Pretty

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I was looking at the popular girl, who walking on the corridor. “What do you think about her?”

“She’s pretty,” he said.

“Really?”

He turned his gaze to me and said, “Ugly.”

“What?” My eyes widened in awe, pertaining to the girl.

“Indeed.”

“Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

“She’s pretty ugly.” My heart fluttered as what I heard.

“Me?” I batted my lid and lashes at him, fantasying.

“Ugly,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

I jerked, reaching my hands onto his neck, pressing altogether. “You’re ugly!” I shouted, spitting my saliva onto his face.

He chuckled. “Ugly duckling.”

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