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  • Michelle Halliwell

Chapter 7

“He’s the smartest, nicest, handsomest boy ever. I lost him! What am I going to do?” I cry into the phone.


“Booker is like such a dirt bag. Don’t even worry about him. He’s such a loser, like so not worth it,” Audrey says.


“I thought we were going to get married. I had the whole entire wedding planned out in my head. I’ve known Sandy for so long. How can she do this to me?”


With my iPhone pressed tightly to my ear, I pace back and forth from my dresser to my desk and back again.


“Sandy can’t be trusted. Like everyone knows that. You should be totally glad. You like know that he’s total scum now, and not like, after you get married,” Audrey says.


“He broke my heart,” I say.


“Yeah but like, you’re gonna see him in fifteen years. He’ll probably have a fat beer belly, seven kids with different chicks, living in a trailer. If he’s even alive by then. And you’ll be like, thanks for letting me know in advance, that you’re like, such a loser,” she says.


“But we dated for four years. I want revenge. I want him to suffer.”


“You could always like, dump ice water over his head, then shock him with a taser until he pisses himself. I’d pay to see that.”


I pick up a light brown teddy bear, Booker’s gift to me last Valentine’s Day. I slam him on the ground and stomp on him.


“Sounds great. Couldn’t I get arrested doing something like that?”


“Yeah, like totally, but it’d totally be worth it. Or you can like, tell everyone he has AIDs. I know what you could do. Like come to the university with us tonight. We’re gonna be drinking but like, you don’t have to. Just like, find a hot college guy. Take some pics, and like post them on Instagram,” Audrey says.


“Great idea, but my mom will never let me go,” I say.


“Figured. You can like, tell her you’re staying the night at my house,” Audrey says.


“Difficult, but not impossible,” I say.


“Like, go ask your parents, and call me back.”


My parents sit in tan armchairs, facing the television, their faces stupefied in blank concentration. The commercials howl. I step directly between them and the television to rob their attention.


“Can I spend the night at Audrey’s?” I ask.


“You’re not going anywhere. Not after the other night,” Mom says.


“But Mom?”


“I said no.”


“It’s so unfair,” I say.


“Life’s not fair,” Mom replies.


“I get good grades. I’m at the top of my class. I got a 1580 on the SAT. That’s almost a perfect score. After last night, I decided to break up with Booker. So will you please just let me go?” I ask.


“Sorry but no. You know I don’t trust that Audrey girl. Go hang out with Sandy,” Mom says.


“Mom, come on. Please? I’ll do the dishes, and clean the bathroom,” I say.


“Oh come on honey. Let her go,” Daddy says.


“Maybe, but I want to talk with Audrey’s mom,” Mom says.


“Yo,” Audrey says.


“She says yes, but she wants to talk with your mom about it first,” I say.


“Crap,” Audrey says.


“What’s wrong?”


“Like, my mom thinks I’m staying the night at Julia’s house. Hold up. I’ll just have my sister pretend to be my mom. Hold on,” Audrey says.


A moment later, Mom is pacing back and forth, grasping my phone.


“Are you a Catholic? Then are you at least a Christian?” Mom asks, leaving the room. Ten minutes later, she returns.


“Fine you can go,” she says, handing my phone back to me.


“Thanks Mom. I’ll get ready now,” I say.


“Sick. I’m like, so glad your mom bought that,” Audrey says.


While I am getting ready to go, my phone rings. It’s Booker.


“What do you want?” I say as I close my bedroom door.


“Look I screwed up, but I’ll work it out.”


“There’s nothing to work out,” I say.


“Oh come on. One mistake. I admit that.”


“You are nothing to me now,” I say.


“Can I explain?” he asks.


“Do you think there’s an explanation that’ll change how I feel?”


“Let me try,” he says.


“Listen to me. Last night I snuck over to give myself to you, but you made your choice. Go be with Sandy.”


“I don’t love Sandy. I love you.”

“Then you should’ve waited. Anyway, I have to go. I have a date with a college guy. Maybe I’ll give myself to him instead.”


“Come on. You’re, don’t do nothing stupid. Please. Still care about you,” he says.


“The more you talk the more pathetic you sound.”


I hang up the phone. He calls back immediately. I block his number. Picturing his face when he sees my picture with a cute college guy, I call Audrey back.

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©2019 by Michelle Halliwell