The Irresistible Mickey Holly

Entry 6: Girls. Girls. Girls.

It's not her fault.

Honestly, she's a lovely girl. I've spoken to her on several occasions. She's clever and has a sense of humor. She's super nice, too nice like the human equivalent to a fluffy bunny. It's not her fault that I fell for her boyfriend and every time I see her I want to slam her fingers into my locker. There's so many times I imagined her fingers popping off.

Profile: Lindsay Winkle

(I've found it very difficult to write a nonbiased profile on her)

· Limp pale brown hair. Wrinkled dress shirts with her uniform.

· Bowlegged.

· High. Whiney voice.

She walked into the newspaper room. I sat on top of Joseph's desk, striking my red pen through his poor grammar and his inability to create a comprehensive sentence. In exchange, he gave me a very large coffee (I ignored the scribbled label underneath the rim: breakfast, wishing to avoid any more fighting). Yet, I couldn't help but pay attention to Lindsay. She glanced around until someone pointed her towards Mickey by the computers. She smiled and fucking frolicked through the classroom to reach him.

"Hey babe," she tapped his shoulder and he spun around, giving her his complete attention.

"Hey babe, might I say you look even better than the last time I saw you."

"You mean fifteen minutes ago?"

Mickey Holly used to not be so cheesy.

I gagged loud enough to be noticed and Cathy chucked a paper wad at me. She had been waiting for her moment to strike. She kept a few paper balls in her arsenal to punish me (probably because she didn't have a spray bottle handy). Pushing up my glasses, I glanced back at Joseph's article. Over the top of the paper, I watched Lindsay sit by the keyboard. Quickly, Mickey moved it away so she wouldn't accidentally turn his Caps lock on.

"Troy, Jason, Mandy and me—" Mandy and I "—were going to order some pizza and eat it in Mr. Thompson's room. We're all gonna watch a movie, wanna come?"

Going to. Want to. When did it become too hard to say want to? If I could just take a red pen to her, I'd make her do everything over.

"Sorry, I can't," Mickey frowned. He explained, "I have a lot of work to do here and I really want to get it done before practice."

She frowned and tried begging, but Cathy chucked another ball of paper and this time I really did continue to correct Joseph's article. I finished up promptly and told Joseph to come back to me later when he remembered how to use commas. I went to find Lisa, the head editor and asked if she had a skeleton key for the school. She asked why and I told her it was better if she didn't know. She said she didn't and that she probably wouldn't give it to me anyway, not after my mental breakdown yesterday.

Apparently, that was the headline yesterday.

Cathy and Joseph obviously didn't stick up for me either. I'm shown again that despite being crazy, Jacks was still a better friend. He might not believe me either, but at least he listened.

I slipped away, avoiding most of the eye contact from my peers and especially from Mickey Holly. I always raised my chin and puffed out my chest when I passed that guy. The specifics are not important, but I own a copy of Mickey Holly's schedule.

I put my feet in his shoes and walked a normal day in the life of a fake. My school could be taken directly out of a Victorian horror flick, complete with portraits that watch you walk and creaky wooden floors. There should be a woman in white sprinting down the hallway, screaming about the ghosts or the blood running down the walls.