TITLE: Online Confessions of a Teenager

AUTHOR: Dream Catcher

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Sailor Moon. I own absolutely nothing because, as my dad likes to remind me, everything in my room is in HIS house. pouts Maybe I should go bury some stuff in the back yard so I can lay claim to it, but that seems a little extreme.

A.N.: Another chapter! I was determined, however, to get at least one more chapter out before I start school again next week. Stupid government making me learn. Chapter four probably would have been out earlier if I hadn't decided it rushed the story a bit and then COMPLETELY rewrote it. So, this is the second chapter four I wrote, and although I hated to get rid of the original one, I must say I do like this version better. Besides, anything I included in the "orginal" chapter four can be worked into a later chapter.

This chapter is dedicated to Nimbirosa, who not only reviewed my story but also restored my faith in Sailor Moon/Harry Potter crossovers.

Now, Chapter Four…


ONLINE DIARIEZ. ORG

(where freedom of thought rulez)

Diary: Online Confessions of a Teenager

User: JuneBunny

4/19/04

6:35 PM eastern

After yesterday's unusual events, I was almost glad that today was Monday because Mondays mean routines, and routines mean fewer unexpected surprises. I was so determined to have a normal day today that I only pressed the snooze button on my alarm clock twice.

I will go ahead and admit that I probably would have slept later if Venus had not turned on the hairdryer in the bathroom.

So, I crawled out of bed, rubbing the crust from the corners of my eyes, and went downstairs to eat some of my smores Pop-Tarts in front of the TV while watching Captain Planet on Cartoon Network. Then I went upstairs to see if Venus was out of the bathroom. Luckily, she was taking her turn at the vanity, and the bathroom was free for me to take my shower and dry my hair.

Venus was applying her second—third?—coat of makeup when I finished in the bathroom, my hair dried and pulled back away from my face. I then proceeded to get dressed.

OK, maybe I am exaggerating about the tree layers of makeup. I mean, Venus isn't a complete snob, and she wasn't always as self-centered as she is now. I don't know what spawned the change in her personality. Normally, I'd guess it was puberty, but that happened before she became a cheerleader. And it was sometime around the time she decided that she wanted to trade her volley ball in for pom poms that she became less of a big sister and more of an annoying walking, talking living-in-my-room Teen Vogue magazine.

She's always been really popular. Even as a freshman, when she was playing volley ball for the high school varsity team, she was hanging out with older, athletic boys. She also got to flirt with the boy's volley ball team on the bus to and from away games.

I know all this because Mom, Dad, Brat, and I went to as many of her games as we could, and we always stayed after the girls' games to watch the boys play. Venus and I would sit together in the bleachers and she would point out the different boys to me, the ones she thought were cute, the ones that were sweet, and the ones she'd thought I would like.

Venus suddenly quit volley ball after her freshman year and became a cheerleader. I asked her several times why she quit, but she'd never tell me anything. She'd always say, "I just don't want to play anymore," and then leave the room or switch the subject.

We don't discuss boys together anymore, and I miss that. Sure, I have friends like Jupiter to discuss guys with, but Venus knew me back then better than anyone. She knew what I looked for in a guy, and she knew when I was lying about liking one.

Sometimes, during the summer we'd stay up late talking nostalgically about the crushes we'd had the previous school year until one of us fell asleep.

Now, we just say a polite goodnight to each other before turning out the lights.

Anyway, after I dressed for school, I said bye to Mom and Dad and hurried out to Venus's car before she left me.

In first period, English, I took notes on Existentialism and the Absurdist Theory, which the majority of the class found to be completely absurd. (Sorry, I couldn't resist the pun.)

"It makes no sense! It's completely gay," one guy said.

I had to refrain from telling him that, unless he had had a homosexual experience, he had no basis for his comparison. He must know what exactly is gay before he can claim something else to be such. Unless of course, he was referring to the other meaning of the word gay, but existentialism doesn't really provoke happiness.

Also, using the word gay in such a way can be offensive to homosexuals. My friend Uranus, who I know through work, told me so. I said something similar as the guy in my class around Uranus, and she promptly told me that using gay to describe something you don't like or think of as stupid has a negative connotation to homosexuals.

I had been quick to apologize, and she had told me that it was all right. "You're an innocent anyway," she had said. "I know you meant nothing by it, but others might not."

I've never met Uranus's girlfriend, but I do know that the two of them have been together for several years, ever since they were freshmen.

