Sophomore Year Is Greek to Me Read Free Page B

“not,” unfortunately). And now we’re going to be parted by a giant body of water?!
    Hilary was drawing a sad face on the table with Splenda. “And what about Matty?” she continued. “He needs you as much as I do!”
    Matt Klausner is the third member of our trio, who joined the ranks in seventh grade during a mind-blowingly boring school dance. He’s super smart, gay, spectacularly irritable about almost everything, and I love him to pieces. What would I do in Greece without him to make me laugh when I got sad about not having kissed anyone since someone’s visiting camp friend shoved his tongue down my throat at a party last spring? Who would let me copy their chemistry homework?!
    My latte was gone and I felt worse than ever. Hilary blew away her Splenda portrait. She looked as glum as I felt.
    â€œI don’t know, Hil. I mean, at least you guys will still have each other. What will I do without
you
?”
    â€œMaybe your dad will change his mind and decide to write about something else,” she suggested quietly.
    I didn’t bother replying. We both knew that’d never happen. When David Lowell decided to write something, he wrote it.

4
    When I got home, Dad was in his study working with the door closed—probably looking up ways to further sabotage my high school career/life. I headed to my room and found a Post-it note stuck to my computer monitor. It said:
Ornery Daughter Comes to Senses, Celebrates Impending Adventure.
    Interesting.
    This is a thing my dad and I have done since I could write: leaving headlines around the apartment instead of regular notes. Usually I think it’s pretty clever, but not this time.
    I got out my own pad of paper and scribbled down:
Despondent Daughter Ignores Father’s Annoying Note; Father Withers Away Unvisited in Bargain-Basement Nursing Home.
Not the world’s most concise headline, but it’d do. I dashed down the hall and stuck it on the door to his study.
    The next morning, there was a new Post-it plastered to my forehead when I woke up. It said:
Come on, Ace. Look on the bright side. For me? . . . For you?
    I crumpled it up, tossed it in the trash, and headed to school.
    â€œYou guys. Guess what?” Matty said, sliding in next to me at the lunch table later that day.
    I eyed him warily. Despite the fact that I’d spent an hour on the phone with him the night before lamenting the unwelcome turn of events at Chez Lowell, he seemed to think that other topics were up for discussion. And when Matt Klausner leads with an open-ended question, you never know what path you might be lured down.
    â€œIf this has anything to do with that piercing place in the Village, the answer is still no,” Hilary said.
    Matt grinned. “My cousin Paulette got her tongue pierced there, and when my uncle saw it, he helpfully removed it
for
her . . . with pliers. Then she watched the hole close in the mirror. She said it took two hours.”
    â€œThis is what you wanted to tell us?” Hilary asked, horrified.
    â€œNo, it is
not,
so if you’d just—”
    I glanced up from my grilled cheese, which I’d been bitterly picking at instead of eating. “Your cousin stared at her tongue in the mirror for two hours? What’s wrong with her?”
    â€œWell, she’s not that interesting.” Matt shrugged, stealing some tater tots from my plate. When I scowled at him, he opened his mouth to reveal the disgusting mess inside.
    â€œYou’re seriously the worst,” Hil said.
    â€œOh, I’m
so
sorry. Were you two sitting here moaning about the fact that Zona gets to leave this cesspool and live in one of the most gorgeous places on the planet? Are we having a cry-athon in the caf?”
    â€œHey!” I snapped. “If you want to switch itineraries with me, feel free to—”
    â€œBecause if you’re done with sad-sack time, I have something of
great