I can't express how sorry I am for the delay. I really hate how I have to keep apologising in every chapter!

My friend borrowed the PD1 book, hated it, but ironically didn't give it back yet! I had exams, then I moved houses, and now uni applications are due in a week!

I'll be honest, I may not update for a few weeks, this time but in October, I'll be freeeee! (That is if I get into a uni!)

This chapter isn't exactly the best... but I hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and a million thanks to the person who sent me the e-book!

Felix's Guide to Romance

So many crazy things are happening right now. Countries firing missiles at each other, terrorist groups kidnapping innocent civilians, Judith furiously hinting at me to take her to the dance, Kenny Showalter updating me constantly on his supposed love-life, my charming (not) little sister actually getting some poor guy to go to the dance with her…

Like I said- so many crazy things.

Another crazy thing I could add to the list is 'talking to my friend Felix about my feelings'.

But I guess that's just my comeuppance for breaking the ultimate guy rule- talking about your feelings.

It would have been better if Felix reacted in his normal (which means stupid, smug, annoyingly loud,etc… the list could go on) way and make some joke of it. But noooo. He chose to be understanding and- to my horror- HELPFUL.

"Come on, Moscovitz. I'm sick of you moping about all the time. You need to ask her out."

"I'd rather not take the advice of a terminally single boy who scares off girls with dirty jokes."

"Come on. Just pretend I'm whats-her-name-Thermopolis Ask me out!"

Please tell me this is just a bad, bad dream.

"No."

"Look, I can't trust you to be yourself when you ask her out." He says. Oh, thanks a lot, best friend. Such kind, confidence-building words. "You need to practice or you might do something really… well… you."

I glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you mess up, man." Felix says as if that's supposed to be enlightening. "You'll start by going completely red, then you'll start rambling on and… well… being you."

"Oh, do go on." I say sarcastically.

"Michael. You can't do this alone. And you know it."

Maybe I was thrown by how astonishingly reasonable (meaning not crazy) Felix sounded for once. I don't know. But I find myself nodding resignedly.

Alright.

Felix's Rule Number 1 (Can't believe I'm actually following his 'advice'): Relax, dude.

Deep breath. Shoulders back.

"Well, I-eeer. I-ah." Oh, well done. Now she's going to think you're mental.

As she looks at me questioningly, probably thinking "What's wrong with him?", I manage to choke out those amazingly sophisticated words.

"Hey, how's it going?"

I can barely hear her responding because all I can hear is this stupid thumping in my heart that has somehow spread itself through all my veins.

"Er, Michael?"

"Oh- right! Erm… yeah…"

Oh, this is going so well…

Panicking, I try to remember Felix's Rule Number 2. Ah. Compliment her.

"So, I heard all about the Weinberger Incident…"

Yes. That's right. I said 'Weinberger Incident' like it was capitalised and everything. Ah, well. She's smiling slightly as she recounts the incident. That's a good sign, isn't it?

Alright. Rule Number 3: Lay the groundwork.

"So, are you grounded?"

Mia looks at me funnily. Oh no. What if she's somehow predicted what's coming and is really really disgusted?

Thankfully, she says she isn't…

Okay, Mikey. This is it. You are going to ask her out.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

But I need to say something. Or I would just be standing here. Not breathing. Or worse, having a spazzy attack. And she'll think I am a freak.

Say something. Spit it out, Moscovitz!

"Oh, well I was wondering because, if you weren't doing anything on Saturday, I thought maybe we could-"

I don't get to finish my sentence. Why?

Because all of a sudden, Ms fricking Hill comes out of the staff lounge and barks at us to fill out some stupid questionnaire.

As Hill sits herself down in the front of the class (for the first time ever), I swivel back to Mia but she's already back at her seat and filling out the questionnaire.

Since the Fascist keeps glaring over at anyone who lets out even a whisper (apparently she likes to read 'How to Enjoy Being a Modern, Single Woman' in complete and utter silence), I can't go over to Mia. Not that I have the guts to go through with the 'asking out' thing again.

I sneak a look at her, every once in a while, until the end of the period. But she never looks up.

My life is over.

Someone asked Mia to the dance.

Josh Ritcher.

I will not be writing anymore entries to this diary- I mean, manly journal- as I am now DEAD.

Don't worry, the story hasn't ended! Michael is just being overdramatic ;)