In second period, after I took notes and did the chapter's vocabulary, I told Jupiter about what happened last night. We had to whisper, of course, because our teacher, a young guy with glasses and short hair, loves gossip and loves trying to remind his students that he is still young by talking about things they like to talk about.

Personally, I think it's a little weird for your economics teacher to try to stay "hip" while teaching one of the most boring subjects known to mankind.

Jupiter, of course, found last night very humorous and had to muffle her laughter in her faded Greenbay Packers sweatshirt. She got especially choked up when I told her about Brat's little story-time episode before dinner.

"Shut up. It's not funny," I pouted, fingering the corner of my textbook.

"Yeah," she snorted in laughter, "it is. I mean, the irony of it is so great! You violate this guy—"

"Only because you made me—"

"And he shows up on your doorstep a few hours later. No one forced you to touch his ass. I just suggested it, and the idea was too tempting for you to pass up."

I paused before saying anything because the teacher walked between our desks, stepping over our book bags and Jupiter's enormous gym bag with all her soccer gear.

When he was out of earshot, I leaned closer to Jupiter. "So, now what do I do?" I whispered. "What do I say the next time I see him?"

"Don't worry about it. From what you said, he seemed pretty cool about it all. If—and I repeat if—you ever see him again, just follow his lead. He probably won't even bring it up."

"Yeah, you're probably right," I said, not completely convinced.

"You know, this would be perfect for one of your stories."

"Excuse me?" I blinked.

"Those stories you're always writing but never finish. You know, boy meets girl, boy and girl eventually fall in love, blah blah. You should write a new story where shy girl pinches hot boy on the butt, which, in turn, leads to them falling in love." Jupiter sighed dramatically and clasped her hands.

She's always teasing me about my stories, but that never stops her from bouncing ideas off me. Usually, those ideas end up bouncing right into the trash can.

"Jupiter, you're crazy. Besides, you know my characters never fall in love."

"Oh that's right. You're characters fall into like."

I like the idea of love. I like the idea of falling in love. I just don't think it's possible for teenagers to fall in love. I take that back; I guess it could happen to a rare few. However, I like my stories to be believable, and the majority of teenagers don't fall in love.

I once told Jupiter that teenagers fall only into two things: like and lust, both of which don't sound as good as love when trying to endear a boy or girl to you.

It just wouldn't be as romantic for boys to go around declaring how they truly feel, writing "I lust you!" on the Valentine cards they send to their girlfriends.

Girl: I lust you!

Boy: I lust you, too!

Girl: (sighs)

See, not nearly as romantic.

I hope I'm not sounding hypocritical, dreaming about love but not actually expecting to find it anytime soon. I just feel so young, too young to fall head over heals for a guy. Love, to me, seems like an adult emotion, and I mostly write about teenagers.

After economics, Jupiter and I had our usual slice of Monday pizza at our usual table in the cafeteria during lunch. Our friend Mercury joined us, but instead of pizza, she ate a sub she bought that morning at Subway because she refuses to eat school food.

Jupiter and I have known Mercury (yes, another nickname) since elementary school, but we rarely get to see her during school anymore because she is in all AP classes. Jupiter and I aren't. Luckily, we did get the same lunch as her.

During mouthfuls of pepperoni and cheese, Jupiter decided to let Mercury in on my little act of daringness from Sunday. To Jupiter, however, what I did Sunday was anything but "little," and it seemed like she was destined to remind me all day. The very first sentence out of her mouth after Mercury sat down at our table was an over dramatized exclamation of, "Oh my God. You won't BELIEVE what Bunny did!"

Mercury decided to take on the role of scandalized-but-thoroughly-interested-friend.

"I can't believe you did that!" she said, giving truth to Jupiter's first sentence.

"Neither can I," I grumbled, picking off a pepperoni and popping it into my mouth.

"You shouldn't have done that," Mercury scolded.

Like I didn't already know that.

"I know, I know. Pinching a guy's ass—sorry, Mercury—butt goes against the rules of dating, blah blah. At least I apologized to him before doing it." I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

"Personally," Jupiter said, "I think it's funny."

"Yeah, I got that feeling already," I mumbled.

"The idea that he's Arcade Dude's roommate is quite astonishing, though, isn't it?"

Mercury's rhetorical question received a cheeky nod from Jupiter and a groan for me.

Then Jupiter turned her eyes on Mercury. "Now that Bunny's done something bold, it's your turn."

