This morning I was breezing into my room after chatting in the hallway with Rachel, when I ran into Jude, one of my lovelies who plays in a rock band and pulls a C in English class by the rim of his skateboard.

“Oh, hey,” he says casually, “I just left you a note. Could you charge my iPod for me first hour, and then I’ll come back and get it second hour?”

“Uh, NO,” I say, incredulous.

Jude scraped his gelled bangs off his forehead and seemed genuinely surprised at my refusal. “Why not?”

“BeCAUSE,” I began, “I am not responsible for your electronics! BeCAUSE, I am not an iPod charging service!”

“C’mon, Ms. W.,” he pleaded.

“NO! If you would like to dock your iPod during sixth hour WHEN YOU ACTUALLY HAVE CLASS HERE, I may consider it,” I finish with a big eyeroll.

“Oh-kay,” Jude says, walking toward the desk to reclaim his silver nano.


And now we're at fifteen. Days, that is.