m not ugly though.
Mark is in my gym class. He looked like this nice Jewish boy, with curly dark hair and a big smile. He wears huge headphones all the time, he loves hip-hop and rap. He’s kind of weird, too. He’s not popular, but I don’t think he cares. He’s in my gym and my English classes, and he doesn’t really seem to have friends either. He just kind of bops through the halls with his headphones and baggy jeans, occasionally saying weird stuff in class. I think I could be friends with him. He always turns around the say stuff to me, I think he gets it. gets that I need talking to every once in a while. Today in gym he passed me the ball in basketball. I turned, shielding my face, and the ball bounced away sadly.
“Olive, homie, you gotta catch it.” He laughed, not meanly though.
“I don’t want to.” I didn’t.
“Make the ball your bitch, O, show that ball who’s the boss.”
I didn’t respond. I probably should have, I think, but the bell was going to ring, and there was no point, really.
The journal isn’t bad, Ms. Bloch.
I just ate dinner with my parents, and I told them about Mark and the ball. They laughed, and seemed relieved. Astor asked if Mark was my boyfriend. She watched soap operas in the afternoon, and is starting to get all sorts of ideas about boys and girls. I guess as far as boyfriends would go, Mark would be ok. He lives in my neighborhood; we used to play Peter Pan when we were little. I was Wendy.
There’s this song I love, by this band called The Blow, called in my room. I like my room a lot. I don’t have a TV or anything, but in the songs it says:
Things do to, yeah; I’ve got them in my roomI've got it going on. The silence of the phone not ringing
Is just a present thing under my, my mind.

I wrote that in the correct form, right, Ms. Bloch? Anyway, I like to listen to that song in my room, and dance around. Sometimes Astor does it with me. She likes cool music for a little kid. I like to look online for new bands and things. Music is like math, I think. Mark is good at math too, or he used to be. That’s why he’s not cool; He’s too smart. He talks like he’s not smart, but he is. I bet he thinks music is like math too.
Anyway, one of my least favorite characters is Mike Healy. But he sure likes himself. He has a crush on Taylor, which he satisfies by making fun of her in class. He’s on the soccer team, and he goofs off in class to get attention. He makes fun of Tim Carter a lot. Tim makes me look like Ms. Popularity. He’s got acne, and he smells, but he’s ok I guess. I was on the science team til I realized that meant I had to talk at meets, and he was on it with me. He’s quiet, but really nice. I think he has a crush on me, because he always stares at the back of my neck in History class. I can smell him the whole time. He walks home from school every day, which is really uncool. You’re supposed to drive, or at least take the bus. He carries his lunch box, orange, like a purse, too. I think he cares that he’s a loser. He should stop caring, like me and Mark. But he’s worse off than me. He seems to offend Mike, and Mike acts like he deserves to be made fun of. He used to call me Olive Oil, but when no one thought it was funny he stopped.
Another one of my favorites is Jonas Whittaker. He’s this art kid who’s in my English class. He sketches all the time, and is as bad at reading as I am. He’s really beautiful, I think. I named a doll after him too. I think I have a crush on him, because I like to imagine what it’d be like to have him as my boyfriend. He’s got long blonde hair and these nice brown eyes, like a dog. That sounds weird, but it’s what I think. He wears a cool leather jacket, and I know he likes the same music as me, I can just tell. I don’t dress cool. I just wear a black t-shirt and jeans, most days. I like my black t-shirts. They’re kind of tight, which is my attempt to be sort of sexy. I like black, which is why I like Jonas’ jacket. I wish I could wear his jacket, smell the leather. Wearing black is neutral, you know, but it keeps you from blending in totally. My black is boring, but Jonas’ black is mysterious. I wish I could draw or something. Then I could be in his art class.