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hearing the other part, it
would piss me off. “Not really.”
Okay then. Skip it. I’d kiss you—
he gives me a grossed out look—
but I wouldn’t want to hurt you.
I don’t know if it’s because
he doesn’t seem to care,
or because someone else
cared so much, but suddenly
I’m pissed all over again. I jump
to my feet. “Don’t bother!”
I head for the nearest building,
ignoring his confusion-soaked question.
Damn, Summer. What did I say?
FOR THE MOST PART
I keep my temper in
check. Rarely does
anger get the best of me.
The past twenty-four
hours have used up my
pissed-off allowance
for the rest of the year!
I sit in Spanish. Thinking
about the puta who
messed up my cara, and
the cabrón who doesn’t
really care about my face. Not
that I learned the Spanish
words for whore or bastard
from Señor Gonzales.
