Dear diary,

The pep rally was today, and it's nice to know that I'll never have to do one of the "give me an A! Give me an L! Give me a PHA! Gooooooo alphas!" sequences ever again. Now one of the cheerleader wannabes can take my place, I guess. I never judged them, of course, since I was one of them. Whichever poor girl makes the team has another thing coming.

Nick, who ran out with the football team, winked at me on his way by like he always does, and it's kind of weird to think that when the next pep rally comes around I'll be sitting in the bleachers instead of dancing my butt off in a routine that I could do with my eyes shut. We did the same cheer dance every time, so I can basically go on autopilot.

I'm not a cheerleader. A month ago, if you had told me that I'd be wanting to sign up for a hippie art group and a circus class, I'd call you crazy. If you had told me that I'd be friends with art nerds, I'd be offended. Now all of this feels so normal to me.

I guess I adapt well or something.

Kimberly