“She has ESB,” I say.Chloe rolls her eyes. “ESP you mean?”“No, ESB. Extrasensory Bitchyness.”

“Sure, okay, I'll pick up some cat litter. Anything else?""Watch your back, G." Then she hung up.Hero paused in her sobbing to look at me quizzically. "Why does your mom want cat litter? You guys don't even have a cat.""She uses it for..." I searched my brain madly, but all I could come up with was "teaching.""She uses cat litter to teach English?"I nodded. "She's kind of unconventional in her methods."Hero frowned. "But how does she use it?"The girl was relentless when she fixated on something. "Um, when their papers are really bad, she gives them a little bag of cat litter. It's her way of telling them their writing is crap." I laughed. "She's kooky.”

“Went home briefly to get my halter dress for Hero's party, and Mom was waiting for me at the kitchen table. Either she's psychic, or she totally reads my journal, because I haven't said a word about Ben, but somehow she knows something is up.She was siting with a tray of peanut butter crackers, milk, and about twenty pamphlets on STDs she got from her friend Connie, a nurse at Kaiser. When she started showing me pictures of genital warts, I put my cracker down and said, 'Mom, is this really necessary?' She said, 'Honey, I just want you to understand the risks.''Yeah, thanks. Now I'm so traumatized I won't have sex until I'm a senior citizen.'She smiled. 'Great. I guess I've done my job then. Do you want a sandwich.”

“I despise the rituals of fake friendship. I wish we could just claw each other's eyes out and call it a day; instead we put on huge radiant smiles and spout compliments until our teeth hurt from the saccharine sweetness of it all.”

“I hope the people I hurt can see past the prank to the very real respect and affection I feel for them. If not, I may have to take my own advice, buy myself some cute shoes and march on. I hope that's not how it ends, though. I hope this boy-meets-girl-pretending-to-be-boy story has a happy ending, one with less bitter and more sweet.”

“Sometimes, a girl just has to dive under the duvet and regroup.”

“Are you mad?" I ask."I was." He glances at the ceiling then back at me. "Or confused, anyway. The whole thing threw me through for a loop. I thought I'd finally met a guy at Underwood I could relate to, and it turns out he wasn't a guy at all."I swallow. "I can see how that would be weird." "In a way though, I was relieved.""Relieved?" I echo. "Why?"He looks around embarrased. "Let's just say you had me questioning my sexual orientation.”