Mercury's look was almost comical, as in it looked straight from the comic books. Her eyes grew huge, and her mouth hung open almost to the table, horrified. The look was gone in a second, however, and she attempted to look haughty.

"I will not play a part in your game of 'converting the innocents to The Dark Side.'"

The rather bad reference to Star Wars almost had Pepsi burning up my nose as I choked on my drink. Mercury isn't into science fiction in any way or form. Jupiter and I almost had to tie her down a couple of years ago just so we could get her to watch the original Star Wars Trilogy. Making a reference to the movies seemed like something that she would consider beneath her.

Then again, maybe she was trying to speak Jupiter's language so she could get her point across.

"Just you wait, Mercury," Jupiter threatened with a smirk, "I shall find you some dashing computer nerd, with glasses that he will let only you remove so you can see his compelling blue eyes."

Mercury turned to me. "Have you been letting her read your books again."

"No," I answered slowly. I was being honest. I just happened to avoid mentioning Jupiter's frequent purchases at the book store where I work, purchases that I suggested she buy.

Lunch ended, but not before Mercury and I decided to meet after school to go for an ice cream. Jupiter, unfortunately, had soccer practice after school until six o'clock.

In pre-calculus we did problems from the book while the substitute, a bald man whose monotone voice reminiscent to Ben Stein earned him the nickname Clear Eyes by the majority of the school population, walked around the room, trying to help students who did not understand the material.

In fourth period, I had a rather wonderful daydream about Arcade Dude while trying to make a cat out of clay. I thought at the time I could multi-task, but apparently, from the look on my art teacher's face, my thoughts were distracting me from my work. By the end of class, I had a sphere of clay, with two triangles for ears, two thumb holes for eyes, and crooked lines drawn with my finger nail as whiskers. In other words, I had the skull of the skull and cross bones for a little cat pirate ship.

After school, I waited for Mercury by her car, a small Pontiac that she affectionately calls Kelvin after the SI Unit of temperature, or at least that's what she told me when I asked the origin of its name.

We went to the Baskin Robbins, where Mercury ordered a vanilla ice cream with M&Ms and sprinkles, and I ordered a Mocha Blast.

I'm not usually a coffee drinker, but there's nothing wrong with a Mocha Blast, which I slurped down with great joy as Mercury and I walked to the nearby college campus to finish our treats. We found a spot under a pecan tree that was a good enough distance from the actual buildings to avoid the college traffic. I think Mercury and I are both a little intimidated by the college students.

Although, I admit, there was a small part of me kind of wanting to sit on one of the benches closer to the goings on, hoping to catch a glimpse of Arcade Dude. Then again, there was also a chance I could run into his roommate, a thought that had the Mocha Blast churning in my stomach, like a bad case of gas.

"Just think," Mercury sighed, "two more years and we'll be in college."

I hate the idea of going off to college. Not because the courses will be harder or because I hate school. I'm just slightly intimidated by the whole I'm-going-to-be-on-my-own thing.

"I don't want to grow up," I mumbled around the straw, chewing on it slightly between slurps.

"It's inevitable, like sunsets and death."

How…depressing.

She could have at least said sunrises and birth to sound more cheerful.

Don't let the depressing analogy fool you, though. Mercury's actually excited to be going to college. She likes school. If it wasn't for school, she'd be at home doing…well, nothing. She's a bit of a recluse and during the summer when we're on vacation, if I ever want to see her, I have to call her up and invite her out somewhere. It's like she could live contently in her own little academic bubble without ever making human contact.

OK. I admit, I can't exactly say she has no life without being a tiny bit hypocritical. I mean, I don't get out much either. I don't like to "par-tay" like a large number of the students at my school, and Battle of the Bands rock concerts just don't appeal to me. I think it's all the people.

My taste in music is rather eclectic, ranging from Bowling for Soup to the stringed quartet Bond. I enjoy head banging and dancing as much as the next person; I just enjoy it in the privacy of my own bedroom—when Venus isn't around, that is.

Anyway, Mercury and I were chowing down our ice cream as fast as we could before it melted when this guy approached us.

"Hi!" he said in this really friendly manner like we'd met before somewhere, which we hadn't, or at least I hadn't.

But I glanced at Mercury, straw still in my mouth, and saw that she had the same confused look I expected I was wearing.

"Um, hi?" I said—or questioned—politely, taking the straw from my mouth to swirl it around in my dessert.

