You know those really awful feelings that almost feel like you're walking down a school hallway and everybody is transferring food from one mouth to another while making out. Even your friends. That's the feeling of disgust, horror, and betrayal. Something I like to call DHB. I'll reference to that guy a lot. So anyways, I talked for the first time in what seemed like hours, when Carissa was getting out of the car. I croaked a frail "Bye.." And it only got worse from there. Carissa could be intimidating at times so after we left it was like people starting to realize that transferring food from mouth to mouth is beyond gross. So Missy and I were just blabbing about what any other girl does..shopping, boys, school I don't even feel like explaining. So when we got to our house an idea hit me. "Hey! I have the best idea ever! We could stay up all night and watch Grease! It would be so fun!" And of course she agreed. It was her first time watching Grease and probably my millionth time, but even so, I was excited as hell.
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We ran upstairs sparkling apple cider in one hand, IPhone 5C's in the other. But soon Missy came to a halt..oh of course. She has to visit my younger sister first can't go a minute without it. Just because she was an only child..she got a little TOO comfortable with my sister and maybe took her as her own. After about 10 minutes of tucking in and petting gently, I decided to break the fluff. "OK, c'mon let's watch Grease! You know she's 9 years old she doesn't need to be tucked in." I added. She chuckled. "Whatever."
Again, we stomped up the wooden steps leading to my room and I brought out my IPad as she examined my room curiously.
"WOAH! Is that an IPad?" she said, immediately grabbing it to herself.
"Uh..yeah..it is," I replied back, annoyed.
"Oh, you have a password?" she said shoving the screen of my IPad back into my face, motioning so I would unlock it.
I did so, but rather than handing it back to her, I opened Netflix, walked to my bed and finally exclaimed, "Ok let's watch now."
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I hate Missy Shapiro
Teen FictionI hate her. I hate her bright green eyes. I hate her million boyfriends. I hate her popularity. I hate her sleek brown hair. I hate her perfect body. I hate her happiness. I hate you, Missy Shapiro. Remember that.
