Fly on the Wall: How One Girl Saw Everything Read Online Free PDF Page B

that's not the point.
    I love the idea of the big life—the life that matters, the life that makes a difference. The life where stuff happens, where people take action. The opposite of the life where the girl can't even speak to the boy she likes; the opposite of the life where the friends aren't even good friends, and lots of days are wasted away feeling bored
    and kind of okay
,
    like nothing matters much.
    I drew a picture of the big life. Spidey's is so big he bursts through the panels. And he's swooping in to take that little me—small, angry, impotent me—and yank her out of her room full of action figures and out into the large world where she should be living.
    So maybe she'll do something for once.
    I love that idea, Kensington. And if you'd only look at it, it's more interesting than a guitar or a box of chocolates.

t uesday and Wednesday are uneventful. Pop leaves for Hong Kong, and it's a relief, since he and Ma have been sniping at each other every time I leave the room. One time, the day before he leaves, he smells like cigarettes again, which makes me wonder if he is bringing his girlfriend on the business trip with him. But I don't speak about it, and Ma doesn't either.
    Then on Thursday, Titus comes up to me in the hall.
    “Hey, Gretchen,” he says.
    “Hey yourself,” I say.
    “What's up?”
    “With me? The usual. Random acts of violence, media saturation, teenage angst, utter mayhem.”
    I sound like an idiot. But what else am I gonna say? My parents are getting a divorce?
    I'm practically flunking drawing and literature?
    My best friend's barely speaking to me and changes the subject when I ask her where she was on Saturday night?
    I think about you all the time and I want your body?
    “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Ha ha.”
    “What's up with you?” I ask.
    He rubs the back of his neck. “I, well, Taffy said something, and, um, can I talk to you for a minute?”
    “Sure.”
    Oh hell. Taffy, in her skintight leotards, has been talking about me behind my back? Saying what—that I give oral to my Superman drawings?
    “I mean—”
    “Wait,” I cut in, before he goes any further. “Just let me say that Taffy is a half-wit.”
    “She—”
    “Promise me you won't believe a word she says.”
    “Come on, Gretchen.”
    “No, I mean it. If Taffy is saying stuff about me, it's completely wrong.”
    “Oh.” He looks a bit shocked. “All right then, whatever. She's actually nice if you get to know her.”
    He thinks she's nice? All she ever does is sneer at me like I'm a vermin.
    “I didn't know you guys were friends,” I say, trying to sound casual.
    “We're not, not exactly,” he mumbles. “We've just known each other since grade school, and—”
    The bell rings for the next class. “Sorry,” I say. “I'm having an off day. I'm sure Taffy's fine, she's just not my type.”
    “I've gotta get to class,” Titus says. “If I'm late for lab again, I'll have to go see Valenti.” (Valenti is the principal.)
    “Later,” I say. And he's off down the hall.
    Hell. I clearly just ruined any chance I ever had. I've shown him my bitter ugly personality, said mean stuff about his childhood friend, and—
    But why was he talking about Taffy, anyway? He said she said something. But what?
    Something about me licking that drawing?
    Something about me and Shane?
    Something about what a freak I am? Or what an ordinary nothing I am?
    Oh crap. I remember:
    She knows I like him.
    She was listening to me and Katya in the locker room the other day.
    I bet she told him, and he wanted to find out if it was true.
    And I told him that whatever Taffy says about me is completely wrong.

f riday morning, Ma yells at me for fourteen minutes straight about the piles of stuff that are still all over my room, which I had promised to take care of before the end of the week. I make a few excuses, explaining how I tried to get rid of it, but I need it all, I really do—but then I give up trying to interrupt and simply