I hope you know this chapter contained a HUGE metaphor.
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We walk back to class as I speak with her.
"Your grades are phenomenal. Why weren't you put in advanced classes? You pass every class of mine like it's nothing." I could tell she was thinking of a response that wouldn't make her snap.
"I have to study a lot to be where I am. It seems easy because I've acted my whole life."
"I'm sorry, what? You're always so well rested and you're at the club every night."
"I sleep on the bus, when I get home for roughly an hour, and at lunch and study hall. All my other time I'm studying."
"Don't you go to the club at like 8? Thats 4 hours of studying, daily."
"I go at 9."
"Thats even worse Kenedy. 5 hours?"
She goes silent.
I look in her eyes and see just how drained they are.
Then she pulled out a shotgun and shot me twice in the heart and three times in the head. Blood oozed out my ears, nose, and mouth. My eyeballs were pushed out their sockets, blood pouring out my eyeholes.
The hallway floods with the pity and pain of two girls who want to stop everything. Black mascara and eyeliner stain the floors.
"Get it together, Allyson. We're stronger than this."
