Cinderella Was A Lie 23
In English Erin and I quietly talked (or tried to, at least)
while Mrs. Briggs droned on
and on.
“Hey, what are you doing this weekend?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, but I don’t know if I can hang out. I’ll IM you,” I told her.
Who knows how Diana would react when I got home?
“Ok, sounds good.”
“Have you ever noticed how Mrs. Briggs thighs rub together when she walks and it makes her pants all bunched up?” Erin whispered, and I snickered.
“No, I can honestly say I haven’t! The only way you could have noticed that is if you were looking at
her butt,” I said, giving her an impish smile.
Erin gasped. “Was not!” she said indignantly.
“Oh, I think you were.”
“Oh my God, shut up!”
She whacked me with her notebook and we tried to smolder our laughter by burying our heads in our arms when a few other kids looked at us.
“Ms. Garcia, Ms. McCormick, is there a problem?”
“No,” we said, trying to not laugh.
* * *
I met Christian by my locker after school. I put all my books in my backpack and then we left.
“Hey, do you want to go somewhere?” he asked as we were driving.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Pizza,” he said, smiling.
“Sounds good to me. Where should we go?”
“How about Don’s?”
“Superb.”
Don’s was a pizzeria a lot of kids went to after school. It was usually crowded,
and Cecelia and Clara went there a lot.
Sure, let’s go,” I said.
Pizza sounded good.
When we got to Don’s there was already a bunch of kids there the lady that owned the spot, Barbara, was pretty versatile, so kids could get away with almost anything.
There was a bunch of kids leaning against the building passing a joint,
and a few others at a table eating a pizza.
We went inside and up to the counter.
“Hey can we have a medium pizza?” he asked the lady,
and then to me, “what kind do you want?”
“Cheese.”
“Ok,” said the lady.
“Half cheese half everything?”
“Coming right up!”
The lady scribbled something down and clipped it to a line that went down to the baking area.
We took the number and walked over to our table.
“Everything? Really?” I asked Christian jokingly, scrunching up my nose in disgust.
“Yes, really, and you’re going to eat some,” he said slipping into the booth next to me.
“No! Ew!”
“Yes,” he said, giving me a sly look.
“No, that’s disgusting and I won’t.”
“What if I…tickle you?!” He grabbed me by my waist and tickled me.
“Oh my God…no...stop,” I said in between laughing.
He stopped and then just put his arm around me. We sat there listening to the music pumping through the building until our number was called and Christian went to get the pizza.
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