Half an hour later he is still pouring out his sorrows and woes to me. His girlfriend is mad at him. He doesn't understand any of his classes. He has a secret crush on his ex-girlfriend's lesbian lover. His bicycle is broken. He failed his driver's test again. There's a martian in his bedroom.
I may have made the last one up. Maybe.
Finally, I cut him off. "Chris, by your account you are one sorry and screwed up little boy."
"Well, what should I do?"
"What do I look like, Ann Landers?"
"Sam, you're the one person at school I can trust who won't go spreading my life around at school." He does realize that my code of silence doesn't spread to this diary, right? Well, if he doesn't...he can hope no one cracks his code-name, then.
"I'm flattered, Chris." I reply, chewing on the phone cord. I'm terrified I'll get electrocuted, but it's a nasty habit I've developed. Ah, but if only we had a cordless! "But really, I'm a lousy person to ask for advice. My life isn't exactly perfect."
"What do you mean? You're smart, rich-"
"Strike one, strike two, don't go for a third. I'm more asinine than Bush, and just because my dad has a little money doesn't mean I have a cent. But do you really know what I think you should do?"
"Wait 'til you're 18 to take the driver's test. Memorize the manual while you're on the public bus. Give your girl a bunch of roses. Get over the lesbian - she isn't ever going to be interested in you again.
"And give the martian a muffin. Blueberry if possible, poppyseed as a last result."
"Thanks, Sam. You're so nice." he replies, slightly ruffled. My answers weren't what he wanted to hear.
"I know, aren't I?" Click. He can listen to a dial tone, I have an English assignment to complete.
And I suddenly have a wild craving for a blueberry muffin.