Chapter Four

It's nice to be on the Moscovitzes' good side again (not that the Drs. were ever pissed off at me or anything.)

I mean, Lilly invited me over tonight, and she hasn't said a word about me dating Josh. Which actually kind of sucks, because I really want someone to talk with about being Josh's girlfriend.

-Tina (not realistic enough. It's nice and all to discuss what color looks best on Josh and what kind of outfits compliment his bone structure. But sometimes, I think I need more).

-Lilly (too realistic. Might possibly squash my dreams of marrying Josh in the legendary ice hotel).

-Michael (too depressed. About what, I have yet to find out. He's avoiding me, I think. In fact, he's avoiding everyone)

-My mom (Yeah, right. She's just as bad as Tina at times)

But back to the whole Michael thing, it's getting sort of ridiculous. I haven't seen him at lunch in a week. He still helps me with my algebra during G&T, but he speaks so quietly that I can hardly hear him and won't talk about anything except math (Dear Lord in heaven, I would absolutely die if he was like this all the time).

I mentioned it to Lilly and she gave me a strange look. "Depressed, you say?" She shoved a handful of Cheetos into her mouth.

"Yeah, and I can't figure out why. Do you know if something happened?"

She shrugged unconvincingly. "Nothing that he told me about."

But that doesn't really narrow down the field, as Michael doesn't tell her anything at all if he can help out.

Lilly had a strange look on her face, though, and refused to talk about it any more.

That night we watched 'Rebel without a Cause' in the den with a huge bowl of popcorn between us. Halfway through, I noticed Michael leaning against the doorway and watching the screen intently, still looking rather moody. Kind of like James Dean.

Lilly fell asleep before the movie was over, so I turned off the television and snuck down the hall to Michael's room. The light was off, but I could see him sitting at his computer, so I knocked on the side of the door.

He looked up expectantly and even smiled a little. "Hey, Thermopolis."

"Hey, Michael," I said, stepping into the room a little further. "Whatcha doin'?"

Shrugging, he gestured towards the computer screen. "I can't sleep, so I was on this 'What Would Uncle Jesse Do?' website. It's hysterical. Wanna see it?"

I nodded and he scooted over to make room for me on his chair. To my surprise (and secret delight), he put his arm around my waist to keep in place on the chair as we looked at the site together.

I guess I must've fallen asleep sometime during all this, because when I woke up in the morning, I was lying in Michael's bed, and he was nowhere in sight. I took the opportunity to glance around his room.

He had a Weezer poster on his closet door and a stack of Beatles' CDs laying on his nightstand next to his fish clock and a little book covered with Star Wars stickers.

I picked up the book and started to flip through it, recognizing Michael's handwriting. A journal. A journal!

But I respect Michael's privacy. Totally and completely. It's just as I was closing it, my eyes locked on one passage.

So I told Felix about everything and he freaked out on me. Am I suddenly this horrible person now? Some kind of social leper? I guess that's the way he sees it. All I know is I should've never told him. What if he tells someone?

The point is, now I have no one to talk to. T seemed promising, but she's too busy hanging around her dumbass jock of a boyfriend. It's guys like him who make all of this shit so hard.

"Mia?" said a deep voice harshly. I slammed the journal shut and stuck it haphazardly back on the nightstand, looking up to see a wide-eyed Michael. "Were you just--? Did you see--" He seemed unable to finish his sentence. "Oh, God," he muttered his breath. "Jesus Christ on a cross."

"Michael, what's the matter?" I asked carefully. I mean, yeah. I understood why he would be pissed that I read his journal. But it's no cause to hyperventilate.

He swallowed. "What did you read in there?"

"Something about Felix and lepers?"

Michael looked relieved for about two seconds before his face screwed up in anger. "What the hell are you doing looking through my private things?"

"I didn't mean to!" I yelled back. "And you shouldn't just leave something like that on a nightstand. I hide mine under my mattress at night." I clapped my hands over my mouth and Michael looked at me for a minute before chuckling.

"I'm not going to raid your room looking for your precious diary, if that's what you think," he snarled, but there was a little twinkle in his eye. "I have respect for other people's property."

"Then why did you destroy Lilly's Talking Family dollhouse by submerging it in the bathtub."

A smile flitted across his face. "I was only trying to clean it!" he exclaimed, picking a pillow up from the ground and tossing it at me.

I caught it neatly and bit my lip. "I really wasn't trying to pry, Michael. So don't be all pissed at me."

He shook his head gently. "I'm not pissed. In fact, Lilly headed off with Boris and a video camera to wreak havoc (though I have a feeling Boris will cause much more trouble than she originally intended). Do you want to go get lunch somewhere?"

"It's lunchtime already?"

"Yeah, sleepy-head. Don't worry, I know how comfortable my bed is."

I tossed the pillow into his stomach. "So where did you sleep? The couch?"

"Nope," he said, walking to the door. "I slept in here with you." And with that he walked out.

I stared after him, more than a little upset that I had just spent my first night with a boy and didn't realize it. A boy who isn't my boyfriend and never will be.

How quaint.