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.
8 faves · Apr 18, 2011 12:12am