Being herself has never been a challenge for Nyla until high school, where bitches, boobs and boys invades the minds of everyone... Well, everyone except her, of course.
Nyla never cared much about any of the three B's until she grew conscious of h...
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Ginger was up to something. I mean, she was always up to something, but today it was different. She always came to my house on Saturdays and dragged me out of bed to do some ridiculous activity. But this Saturday, she didn’t just pull me out of bed, but she chose my outfit, dressed me, and dragged me out of the house at exactly 9:30, as if she had somewhere to be at a specific time.
We’ve been sitting in a booth at Chevy’s Diner for around thirty minutes, and I wasn’t allowed to order anything. Her excuse was “The good muffins aren’t baked yet.”
Yeah right.
“Ginger, I’m starving, and you have yet to tell me why we’re here. I swear to God, if you don’t tell me the real reason I’m here right now, I’m going to get up and leave.” I pondered that statement for a while. “Right after I get something to eat.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, looking impressed. “My, my. The girl changed her hairdo, and she’s now throwing threats at me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not throwing threats at you. I just think you’re up to something, and that’s okay. But do I have to starve while doing it?”
Ginger, being Ginger, forced what she tried to make look like a sympathetic smile. “Nyla, I have the worst yeast infection right now. And I left my bathroom only because I love you. So, you can endure a bit longer if I can.”
“Okay. First of all, TMI. And second of all, why were you so hell-bent on taking me here if you have a problem?”
She sighed dramatically, as if she was about to confess that she was Supergirl or something. “Nyla, I know I haven’t said this much, but I love you more than my vagina.”
“What?” I blinked a few times. “Ginger, what the hell?”
“Why did you flinch when I said vagina?” she asked, and I didn’t even notice that I indeed flinched. “See, you did it again,” she pressed.
“Ginger—”
“Vagina.” I flinched. “Gosh, what are you? Six?”
“Please, just stop saying—”
“Vagina.”
“Uh, is this a bad time?”
Ken.
I knew that voice anywhere, and I’ve only ever hung out with him twice.
