Ah the horror of cheer practice, first of all our coach Mr. Bambean the short Latino man who can't help but yell and scream in our faces when all we do is cough, and then there's Kim cheer captain and queen bee. Every day this week I have noticed more and more everyday how truly terrible she is. On Wednesday we were walking down the hall and as usual the kids parted like the Red Sea, this ( slightly heavy ) girl was walking in front oh us (she was new) Kim straight up yelled at the poor girl " hey fatso why don't you and your enormous ass move out of the way" I felt so bad for the girl, but I couldn't do anything about it. On Tuesday this girl was on the bus and she was talking and laughing with her brother and Kim stood up and says " hey slut don't be a pig leave some for the rest of us " the girl was crying and all I could do was sit there.
" I can't, I can't do it any longer" I yell as I walk in to my house slamming the door behind me " do what? " my dad asks with concern " I can't be "friends" with Kim she's a terrible person" I yell. " honestly I was waiting for you to wake up and notice" my dad said with a smirk. " what? " I say " the first time you two met in second grade she told me I was fat and going to be a drug dealer. But over her rudeness you two got along so well so I let it be" he said "I'm so sorry I promise I will get rid of her" I said feeling extremely guilty.
I ran up to my room and decided that I haven't cried in a while and it was a good time for it. But I wasn't even sad or mad at Kim, it's my mom. she died when I was seven and well let's just say
She didn't say good bye.
By now 6:37 I hadn't done any homework at all and I have a test tomorrow, *what ever* I thought about the test. I'm getting all A's in Mr.Raymond's class so I can't possibly get a bad grade unless, I dunked it and forget everything I ever learned. Sometimes I wonder how I come up...
My phone started to buzz non stop with texts and photos, emails, phone calls and face times, I open my phone texts with absolute horror. On my screen is a picture of a stack of posters with my face on them saying,
August Murray
Why do we want
A lesbian for our
President?
I fell to my knees. my ears rang like a phone. I must have been screaming because my dad ran in to my room. Everything was like I was in a slow motion movie. My vision was fading and I couldn't see anything but it didn't even matter because my heart stung like lemon juice on a cut. I didn't wish for this nor did I want it.
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Authors note
Casting
Mr. Bambean : whit Hertford
