A/n sorry about the weird format, it might change later, I don't know, please don't flame me, it's my first fanfic, and my tender unsullied (*snort*) mind of moderately youngish proportions might not be able to handle severe heat- on second thought, flame me all you want, it could be interesting. I wonder if I could use it to stop my evil hellcat (one of them) from attacking me so much. hmm. I don't know what a senior would take for math if she took algebra in 7th grade (like I did, teehee), or what science, so just excuse the elementary terms. I had something else to say, but I forgot it. Oh! This isn't it, but it'll do-thanx, Harp and Abby, for reviewing while it was in progress, and for everything else (including your personalities on loan ; ) ) By the way, can anyone explain (in a WONDERFUL review : D *cheesy smile*) what on earth a beta reader is? And as far as I know, the post is open, unless my friend Harper (she appears later, in another a/n) fits the bill. Judith is sorta based on me, except for the looks, but she's a bit more something, (and I don't live in New York, but I've visited there from Austin, Texas) PLEASE R/r!!

Disclaimer- oh, puhleeze. Does anybody actually read these, anyway? Oh, well, here goes a pointless waste of time. I own nada EXCEPT for: the placement and choice of the words in the diaries. the adjectives describing how people write. the characters other than Mia's thoughts (or do they count as mine???). Judith's personality. the changes that were made to Michael. Bibi. and the girl who isn't really in here yet, but will be soon (take THAT, Harper!). etc. Oh, and I just remembered: I own Jenny, too. I think. Actually, I technically don't really own either half of Michael, or Bibi, or the soon- to-be character. the real people's (since people is plural, do you put the apostrophe before or after the s? oh, shut up, Abby, I care) parents do, until they're 18 (or is it 21? I think it's 18, but li'l ol' me don't know nuttin'). Oh, well, humour me here.

Judith Gershner, senior at Albert Einstein high school, pulled a small turquoise spiral-bound journal off of the white wall shelf in her room, and curled up in the nest of pillows, blankets, and books at the foot of her bed to write. She flipped to a clean page, and her pencil started racing across the white paper.

Who am I kidding? Of course it would be neat-- great-- if Michael started liking me. Actually, if ANYBODY half-nice started liking me. Look at me- a senior in high school, and no one has liked me since that jerk in third grade. No one thinks of tall, shy, smart Judith as 'likeable'. They all think of her as 'oh, yeah, her- she's the smart one who took algebra in seventh grade, and didn't she clone a fruit fly sometime? I don't know her that well; she seems pretty nice.' I don't even want to be remembered as cloning a stupid fruit fly, I want people to know Judith Gershner as the girl whose words live and dance and cry. The fruit fly was just a weird accidential side project anyway, and I wasn't really trying to clone it, just running different experiments on it. Actually, I guess it's a little hard for people to know about my writing when I don't show it to anyone. But that's digressing. I don't even actually really like Michael; I just want somebody I know and like/respect to realize that I'm a GIRL. I've thought about liking Michael since about seventh grade, but that's just because he's probably the most mature boy I know. He still hasn't grown into his ego, though- hopefully that will shrink when we're at Columbia. I don't know if I still want to go there, though. Swarthmore might be nicer. Hmm. something to think about. Nothing very interesting is going on in my life right now, except that Michael is more into the newest girl than ever-although she isn't so new any more, seeing as he's liked her for going on three or four years now, and hidden it pretty well, considering that I wasn't paying attention for a while (several years). I'm having a problem with one section of the computer game; I'll have to ask Michael or Jenny about it. I really need to remember to buy black tights, because I had to wear (shudder) tan pantyhose yesterday. Oh! Here's my latest conversation with Michael about his and my love lives, or lack thereof: Me: Michael, why won't you tell me? It would do you plenty of good to confide in someone about who you like. You've been preoccupied and listless lately. Come on, you know I never tell. Michael (M): Yes, you did, you told that Baby-kid in seventh grade Me: (punches him, lightly) Michael: Ow! What'd you do that for? Me: Stop playing dumb- wait, that's your actual personality. Don't give me the puppy face, you know I'm only joking. And you deserved it. Please call her Bibi, like you should. And I only told her because that was old news, and both of them were pressuring me, and Bibi got mad at me, and you know I can't stand it when she does. Get mad at me, I mean. But I didn't tell besides that time. M: Give me one really good reason why I should tell you. Me: Well, I always have those pictures, you know, from our sophmore and junior years. and all that information on you. you know that time last year?. for that I even have a video. and remember my famed elbows and how much they can hurt you, not to mention my hands and feet. haven't I always been nice to you, huh, Michael? Don't you think you should tell little old Judith all about it, huh? M: oh! Well, in that case, er. the bell's about to ring. Why don't you come over this afternoon to work on that Computer Club stuff? Me: You mean, so you can yak and eat and I can squint at your impossible computer for hours, doing your work. I really think your computer hates me or something. For heaven's sake, can't you just get a bookshelf in that hellhole of yours? Books are so much better than computers, anyway. M: So why are you in the Computer Club? Me: Because I don't want to babysit my brat siblings all afternoon until my mom gets home all grumpy from dealing with out of control first graders, and my dad gets home all grumpy from dealing with out of control undergrads. Besides, I do need to learn more about computers. M: Oh. (pause) Who is taking you to the Nondenominational dance thingy? Me: (looking very uncomfortable) Nobody. M: Why not? Me: (sigh) Come on, Michael. It's not like we haven't had this conversation before. It's because no one wants to be seen with majorly introverted, socially crippled, too-tall, too-curvy, too-smart, too- old-fashioned, too-weird Judith Gershner. Who, might I add, has a huge nose and gargantuan hands that just sort of dangle from wrists that are too small for the rest of her oversized body, and stunted-in-some- areas-and-over-grown-in-others brain. Remember about my totally non- existent, so non-existent that it must be measured to the left of zero on a number line, social life as far as boys and most people go, doofus? Except you and a couple others. M: That's not true, Judith. Me: You're a terrible liar, Michael. How else can you explain the totally zero amount of interest any boy has paid in me since Aaron in third grade, who doesn't count? Also not counting the boys who hung around during class to try to get me to give them answers, who were so utterly deluded to even think of such a thing that they are really not worth thinking about. M: You don't know that nobody's liked you since- Me: Forever? Yes, I do. A: nobody told me, and with boys they always tell someone, and then it eventually leaks out that so-and-so liked so- and-so in the such-and-such-grade. And B: I have paid attention to all the small signs about people liking other people, which are, with the exception of myself most times, always there. M: Well, maybe you were just too busy with school and friends or something to notice. Me: Friends? School? I don't have enough friends to keep me totally occupied, and school is so easy for the most part that only about one/sixty-fourth of the part of my brain I use is actually focused on it. Yeah. Sure. You keep on dreaming in your happy little bubble, Michael. I am going back to the real world to do the three pages of homework that my truly evil math teacher gave me, and then I'm going to curl up and read Pride and Prejudice again. See you this afternoon, and I'll show you some more ideas at lunch for the computer program. M: Pride and Prejudice? Me: Shut your trap, I love that book. See you later I really wish that Michael would stop trying to convince me that someone possibly could maybe might have NOT liked me sometime between third grade and now. It's easier for me if I can just accept the given fact that no decent boy is going to like me. That way I don't cry myself asleep, what with that and all my other problems. Must do my homework. Homework: English: remember to correct your story and send it off; give a copy of it to Mrs. Breck History: research events leading up to Civil War and how it affected coastal states, family tree (again! I did that in seventh grade) Math: chapter 8-3 worksheets (three of them! Evens only, directions on the page) Spanish: copy vocab from chapter 9 Science: memorize table of elements and parts of cat fetus for dissection Mon. Study hall: see if I can get transferred to G&T to work w/ Michael on the computer project Band: already done Extra: hound Michael via IM, email, phone, and glares/puppy eyes to tell more about present intrigue; keep an eye on Lilly Moskovitch, I think she has promise and knows more than she does; note: Mia seems rather shallow and superficial, but nice in a juvenile way- oh, well, she's only a freshman. Was I like that?

