Take My Advice

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The rest of the day was a total waste, as far as concentrating went. Amanda was mad at me, Bruce was mad at me, and I didn't know how to fix any of it. When I got home, I told my mom I wasn't hungry, and I stayed in my room the rest of the evening with my iPod up high and my school books spread out in front of me. My life had spun out of control-I needed to concentrate on something else, something that wouldn't slip out from under me, like history or anatomy. I wouldn't wake up tomorrow and find out that the heart no longer controlled the flow of blood-that was a constant, something I could rely on.  

I should have been excited when I got to school the next morning. It was Friday, and that's the day the school newspaper came out. Now, you're probably thinking, "My school doesn't have a weekly paper. What gives?" See, we do a smaller paper once a week-a single sheet, printed on both sides-and then a larger edition once a month. That one actually has, like, four pages and stuff. We didn't used to do that, but I mentioned that Colby has a one-track mind when it comes to . . . well, everything . . . right? When he was made editor-in-chief, he suggested the smaller installments and got permission. Something about school unity. My column, being one of the most popular, gets room on the second page every single time.  

I grabbed a copy and skimmed it on my way to first period. It looked good. I nodded with satisfaction as I took my seat. Advice to the lovelorn-that was me. That's where I shone. I'd leave this whole serious-problem business to the professionals.  

Two girls walked into class, giggling over their copies of the paper. As always, I wondered if one of them could have sent me a letter, and then I made myself think about something else. As tempting as it was sometimes, I wasn't supposed to play detective to figure out who wrote to me. Like I said before, it was all anonymous. And then Bruce popped back into my head. Sheesh! No matter what I did, my brain was just going to keep circling back around to Bruce. I knew I'd done the right thing-why couldn't I stop thinking about it? I was driving myself insane, and I couldn't get rid of the heavy weight that was sitting on my chest.  

Dylan plunked down behind me and leaned forward. "Hey! Great column. I can see why you're so popular around here."  

"Popular?"  

"Yeah. You know, the Dr. Jill posters and stuff. Everyone knows who you are."  

"That's not a sign of popularity. That's someone's idea of bullying."  

"Bullying, admiration-it's a pretty fine line sometimes, don't you think?"  

Class started and I thought about what he'd said. I seriously doubted those posters were a sign of admiration. Come on-what teenage girl wants her face superimposed over Dr. Phil's? He's hardly the symbol of coolness. Although he is the symbol of smartness, which is a compliment, in a way . . . I guess if I wanted to start thinking about things like Dylan did, I could see it as a positive. Oh, great-now I was going to start preaching about happy bunnies and pots of gold at the end of the rainbow. What was this guy doing to me?  

"So, did you do your thing?" Dylan asked after class as we gathered up our stuff and walked out into the hallway.  

"What thing?"  

"Your hard thing. From yesterday."  

I must have looked as lost as I felt.  

"I challenged you and Amanda to do something hard, remember? She talked to Mario, I put in my bid to play Anne of Green Gables . . . "  

Oh, yeah. I remembered that. "You were going to audition for Gilbert, not Anne."  

"See, you do remember. And did you fulfill your part of the bargain?"