Robin, Boy Virgin: Original Series

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My cell phone was on my bed stand, practically screaming at me to reach out and send Cora a text message. She had barely said two words when she walked me dutifully to Jazz band and, as I was lying in bed, staring up at the Pink Floyd Prism in the dark and glancing over at my cell, I was feeling pretty unnerved about this whole thing. Here’s why I was fretting like a worrywart about the situation:

1.) Cora was acting different which implied that she was more upset about the situation than she let on.

2.) I didn’t want her to be upset. I felt so, so, so freaking bad for her. And part of why I felt bad was because she actually had a reason for me, the loser boy virgin, to feel bad for her. That was no good.

And this is probably the dumbest reason, but it was still bothering me:

3.) I was a little worried that Cora thought I had something to do with the horrible graffiti on her locker. I mean, we’ve only been friends for like a week, so that’s not much time to build up trust. But I really, really, really, wanted her to know that I would never do something like that. I wanted to text her and assure of my character, but then that would be making the situation about me and my issues. And, really, Cora doesn’t need my egocentricity right now.

Ok, so, I was also lying there awake because I was angry. Understandable right? Well here’s a list of why we can be angry, anyway:

1.) Cora is nice to pretty much everyone, excluding Jenni (but the dumb bitch deserved it)

2.) Whoever wrote that immature, scarring word had pegged Cora wrong. It would be a little different if she actually was a slut (there are such things as nice sluts out there, people. How do you think they got to have so many sexual pals? By being mean?). Anyway, Cora isn’t a slut. If she were, do you think she’d be hanging out with me? Hell no.

And of course

3.) I was angry at whoever wrote that just for writing it. I mean, what a bitchy, underhanded thing to do! And who did it? I had the suspicion that this was female on female crime, since I think the Y chromosome stops guys from doing things like tagging SLUT on someone’s locker. But I wasn’t ruling anyone out.

And here’s the thing. The first inclination I had was to believe it was Erica and them who did it. I don’t know why they would do it, but does true evil need a reason to be evil? No, it just acts irrationally, like a toddler.

Now, on second thought, it could be those fucking LGs, looking for more attention. After all, they had made a flyer and put it on my locker. They were more hands on then Erica and her bitches. So it could be them.

I entertained for a moment the remote possibility that maybe Bonnie had done it. I mean, she is all about abstinence and Cora just has a sexual aura about her. But I dismissed that theory pretty quick. Writing SLUT on someone’s locker doesn’t qualify as respectful, virtuous behaviour. And Bonnie might be pushy, but she’s nice.

During Jazz band that afternoon, neither Minnie nor I had spoken to one another. I think that we felt mutually compelled to be silent and not discuss what had happened. But I still wondered how Minnie felt about it. I know that Cora considers them friends, pretty much, so maybe Minnie was feeling some of the same angry feelings I was. She probably wasn’t worrying that Cora blamed her for what happened. Minnie has some self-assurance while I have none.

So you see why I was laying there, completely awake? It was awful. But I’m sure that Cora, lying in her bed staring up at whatever cool poster she had on her ceiling, was feeling worse.

I decided that, while I was awake, I’d make a game plan. Tomorrow, I was going to tell Cora, right off the bat, that everything was going to be ok. Mostly because I’m sure it would actually turn out ok for her and only a little tiny bit to give her a taste of her own medicine. Then, I would distract her with the new Music Composition software and when class was over, I would suggest we ditch school and go to the mall. At the mall, we’d hang out in the food court and I would tell her my theories on who might have vandalized her locker. Then we’d pick the most likely group of culprits and tailor our revenge plots to suit them.

I’m such a good, nocturnal friend.