"You don't go here, do you." When he said it, it sounded like he was saying something he already knew, which had me wondering why he had said it in the first place if he already knew the truth. I guessed it was just one of those things people say when there is nothing else to say, and if that was so, I couldn't help but wonder why the guy came over to say "hi" if he had nothing else to say.

"No. No, we don't," Mercury answered graciously.

He smiled, and as he leaned forward to shake our hands the sun reflected off his glasses. "My name's Geek."

OK, his name wasn't Geek; it was something else. I'm using a codename here again. Of course, the word could have been branded across this guy's forehead it was so obvious he was one. A geek, I mean.

His mousy brown hair was shaggy and uneven, and I wondered if he cut it himself. He wasn't wearing anything as cliché as flood pants and a pocket protector, but he did have on naturally faded jeans that hugged his ankles, scruffy tennis shoes, and a T-shirt that declared: NO I WILL NOT FIX YOUR COMPUTER.

Mercury and I both introduced ourselves, slightly weary even though the guy was obviously harmless. He was just annoyingly friendly, and maybe a tiny bit desperate.

"So, which high school do you go to?"

We told him where we went to school, and he nodded and rubbed his peach fuzz covered chin as though he were thinking.

"Yeah, I've heard of it. I'm not a local myself."

"Oh, where're you from," Mercury questioned, playing along, knowing he was hoping she'd ask.

"Mississippi. How about either of you? Live anywhere else besides around here?"

"Nope," I shook my head.

"What about you?" Geek turned eager eyes onto Mercury.

Obviously, he was more smitten with her, which had me wondering what was just so damn wrong with me. I'll be the first to admit I'm not beautiful, but I have my moments where I can look at myself in the mirror and think "My eyes are pretty" or "I have nice shaped lips." Still, why is it that when I go out with friends guys always ask me about my friends rather than asking my friends about me?

I sighed and slurped my ice cream again as I realized the guy was bound to be drawn to her. One academic can probably sniff out another. Besides, I should have been sorry for Mercury. The guy seemed kind of clingy, which I knew would scare her off and make her uncomfortable.

Then the guy asked for her phone number.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I usually don't give out my number to people I've just met."

The guy was persistent. "You're e-mail, then?"

"I, well, I don't have internet access."

Lie! Mercury' a liar! Of course she has the internet! She's probably as big a computer geek as Mr. No-I-will-not-fix-your-computer.

I was so stunned at the lie coming from her lips that I could have swallowed my own tongue. She said it so casually, though, like it was the truth, like she told the same lie to ten guys every day to ward them off.

Geek seemed upset, but I don't know if it was because he didn't get Mercury's contact information or because he thought she wasn't as into computers as he was.

"Well, I have one more class left today. Got to go. Bye." he said after looking at his watch.

I turned my head to make sure he left and then turned to Mercury. "You broke his heart!"

"I did not." She scooped up some of her melting ice cream and stuck it into her mouth.

When it looked like she wasn't going to say anything more on the subject, I snorted. "No internet access, my ass."

She blushed, then admonished, "Bunny, don't cuss."

"Sorry, I've been hanging out with Jupiter too much lately." I paused as a thought struck me. "Wait 'til I tell Jupiter about this! She's gonna to flip!"

And maybe, I thought secretly, she'll forget about the butt-pinching thing.

Of course, when Jupiter called me from her cell phone on the way home from soccer practice and I told her about the geek and Mercury's little lie, she'd acted shocked for a moment before laughing.

"You might not have as hard a time as you thought bringing her to 'The Dark Side,'" I guffawed, quoting Mercury from earlier on in the day.

"Maybe, Maybe," she trailed off. Then she hmmmed into her cell phone. "Speaking of The Dark Side. Feel like going to Farley's for dinner?"

I told her Mom was fixing lasagna and hung up on her and her loud laughs.

Speaking of lasagna, I can smell it in my room. Dinner's about ready, I guess, so I'm going to finish this.

Goodnight, World.

Bunny.

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RESPONSES TO ENTRY: JuneBunny-4/19/04-6:35 PMeastern

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Response: SeXyZbAbE

Man, your normal days are pretty boring. I was kind of hoping you'd see Blue Eyes again, or at least Arcade Dude.

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Response: ViolinsAndBows

I think you're wrong about teenage love. I'm a teenager, and I'm in love. It has to be love. He's so sweet and kind and romantic. He gave me a promise ring last year when we graduated from high school, and sometime after we graduate from college, we're going to get married. So don't knock teen love because just because you haven't experienced it.

