My stomach's doing the jitterbug.

Michael's going to freak! I can't tell him. I refuse!

But he does have a right to know. I mean, here he is thinking this whole mess is his fault. And it kills me that he's gone to pieces over something that's just out of his hands!

OK. I'm going to tell him…I just…well, I have to get up the nerve. It's one thing to chew out Max, but quite another to break my best friend's heart…again.

Ugh, I'm starting to actually miss the days when I'd avoid rooms I knew Max and Michael were in. They were all over each other…ALL THE TIME!

And now Max is just over Michael. Jeez, must relationships be so hard? I mean, we are, after all, only teenagers. We should be having fun! Not sobbing into pillows over stupid fickle guys who can't come clean about past relationships.

Speaking of relationships, I still haven't officially ended things with Leaves. Something tells me I should get around to that soon. Or else he'll keep calling…keep holding my hand…keep kissing my lips lightly and whispering that he loves me…

And all that HAS to stop! Because…because I so can't date a Broderick right now. The whole family is strictly prohibited. Plus, I'll bet Leaves carries the gene for cruelly ripping hearts apart. Which is why I have to break up with him first. It's like Michael is Mercutio and just cursed the whole Broderick family…which means Leaves has to poison himself and then I stab myself in the gut and we die together in the penguin house…

Wait a minute! Since when does Shakespeare run my life anyway? Yeah, I don't think so. I'm just going to somewhat kindly send Leaves packing and be done with it. Friends first, ya know?

With my resolve somewhat strong and my knees only trembling slightly, I corralled Lars into bringing me over to Michael's dorm.

Okay, how can Michael even STAND to be here? All these stupid little hussies and their jock boyfriends pounding freaking Sum 41 and Ashlee Simpson from their rooms as they guzzle down beer and shout at each other. Dear GOD!

I'm so never going to college.

Finally, though, I reached Michael's room. Being such a frequent visitor, I don't even knock any more. But I kind of wish I had just then.

Michael's roommate, Doo Pak, was sitting stiffly at his desk, glancing strangely over at Michael's bed every few seconds. I peered over in that direction too, noticing a large lump under the covers, shaking uncontrollably.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked in a hushed voice.

Doo Pak shrugged, turning swiftly back to his computer. He'd never been too receptive to Michael's homosexuality, choosing to spend most of his time at the library or museums or whatever. Hey, I don't blame him. Who seriously wants to sit around and watch two people making out like bandits? I don't know if Michael and Max have gone any further than that. Don't get me wrong, though—I can totally live without that knowledge.

It's gotten less awkward as time went by, but it's definitely still strange to see Michael and Max kiss and act all lovesick over one another. I mean, I did have a huge crush on the guy for a while (Michael, that is). Still, Michael's a fantastic friend.

Which is why I have to return the favor and figure out what the heck is wrong with him.

"Michael?" I said gently, nudging him. "Michael, are you okay?"

It took a bit of coaxing, but he finally poked his pretty little nose out from under the sheets. "I want to die," he said firmly, before burrowing back under.

"Michael," I said, grunting with the exertion of dragging him back out. "Just tell me what's up."

He replied, but it was muffled beneath the comforter.

"Come again?" I urged.

The sheets came down and Michael looked at me balefully, his lashes clumped and tear-laden. "I'm crap. I just wish…I wish I hadn't been born and then maybe everyone would be a hell of a lot better off."

About this point, Doo Pak stood and walked out, sighing heavily. It's just Michael's luck to be saddled with a homophobic roommate. That must be comfortable.

"What are you talking about?" I asked incredulously, lying down beside him. "Did something happen? Is this about Max?"

"He…behind my back…this whole time. Am I really that stupid?" Michael choked out, burying his head into my shoulder.

My arms encircled him as I sighed with relief (softly, of course). "Don't be ridiculous," I said soothingly. "I've never met anyone cooler or funnier or sweeter than you, and Max is a moron…how'd you find out?"

He sniffled, and I wondered briefly if I was going to be completely snot-covered by the time I left. "I went down to Stillton. I had to see him. And he was shacked up with…with…him. So I asked…and…and he told me. I'm sloppy seconds and nobody's ever going to want me. I just don't see the point any more."

"The point in what?" I asked softly. What do you say when someone goes off into one of these self-deprecating rants? Sometimes "No, you rule. Seriously" just doesn't do the trick.

"In trying to go against the grain. In…in trying to be happy or in love or whatever the hell I thought I was."

I was sniffling by now too. "But that's you, Michael! That's what made you happy!"

"I hate myself," said Michael bitterly. "I've never been more miserable in my life."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes. "I have a Bio test tomorrow," groaned Michael.

"Have you studied?"

"What do you think?"

"I think," I said, sitting up, "that you need a break."

"A break from what? School? Life?"

"Studying," I said simply, taking his hand and pulling him up.

"But I haven't even started," he said slowly.

"So we'll get you pumped for it. They're showing Giant at the Screening Room. I know how you love James Dean."

I looked at him hopefully, but his expression didn't change one bit. "I think I'm just gonna sleep," he said, falling back onto the comforter.

"And study?"

Michael just shrugged, closing his eyes.

"Call me later?" I said, watching him warily.

He mumbled some sort of affirmation and I left him to wallow. I met Doo Pak out in the hall and told him to keep an eye on Michael and to hide all the razors and pills.

I've got to end things with Leaves, and then I'll tend fully to poor Michael. He so doesn't deserve this. Couldn't Josh Richter be heartbroken for once?

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