Oh man, he's leaving.

Today in french class Flute asked me if it was true that Strawberry has a blog. She sits relatively close to me, but Frenchie still heard. He was like "Does she really" and his eyes lit up. I just kinda silently nodded to Flute, and she asked me-rather jollily-to give me the blog address.
I kinda stalled, talking my time pulling out a notebook and resting it on my folder, than slouching into my chair and leaning the folder against my belly so he couldn't see very well. He kinda than lost Internet when the girl in front of me started talking. So I scribbled both Strawberry and my blog addresses down in a rush.
That really made me think how horrible it would be if anyone outside our circle of friends found out about the blogs. There are some mad secrets, and things we're ashamed of. They would be able to watch us grow into who we are, and figure out why we are who we are. The rumors would spread, and than we'd get all socially retarded if people didn't like what they heard.
Of coarse most of that was applying to SS's blog. Because truthfully none of my entry's are juicy enough to be school gossip headlines.
I got off the bus today, with Maximum ride under my arm and my headphones in my ears. Max Ride has been a friend to me for a long time now, since I was 11. And It's refreshing to read those familiar words over and over again. (I actually started to tear up in Lang A wile I was reading it) But today the sky was grey and little water droplet's were falling from the sky. My ipod was singing a song about death, and I remembered the the results of searching "mad scientists" into the google search box. I could hear the wind blow through my head phones, and I could feel the leaves beneath my feet. And suddenly terror struck me. I rushed through the door, dropped my backpack. Than I sat next to biscuit on her dog bed and fed her peanut butter crackers and read that all too familiar friend named Maximum Ride.
Later I went to Lolos to make a birthday cake for the dads birthday, which falls on Friday the 13 this year. Technically its called a better-than-sex-cake, but we just called it a birthday cake. And there was sour creme in it, which I thought sounded gross at first, than we poked the spoon into the sour cream container and i realized that it was thick, not lumpy, and it might taste good after all.