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Response: boxersORbriefs

All right! Another BFS fan. What's your favorite song by them? Mine's Ohio (Come Back to Texas).

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Response: BoiWidallDFun

What the hell is existentialism? And what does it have to do with English?

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Response: IH8Dis

Luke, I lust you.

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ONLINE DIARIEZ. ORG

(where freedom of thought rulez)

Diary: Useless Information

User: GreenThumbs

4/19/04

8:53 PM eastern

I didn't have any classes today. I thought about going to the library and working on the paper I have due next week, but I got to thinking about last night and what I had told Mina and Serena's dad about changing my major. And I couldn't stop thinking about it.

So, I grabbed my keys, got in my truck, and followed my firmly attached roots back home. I didn't call first, and I should have because the trip turned out to be a complete waste of gas. The garage was completely empty when I pressed the button of the garage door opener that I still keep in my glove compartment.

I took the keys out of the ignition and fiddled with them a bit. He wasn't home, but I still had the key to go inside. I mulled it over, decided I might as well get a bite to eat before leaving a note somewhere saying I stopped by.

The house looked exactly the same as it did before Mom died, but it didn't smell like she lived there anymore. I opened the door, subconsciously expecting to smell the mixture of Windex, Roses, and the scent of her burning candles she had throughout the house.

I doubted the windows were cleaned regularly anymore, and Dad wasn't the type to go through his house keeping candles lit, even if he was sentimental enough to keep every nick-nack and every romance book of Mom's exactly where it had been before she went to the hospital that last time.

The rose smell was there, but that was another sign of Dad's sentimentality. Mom loved roses and would keep them in vase, a family heirloom, sitting on top of the mantle in the living room. Dad, it seemed, still continued to put new roses in the vase regularly.

Dad designed and had the house built after he and Mom were married and it was completed before I was born. After Mom died, I expected we would move out, get away from the memories like every other grieving character in a book or movie. Instead, Dad turned the house into a walk-in painting where the lighting never changed and all the inanimate objects stayed in their places.

I took my shoes off at the door so I wouldn't track anything across the living room's beige carpet. In the kitchen, I found what I needed to make a sandwich and ate standing up by the island countertop in the center of the room.

I glanced around the kitchen. Nothing had changed, not even the phrase HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS that someone had stitched on a piece of white cloth and framed for my mother.

I finished my sandwich, rinsed off my plate, and put it in the dish washer. It was like I'd never been there. I thought about going up to my old room, but decided I might as well leave. I left a note on the counter for Dad using a piece of paper from the notepad that hung magnetized to the refrigerator door.

As I left, I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that I didn't get to confront my Dad with my decision to change my major. When I first saw that the garage was empty, the evil bubbly feeling in my stomach (the same one I get anytime I have to speak in front of a crowd) stopped churning.

Then again, I was also agitated. I had finally gotten the courage (Yeah, I'm a wuss) to face my dad and tell him I won't be following in his footsteps, and he's not home. As I drove back to the university, I couldn't help but to blame Dad, as if his absence had been on purpose because he knew what I was going to tell him.

Sounds stupid, right?

The rational side of me said that I was crazy. My Dad is not avoiding me. He has no clue that I don't want to be an architect because all I've ever shown him was a fake eagerness that he was either completely oblivious to or eager to ignore.

I hope he's completely oblivious because the thought of him pushing me into doing something he knows without a doubt I have no interest in is almost sickening.

And I don't know who's worse. Him, for pushing me into it; or, me, for letting him do it.

When I got back to the school, I decided the best way to forget about everything was to work on my paper. So after retrieving my lap top and a few other materials I wandered across campus to the main building where the library's located.

However, as I approached the building, I noticed something more interesting than the Gothic novel I was planning on analyzing. Three figures were beneath a pecan tree in discussion. It was the figure standing up that drew my attention to the group.

Melvin Smith is most definitely NOT the campus Casanova. He's what many would call a geek, or nerd, or dork. I've never quite figured out the differences between a geek, a nerd, and a dork, but I'm sure Melvin is a little of every one. Even the guy's name screams computers and pocket protectors.

The thing is, Melvin doesn't seem to let his nerdiness affect him. He has no problem approaching women, even after countless rejections. We have one class together, and I've watched him sit down between two girls, get snubbed by one girl, and then promptly turn to the other to try to make conversation.

I can't help but admire the guy, though. He's got more balls than I do if he can still look a girl in the eye after being rejected as many times as he's been.

