FTLOUIE: What?
WOMYNRULE: I’m serious. We start our own magazine. Not a stupid one about French kissing and Hayden Christensen’s abs, like Sixteen magazine, but a literary magazine, like Salon.com. Only not online. And for teens. This will kill two birds with one stone. One, we can get published. And two, we can sell copies and make back the five grand we need to rent Alice Tully Hall and keep Amber Cheeseman from killing us.
FTLOUIE: But, Lilly. To start our own magazine we need money. You know. To pay for printing and stuff. And we don’t have any money. That is the problem. Remember?
God. I may only be getting a C minus in Economics, but even I know that to start a business, you need some capital. I mean, I’ve seen The Apprentice, for God’s sake.
Also, I sort of like seeing Hayden Christensen’s abs in Sixteen every month. I mean, it makes my subscription worth it.
WOMYNRULE: Not if we get Ms. Martinez to be our advisor and she lets us use the school photocopier.
Ms. M! I couldn’t believe Lilly would bring up the M word with me. Ms. Martinez, my Honors English teacher, and I do NOT see eye to eye where my writing career is concerned. I mean, she’s loosened up a little since the whole incident at the beginning of the school year when she gave me a B.
But not by much.
I know, for instance, that Ms. M would NOT see “No More Corn!” for the compelling psychological character study and moving social commentary it is. She would probably say it was melodramatic and filled with clichés.
Which is why I wasn’t planning on showing it to her until Sixteen published it. Except I guess that’s never going to happen now.
FTLOUIE: Lilly, I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I highly doubt we’re going to be able to raise five grand from selling a teen literary magazine. I mean, our peers barely have time to read required stuff like O Pioneers, let alone copies of some student-written collection of short stories and poems. I think we need some more feasible way to generate cash than depending on sales of a magazine we haven’t even written yet.
WOMYNRULE: What do you suggest then? Candle selling?
AAAAAAHHHHHHH! Because you know in addition to the strawberry-shaped candle, there are ones shaped like bananas and pineapples. Also, birds. STATE birds. Like, for Indiana, there is a cardinal candle, the cardinal being the Hoosier state’s bird.
Worse—and I hesitate to write this—there is an actual replica of Noah’s Ark, with two of all the animals (even unicorns). In CANDLE form.
Even I could not make up something that revolting.
FTLOUIE: Of course not. I just think we need to put a little more thought into the matter before we rush into—
SKINNERBX: Hey, Thermopolis. How’s it going?
MICHAEL!!!! MICHAEL IS IMing ME!!!!!!!
FTLOUIE: Sorry, Lilly, gotta go.
WOMYNRULE: Why? Is my brother IMing you?
FTLOUIE: Yeah…
WOMYNRULE: Oh. I know what HE wants.
FTLOUIE: Lilly, I TOLD you, we’re WAITING to have sex—
WOMYNRULE: That’s not what I meant, you tool. I meant—Oh, never mind. Just e me after you’ve talked to him. I’m serious about this magazine thing, POG. It’s the only way you’re going to be able to see your name in print—besides on Us Weekly’s—Celebrities: They’re Just Like Us! pages.
FTLOUIE: Wait—you know why Michael’s IMing me? How do you know? What’s going on? Tell me, Lilly—
WOMYNRULE: terminated
SKINNERBX: Mia? You there?
FTLOUIE: Michael! Yes, I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m just having the worst day. My government is out of money and Sixteen rejected “No More Corn!”!!!!!!
SKINNERBX: Wait—the government of Genovia is out of money? I didn’t see anything about that on Netscape. How did THAT happen?
This is why my boyfriend is so wonderful. Even when he doesn’t understand a single thing that is going on in my life, he’s still, you know, way concerned for me.
FTLOUIE: I meant the student government. We’re in the red for five grand. And Sixteen rejected me.
SKINNERBX: Sixteen rejected “No More Corn!”? How could they? That story rocks!
You see? You see why I love him?
FTLOUIE: Thanks. But I guess it didn’t rock enough for them to publish it.
SKINNERBX: Then they’re fools. And what’s this about being five grand in the red?
Briefly, I explained to Michael about the non-returnable recycling bins and the fact that I am going to be drawn and quartered by Amber Cheeseman as soon as she hears about her commencement taking place in Hell’s Kitchen instead of Lincoln Center.
SKINNERBX: Come on. It can’t be that bad. You have plenty of time to raise the cash.
Normally my boyfriend is the most astute of men. That is why he goes to an Ivy League university where he takes a course load that would prove a mental challenge even to Stephen Hawking, that genius in the wheelchair who figured out mini black holes—as well as how to get his nurse to fall in love with him—let alone your average college student.