Tuesday 29th November, 2:43 PM - Maths class. Because you know what? Screw calculus.

You know what I hate?

Stupid cryptic messages. Especially when they're from Feliks Łukasiewicz.

Seriously, why doesn't anyone just say what they mean any more? Why does everyone insist on winks and nudges and ambiguous little comments that don't mean anything except you know they do but you can't for the life of you figure out what? It's like they expect me to read their minds or pick up on their tiny physical cues or something. Body language = not my strong suit. Just because I don't have a social IQ on par with Einstein doesn't mean I should be excluded from like, every conversation ever.

We - the newspaper club, that is - decided that as one of our weekly features, we'd do a piece on one of the other extracurricular clubs. You know, like the football club, the chess club, that sort of thing. Give some of the more obscure ones some exposure and let people know what there is to choose from. Besides, everyone's much more keen to buy a newspaper when they know they're in it, even if it's just to say they willingly give up their lunchtimes to move bits of wood around coloured squares on a board. And since the debating club was having it out with another local high school this lunchtime, Lizzie insisted we go and cover it.

So I ended up slouched in a stupid little plastic chair in the middle of the library with my notebook on my knee and my pen in my mouth as Arthur told the audience in no uncertain terms exactly why foreign languages should be compulsory in schools. I was supposed to be making notes but let me tell you, it's really difficult to keep track of debates when your mind just won't concentrate. Feliks was on my left with his camera in his lap, apparently done with what he called 'action shots' of the debate in progress and waiting for the 'team shots' afterwards. On my right, Lizzie was scribbling furiously in her little pink book. I could see a whole page already full of that loopy handwriting of hers. The 'c's are indistinguishable from the 'e's, her 'r's are barely there and her 't's are all wonky, but it's actually kind of sweet.

Fine. Let her do all the work. It's not like I was gonna come up with anything productive anyway with her putting me off like that. My own notebook read:

Topic - something about foreign languages. First speaker - Yao Wang. He sounds weird. Second speaker - Arthur Kirkland. Wish he'd shut up. Third speaker - Minh Nguyen. She scares the shit out of me. Team advisor - Kiku Honda. Talking about as much as he usually does. They seem pretty good, I don't know. Just write something later.

Somehow I didn't think that would cut it with Lizzie, so I kept chewing my pen in the hopes that it would make it look like I was actually thinking.

The debate finished. We won. I didn't even notice until they started making thank-you speeches and shaking hands. The other team left, the audience began to file out to enjoy the rest of their lunchtime doing whatever they pleased and we headed over to interview the victors.

They looked a bit nonplussed as Feliks started fussing over them, arranging Arthur's fringe and straightening Yao's tie until he was satisfied with their appearance. "Photos for the Gazette," he said, pulling them all into a line. "We're doing like, a feature thing on the debate team. Big smiles, now. Say cheese!" The flash went off, startling everyone. Feliks checked the digital display and gave them all a big thumbs-up.

Lizzie snapped her notebook shut. "Is it okay if Gil asks you some questions?"

Yao opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. "What? What questions?"

"You're interviewing them. For the article. Remember?"

Okay, so I might have said I was going to interview them. Ages ago. And it was a stupid off-hand comment. Trust Lizzie to take it seriously. The truth was that I just didn't feel like it, and I told her so. Why should I? When she's sitting next to me the whole time taking notes and being all, I don't know, there? What did a stupid little interview matter in the grand scheme of things? With all the crap she was writing we must have enough material to write a novel on the Gakuen High debate club. What does she think I can contribute? I'm just stupid, irresponsible Gilbert Beillschmidt, too immature for her and her sophisticated new life. Why does she even bother keeping me around these days when she obviously already has everything she wants?

In the end, it was Lizzie who interviewed the debate team. I don't know what she asked them or what they said. I was too busy sitting on the comfy seats in the corner of the library and glowering at them. Why does my life have to suck so much? I mean, nothing's wrong, but I just get the feeling that everything's pointless these days. Why have I never noticed just how crap the world is until today?

Ten minutes later, Lizzie's interview was over and she was on the warpath. I sat up as she approached, stalking across the library with the sternest bitchface she could muster glued to her skull. This was not going to be fun.

"I know this mood of yours," she hissed, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. "I've seen it so many times before I can't even count. It's your 'something hasn't gone my way so I'm going to sit here and sulk about it like a crybaby' mood. I don't know what's made you start acting like this but I'm telling you now, for God's sake stop acting like the entire world revolves around you. You'd better grow up and snap out of it before I snap you."

And, before I could come up with any kind of a comeback, she'd turned and marched out of the library without a backwards glance. I watched her go, still slightly stunned by her outburst; it was only the pressure on the seat next to me that told me that someone had sat down next to me.

Great. All I needed now was a heart-to-heart with Feliks. "What do you want, Polski?"

"She's right, you know." So he'd just come to continue Lizzie's little rant. Brilliant. I never ceased to enjoy hearing about what an inadequate human being I was. But before I could tell him to shut up, he cut me off. "Look, I know that whole thing with Edelstein yesterday hasn't made you the happiest of campers." He flashed me that heavy-lidded sideways look of his. "But if it was gonna make you this upset, maybe you should've like, done something about it earlier. It's not Lizzie's fault it's pissing you off so much. But honestly? Acting like this isn't gonna win you any favours from anyone, if you know what I mean."

And then he got up and followed Lizzie out of the library, leaving me just sitting there like an idiot. I didn't come up with an answer this time not because I was stunned but because I was completely confused. What the hell did he mean by that? There was the obvious meaning, of course: you don't like Roderich, he came back and took you by surprise and that must suck, but being grumpy will just make everyone hate you. Fair enough. But the way he said it made me wonder if there wasn't some kind of subtext I was meant to be picking up on. It wasn't like it was bothering me. Nothing was bothering me. But like I said, I suck at subtext.

Honestly, I just suck at life.


GAKUEN HIGH WINS 3-0

by Alfred F. Jones

This whole match was TOTALLY AWESOME. Don't believe me? Read on, my friend, read on.

Okay, so the first few minutes weren't. The other team must've really drunk their Gatorade that morning because they were right up by our net before we knew it! We managed to stop them from scoring, but it was a close call. Freaked us right out. Luckily I was there to save the day!

But after that, right, they thought they had it in the bag. They were overconfident. I sensed it in the air. So you know what we did? We capitalised on their weakness! I dribbed the ball to the halfway mark and passed it to Mathias (who is like, this amazing striker. Still a bit weak with his left foot but he'll get there!) and he did awesomely, but the other defenders were catching up to him so he had to pass it back to me. But that was okay, because I was right in line with the goal! The other team was ready, so I feinted left, kicked the ball and scored! One-nil to Gakuen High courtesy of Alfred F. Jones!

Now the other team knew they had to get it together. They were taking us seriously now. They shot up the pitch from the halfway line, right up towards our goal, and for a moment there I thought they were gonna score. My heart was in my throat, man. But I hadn't noticed Defender of the Year Matthew Williams sneak up behind them and take the ball right from under their noses! You go, Mattie! He booted it down the field to Mathias and I knew what I had to do. I raced down the field at like, a million miles an hour, Mathias booted it to me and I headed it right into the back of the net! GOAL! You should've been there, man! It was so cool!

By now we were two-nil up and I knew the other team could never come back, so I let Mathias have a chance to score. He deserved it, you know? He'd tried so hard setting up all my amazing goals for me. And he did! Final score three-nil, all thanks to the Hero of Gakuen High, Alfred F. Jones.