So, after recognizing his messy crop of brown hair and realizing that the two seated figures in front of him were female, I decided to stop and silently root for him.

I'm a sucker for an underdog story, like the movies Water Boy and Happy Gilmore. OK, maybe Adam Sandler movies aren't the best examples, but how about Miracle? It's even based on a true story.

Then, as I'm watching Melvin try to score a date, or at least a phone number, I recognize one of the figures as Serena, Mina's sister. She had a straw in her mouth and the drink it led to in her left hand. Her face only showed a slight interest in whatever it was Melvin was telling her friend.

For some reason, I was happy she looked bored.

He left a few minutes later, and I called out his name. When his glass-covered eyes found mine, I waved him over. I read his shirt as he came closer and cracked a smile. NO I WILL NOT FIX YOUR COMPUTER it stated. I wondered what online store he had bought it from.

"Get her number?" I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the girls.

"Nah, they weren't my type."

I didn't know Melvin had a type. He never put me in the frame of mind of someone who discriminates. I thought all girls were open game for him.

"Really? You seemed to be getting along with the short haired one."

"Well," he shrugged, "I don't think we share the same interests."

"What about the blonde?"

I'll admit I was more curious than I was letting on. I couldn't help it that there might have been a tiny part of me wondering if what wasn't Melvin's type was really mine.

"She seemed kinda shy. Besides, I think she was more interested in her ice cream than me."

Shy. Well, I already knew that, but I also knew that shyness hadn't kept her from pinching my butt.

I found more humor, however, in the fact that shy girls weren't Melvin's type. I figured someone like him would prefer a girl who was sweet and innocent. Course, the image of Melvin with a slightly demanding and assertive woman wasn't all that hard to imagine either. Maybe he did need to find a woman who would allow him to be the meeker one in the relationship. Maybe he needed a Betty to his Barney, a Lara to his Steve Urkel.

I worked on my paper in the library for a couple of hours and then returned to the dorm room. Andrew wasn't there, and since he didn't have to work today, I wondered which of his girlfriends he was with.

I want to tell Mina and Serena about Andrew's wandering dick, but I doubt they would believe me. One or both of them would probably just accuse me of lying because I'm jealous of Andrew, and I'm absolutely not jealous. Not in the slightest. No, they need to discover on their own just how callous he is.

But it wouldn't hurt to point them in the right path to discovery, would it?

I need to think more about this.

Well, bye.

Today's Useless Information: 250 people have fallen off the leaning tower of Pisa.

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RESPONSES TO ENTRY: GreenTumbs-4/19/04-8:53 PMeastern

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Response: IMdaManHo

You've got some serious family issues. Sorry about that man. Hey, uh, you never gave me Barbara's number, by the way.

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Response: SpeaksMyMind

Have you and your dad ever tried counseling? A friend of mine lost her dad a few years ago, and she and her mom went to a physiologist. She's doing really well. You might want to think about it, even if your dad doesn't agree.

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Response: CheeriosSAVEhearts

Geek: Someone who's really obsessive about something and knows every little factoid about the subject. (Ex.: Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons)

Nerd: Someone who does extremely well in school and has a high IQ. (Ex.: Professor Frink from The Simpsons)

Dork: 1) Someone who is occasionally clumsy, usually of average intelligence, and slightly amusing and funny (Ex.: Milhouse from The Simpsons). 2) A whale penis.

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Response: IH8Dis

God, just take a picture of Andrew bare-assed in bed with some other chick, mail it anonymously, and get the whole fuckin' thing over with. And while you're at it, send a letter to Daddy telling him how big a wuss you are.

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A.N.: Okay, shorter than chapter three, but a lot of familiar faces were introduced from the SM world. Also, IH8Dis's diary did not appear in this chapter because, while I love this character, I don't want it to steal Serena and Darien's thunder. After all, it is THEIR story. IH8Dis's diary will appear again, but just not in every chapter. I am very glad that everyone's liking the dairy format and the blogs, both of which were influenced by Meg Cabot's adult contemporary romances, which I highly recommend along with her teen novels. Oh, I'm also extremely happy that no one seems bored with the switching of POV, but if it ever does become a problem, please tell me. Reviews are VERY welcome, as well as any constructive criticism or suggestions.

Shout Outs:

I decided to shout outs on my bio page to avoid having a huge list at the bottom of my story because many of my replies were rather lengthy. So, if you reviewed chapter three, you might want to check it out.