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too.
     
    Bethany:I don’t want it to get too hot.
     
    G-Money:Me either.
     
    And since they got engaged two and a half years ago, they don’t even discuss current events anymore. All they talk about is the wedding.
     
    Bethany:I hope we have beautiful weather on our wedding day.
     
    G-Money:Me, too.
     
    Bethany:I don’t want it to get too hot.
     
    G-Money:Me either.
     
    If I get a husband—hell, if I get aboyfriend —I never want to have a conversation like this. This is why I will never date Scotty. I need my boyfriend to be the male equivalent of Hope. My best friend. If I could have the same relationship with my boyfriend that I have with Hopeand have deep, meaningful sex—well, that would be perfect. Whether it’s possible, I have no idea.
     
    "Regardless of who you invite," Bethany said, breaking the silence, "You should be more concerned about the part in your hair than you are about wearing it up."
     
    "What do you mean? My part is just fine," I said, immediately looking in the mirror for a confirmation. My hair was tucked back, curling just under my earlobes, with a silver barrette clipped to the right side of my head to keep my bangs from falling into my eyes. Same as always.
     
    "Well, sure, it looks fine in themirror ."
     
    "And that’s fine because that’s what I look like."
     
    "No it isn’t," she laughed.
     
    Then she sprung the bit of big sister torture she’s probably been saving for years.
     
    I knew that numbers and letters were backward in the mirror, but I never thought the same principle could apply tofaces . I never realized that what I see in the mirror is myreverse image. Bethany positioned me in front of a set of mirrors that bounced off each other in a way that let me see thereverse of my reverse image—which is what Ireally look like.
     
    What a shock. Bethany was right. Ido part my hair on the wrong side. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Suddenly, the unevenness of my nostrils jumped out at me: The left one kind of comes from the front, while the right one sort of comes from the side. I always thought that I didn’t photograph well, but it turns outthat’s how I appear to others.
     
    I tried holding my hand mirror up to the bathroom mirror so I can get ready for school with my real face in mind. There’s nothing I can do about my nostrils. But I’ve been trying to use styling goop, a paddle brush, and a hair-dryer to train my part to hang a left instead of a right, but it’s just not working. The part is already sixteen years in the making.
     
    the eighth
     
    We have a new girl in the honors track. Her name is Hyacinth Wallace. She told us to call her "Hy." Every teacher thought it was positively hysterical when he or she said, "Well, hi, Hy!"
     
    Everyone is all freaked out about her. First, she’s from New York City, which is about as exotic as you can get at PHS. Second, she is gorgeous in a dark-eyed, olive-skinned, nonsuburban way that intimidates males and females alike. Third, she seems older than us, an image enhanced by her raspy, two-pack-a-day alto. Fourth, and most significant, everyone thinks it’s tooX-Files that a girl with the initials "H.W." moves in just over a month after a girl with the initials "H.W." moved out. Naturally, everyone thinks that she is destined to be my new best friend.
     
    Scotty believes this is a great opportunity for me to try out my new-and-improved attitude. He resorted to pimping.
     
    "Hy seems really cool."
     
    "Yeah, I guess," I said.
     
    "She seems really nice."
     
    "Yeah, I guess."
     
    "You should go out of your way to be nice to her."
     
    "Well, I won’t go out of my way to bemean to her."
     
    "Maybe you should invite her over to your house or something."
     
    I don’t invite my so-called friends over to my house, let alone perfect strangers. I told Scotty I would get to know her before I extended any invitations.
     
    Besides, the Clueless Crew had already taken Hy under their collective wing—she