Judith flipped through the book, smiling a bit wistfully, then reached over to her backpack and pulled out binder after binder after binder to begin her homework. "Time-consuming busy work," she muttered.

Lilly Moskovitch pushed Pavlov off of her pillow and reached over the disgruntled mop-dog to grab a dog-eared spiral notebook and pen. She lay back on her bed and wrote in a messy hand.

You know, Judith really isn't half bad. She's been coming over almost every afternoon for a while now to work on the Computer Club's table for the 'Nondenominational dance thingie', as my precious (HA) bro calls it. Today she brought cookies that she made, because she had a 'bake attack' at the same time as her mom, and her mom kicked her cookies out of the house. Judith told a very funny story about it, describing in great detail how her mom packed up the cookies in a towel like a rucksack (VERY stereotypical) and tossed them out the door, declaring that her cake had seniority, because she herself is thirty something years older than Judith. She really is good at telling stories. Then Judith had to go up and work on something with my brother, but she came into my room long enough to say how much she like 'Lilly Tells It Like It Is', and tell me what she would like to see on it. She also told me to tell Michael every morning and evening, without fail, 'Why won't you tell poor Judith all about it, huh, darling brother Michael?' until Judith tells me not to any more. She also promised me that if 'it' turned out to be something that might concern/interest me, she would tell me everything, on three conditions: 1. I won't tell anyone. 2. I won't tell Michael that I know about it from her. 3. I won't tease Michael about it. much. She seems really nice, actually. Maybe I should have her as a special guest on my show. I'll think about it. Meanwhile, I need to do my homework. Who do the teachers think they are? Nobody's going to do homework right now, right before finals and, more importantly (to royal pains like Lana and Josh), The Dance. At least, nobody besides people like Judith, who don't have boyfriends/serious social lives to take care of. And THAT is the truth. Uh-oh, I think that's Michael. I hope he didn't find out that I was sorta messing around on his computer the other day, and I sorta rearranged the words in one of his computer programs. whoops.

Well! THAT was certainly interesting! Michael came in, all red-faced, with his hair all messed up, and started yelling at me. Here's how it went:

Brother (B): Lilly! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT INVADING MY SPACE?!?!?!?!?!!

Me (M): What would you like, dear darling brother of mine? Your slightest wish is my command, wonderful relation.

B: Shut up, Lilly, we aren't an incestuous family. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!! DON'T GO INTO MY ROOM, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE GOING TO GET INTO MY PRIVATE FILES!!!! I DON'T WANT YOU TO FIND OUT ABOUT THAT!!!

M: (thinking-private files?? Must learn more, possibly through another little trip to his room tomorrow.) Who? Me? What are you talking about, oh great slob standing before me?

B: Shut up, Lilly. MY PERSONAL FILES!!! THE ONES WHERE I WRITE MY THOUGHTS, key word being MY, M-Y, as in NOT FOR STUPID YOUNGER SISTERS TO PEEK INTO!!!!!!

M: You have secret files about your thoughts? (I was seriously shocked, here-this DEFINITELY called for a little trip tomorrow)

B: AAAAAAARGH!!!!!

And that was the end of that, as my brother went out of the room muttering about how Judith was going to kill him when he told her that she had to rewrite all of that code, etc., etc., etc. Intriguing, to say the least. I'll really do my homework now.