Because she left him a MySpace message that was semi-flirty, and then today he was very vague about what he was doing. So I headed over to his house and waited outside until he left. And now he’s at McDonald’s, and I’m following him to see where else he’s going.” MySpace is seriously going to be responsible for everyone losing their minds.

Or maybe I, like, cuddle raped him or something.

I'm guessing I'm your fake girlfriend?" B. J. Asks, sighing. It's a miracle that he figured it out. He's not usually the best with things that aren't spelled out for him."Of course, sweetie, " I say. I try not to think about the fact that I'm talking to B. J. Like we're in love. B. J. Is six-foot-four and 220 pounds. Not someone you want to think about being intimate with.

No, you're not, Marissa says. You were just the victim of the blatant misogynistic and ridiculous hierarchy that is high school in contemporary society. You have to take the power back.