How do you get back at your childhood tormentor from middle school? To Milana Cavallero, the answer is simple: just crash every party he throws, until his senior year ends. Of course, that's easy when your single dad is a local police officer. Alway...
just a chill chapter, enjoy <3 Andre (Milana's dad if you forgotten his name)^
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MY DAD SENT ME A TEXT.
"Hi honey-bun, I'm just wondering if you would like to have dinner outside, any cuisine is fine as long as it taste good —to just celebrate your graduate, Milana."
It has been a few days after my encounter with the devil. Something tells me this is not going to be the last time I visit his house, but that was probably because it kept happening for the past two years and I had fun. Even if I nearly lost my life several times, it was fun. He has a nice neighborhood anyway.
After I got home, I was sincerely hoping that he won't follow me until my house, to you know, plan on making me dead. Thankfully not. I escaped him then, and I had escaped him yesterday. I wonder what happens when I mess with him next time. Will there be a chance of escape or will it just officially be the day of my funeral? We'll never know.
And Sam. We chatted through Skype since she went for a visit to her grandparents house and she came back this morning. She's been laughing all night about my day with Kade Perez yesterday, and how she was basically proud of me to have been the only girl to mess with him that has come this far. Seems like a challenge, perhaps. How many times can you fuck around with Kade Perez without getting murdered?
"Sup, biatch." Her voice spoke through the phone.
"Sammy!" I teased. And even though it's on the phone, I could feel her scrunching her nose up in disgust.
"Ew, no. God, no."
I laughed. "Why are you calling?"
"I don't know. Guess being at pap's is way more fun than with the fam. This little shit is bothering me, ugh." She groaned in frustration as I giggled.
"Aw, what did lil' Seth do this time?" I cooed.
She sighed, probably rubbing her temples irritably. "He couldn't open the tomato sauce lid properly and it spilled all over the fucking sofa. Guess who's going to be chewing my ass? My momma'."
I chuckled. "Good luck with that." Well thank god my dad is not as strict as Samantha Jenkins mother.
"You often cook pasta. How the hell do you open a glass jar of tomato sauce, Mils?" She wondered with boredom in her tone through the line.
"Below the lid, I just use the end of the scissor blade and slightly pry it open. You hear an air pop then walla! That's my trick. But hey, why does he want to open it on the first place? You guys making a homemade pizza?" Okay, the sound of that is delicious. I would like to try a homemade pizza, maybe by an Italian family. One day.
