Boys Suck

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"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 seriously something, whenever the Bid on a basket auction is close, we accumulate food leftovers and toss them away using the fundraiser event! Have I thought you nothing?" my mom acts disappointed in me

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"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 seriously something, whenever the Bid on a basket auction is close, we accumulate food leftovers and toss them away using the fundraiser event! Have I thought you nothing?" my mom acts disappointed in me.

"I would do it but Jess is gonna buy my basket...I don't want to poison him" I say, later realizing how bad that sounded.

"So Jess is gonna buy your basket...has something happened?" my mom asks raising her eyebrows.

"Rory has got a boyfriend, that's what happened, we can't honor our pact anymore. Jess offered to buy my basket and I rather have lunch with him that with a total stranger!" I explain, but I still see her unconvinced expression "It's not a date, maman".

"Seems like a date to me!" she replies.

"You never heard of male friends, apparently!" I shout walking away but she chases me down, I walk up the stairs and close my bedroom door behind me.

"I just want to know if anything is ever gonna happen between the two of you!" she tries to justify her pushiness.

"How could I know?" I reply embarrassedly.

"Well, do you like him?" she wonders.

"That's none of your business!" I answer outraged.

"For our whole life together we shared everything, talking about boys with your mother it's not weird or awkward" she tries to convince me.

"Please, Mom, leave it! We'll talk about it another time" I send her away.

"Fine!" she finally gives up, I hear her stomping annoyedly all the way downstairs as I let out a sigh of relief.

"What's up?" Susan appears under my bed, how did she get here?

"How did you get under there?" I frown as she tries to roll away.

"I heard some yelling and wanted to sneak a peek" she grins proud of herself, she knows I can't kick her out like I did with Mom.

"What do you want?" I cross my arms over my chest, expecting the exact question she asks me.

"Is it a date?". Score. Once again her predictability is really high and I know her too well.

"It's not, I swear!" I try to defend myself.

"But you're hoping he perceives it like one" she bets. How does an eleven-year-old know more about this than me?!

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 ; 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐎Where stories live. Discover now