as an alternate theory to creationism.

Just who were the monkeys in the "Monkey **

Trial"? Anyway, the entire time I talk, Mr. Lawler's eyes stay fixed on mine.

129.

I'm very impressed. You took a relatively straightforward **

topic and gave it a unique spin. I appreciate the extra **

effort that went into this essay.

And then, in a completely **

unexpected move, his hand settles gently on top of mine.

I should pretend propriety, pull my hand away. But I like how **

it feels beneath the warmth of his, I give my most vampish **

smile. "Extra effort is my middle name. Thanks, Mr. Lawler."

130.

That Was Fun Maybe even more fun than what I've got on my agenda now. We shall see.

I wander into drama, wearing innocent like baby powder perfume.

Onstage, waiting for direction, Madison stands with a couple of girls and several guys.

Perfect.

God, she's such a cow, hardly even worth my jealous response. I almost change my mind, but then she catches sight of me and her expression puts me on my feet. Totally guilt free, I saunter up the stage steps. Kaeleigh hasn't yet appeared, and Ms. Cavendish won't know the difference unless I try to sing. I pass Madison's knot, sniff the air beside her dramatically, loudly project, "Ugh! What's that smell? Madison, are you on the rag?"

131.

Kaeleigh Everyone's Laughing At Madison, whose face has turned the approximate color of pickled beets, as she struggles for a comeback. I almost feel sorry for her, not that she's exactly innocent of saying mean things to people.

Or about people, behind their backs, or even worse, where they can overhear.

Most everyone I know thinks she's a perfect bitch. Even her friends don't like her much, that's my guess. Maybe I'm jealous somehow. Nah. She's the one with the problem, not me.

Anyway, the more I remember how nasty she can be, the less guilt I feel about thinking what just happened is funny. Still, Ian appeared just about the time she sputtered off. He looked at me like I was at fault. Whatever.

Dramatically, I tilt my face toward the ceiling, walk by him without a word.

132.

Ian Retaliates In his own subtle way, goes and sits by Shelby, rotates completely away from me.

I've studied this scene, know my lines. So why can't I remember a single one?

Uh, Kaeleigh? You seem a bit distracted today, says Ms. Cavendish.

Everything okay?

Wonder if Ian...oh, did she just ask me a question?

"I'm sorry, what?"

Definitely distracted. Get your script. You and Ian run lines.

We'll block this scene later.

I slip quietly into the vacant seat on the other side of Ian.

"She wants us to run lines."

He nods and Shelby retreats.

Ian and I crack our scripts without exchanging glances.

133.

Eventually We reach a romantic scene.

Onstage, Ms. Cavendish has the chorus singing a big ol' production number.

It's an unusual backdrop **

for Ian's and my scripted passion.

But even with numerous vocal errors, corrections, and amended directions, so many distractions, **

our declarations of love intertwine.

And even as Madison stomps back into the theater, to be corralled by Ms. C and told to join the others onstage, **

Ian finally looks up, into my eyes.

Just then the bell rings, and as everyone deserts the stage, locates possessions, escapes the building, he says, **

Sometimes I just don't know who you are.

134.

Not Exactly The words I'd hoped to hear.

Then again, what exactly were the words I'd hoped for?

Anyway, to be honest, sometimes I'm not so sure just who I am either.

So I admit, "That makes two of us, I guess." At least when I smile, he does too.

He offers me a ride home, but I opt for the bus. "Maybe tomorrow? I need to think."

Ian walks me to the yellow dinosaur, bends down, kisses a sweet good-bye.

As the bus belches and squeals, pain bubbles up inside, an evil spirit, demanding escape.

And by the time I reach home, I know I've got to uncork the bottle, free my evil genie.

135.

It's Been a While Since I've really binged.

Mostly, I guess, because things have seemed fairly flatlined recently. No major upsets.

No major downslides.

But that episode with William has bothered me since it happened. I let it fester, though on the surface the blister has popped, scabbed over. William didn't cause the infection, he was just its manifestation. God, I'm so in need of spiritual antibiotics.

Then the Madison thing.

She is a major, total shit stirrer, vicious clear through, and obviously out to shred any living thing that stands in the way of what she wants.

On one level, what happened in drama was the funniest thing ever. I laughed out loud, along with most everyone else. So why did I feel bad later 136.

But When It Comes To my personal sundae of interior upheaval, Daddy is the ice cream.

Raeanne is the hot fudge.

Mom is the whipped cream.

And Ian is now, and maybe forever, the cherry on top.

Why can't he and I find a way to accept each other, lose ourselves in all- encompassing love, the kind that can save you?

The kind that can glue all the fragments of two broken hearts together.

Sometimes, every once in a while, it feels like we're almost there. Close.

So close. But then something happens, something out of my control, and mostly it comes from inside of me-- this terrible black energy, wrenching us apart. I think I should be able to control it. make it go away. But I can't.

137.

And So, Right now I will control one of the few things I can. Gaining curves.

Funny thing is, I still haven't graduated to double digits, **

despite semiregular binges amounting to amazing quantities **

of food. Maybe stress burns a lot of calories or something.