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September 7 Sunday

Amy finally left after I told her three times I needed to study. I don�t really, but I needed some quiet. Amy�s a lot of fun and my best friend, but sometimes she�s over the top crazy. I don�t think I�ve ever seen her sit still for longer than 2 minutes. Even in class, her foot is tapping, or her knee is jumping.

Spending Friday night with her and all day today was almost too much. I just wanted to scream, �Shut up for two seconds and let me think!�

As soon as she left, I pulled out the ironing board and let the calmness flow over my body, the warmth of the fabric seep into my pores and the crispness of the creases erase the chaos that is often my life.

Over dramatic? Maybe. How I feel? Definitely.

Dad got home on Friday and will be home all next week, so mom seems more in control. He did play golf this morning and I caught her cleaning when I woke up, but her eyes weren�t as cloudy and she put the bleach away before he came home.

I�m not sure if I should say something to him, or see if it works itself out. And, if I don�t say anything, will Jeremy blurt it out?

Somehow I doubt that. He and Dad aren�t talking too much lately. Dad wants him to play football, baseball, basketball, or even soccer. Jeremy is like mom and me though and would rather read. I�ve even seen him scribbling in a notebook alone in his room, but I haven�t asked if it is anything I can read.

When we were little, our favorite pastime was the game where one person starts a story and each person adds a paragraph or two. Depending on which one of us started the game, we would have a story about kings, queens and knights or Indians and cowboys. More often than not the two would mix and a cowboy and princess would end up together.

That�s how it should be though, no?

Speaking of cowboys and princesses. I�m nervous about school tomorrow. Lana is pretty popular and I wonder if anyone will say anything about me hanging out with her boyfriend all night. Hopefully, she was too drunk to notice.

Or maybe not. Maybe she broke up with him and he�s looking for me, wandering the streets calling my name. Lamenting a love lost.

Or maybe he was too drunk to even remember.

I�m still scared to write about him too much and the butterflies that take over my stomach when his name is mentioned, which Amy made sure to do on a regular basis all weekend.

The football game is away this week, so I know it will be at least two weeks before there is a hope of seeing him.

How will I make it?



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