Author's Note:
**DISCLAIMER: I MEAN NO OFFENCE TO ANY GAY PEOPLE READING THIS. RICARDO'S GAYNESS IS EXTREMELY EXAGGERATED; AGAIN I MEAN NO OFFENSE.**
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“Come on in girlies! Go ahead and warm up!” A gay sounding voice called.
“Ricardo? Ricky Bear?” I exclaimed, shocked to see my old teacher.
“Kitty Coo!” He ran over to me and planted two air kisses on both sides of my face. “Long time no see!”
“Long time no see to you too!” I laughed, patting him on the cheek.
“Girl, where. Have. You. Been?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Around I guess.” I shrugged.
“How come you’re here?” I questioned.
“Um, excuse me, I work here.” He said sassily and then laughed. Well, giggled would be the correct term. “But in all seriousness, I’ve been working here since you left my out of school classes in hopes you’d maybe come back.”
I was touched by what he’d done, and appalled at my how dense I was. After three years of him working here I never noticed? I thought I knew every teacher.
“They never bothered to put me on the faculty list. Lazy pricks.” He said, reading my mind.
I laughed, and something clicked into place. “So you’re telling me when I was walking in the hallway all those times, thinking I was hallucinating, it was really you there saying ‘Come back to dance, I have cupcakes’?”
“You know it, girl.”
I laughed for the third time and sighed. I missed dance so much. After I’d quit, I watched Dance Moms and ate ice cream on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, the day’s in which I would normally have dance practice.
“Why did you quit! We missed you!” He asked concernedly. I dreaded the day I’d have to answer this question, but I knew it was inevitable.
Three years ago, nine months post friendship.
“Katrina, you’ve missed eleven practices, a recital, finished seven gallons of ice cream gained about twenty pounds, and have watched one too many seasons of Dance Moms!” Gram argued, snatching the remote out of my hand and switching off the TV.
I didn’t answer and just stared at the blank screen, taking bite after bite of ice cream.
“Wait. Are you pregnant?”
That’s when I lost it. My eyes widened in shock and terror. “No!” I squeaked, my voice raising several pitches.
“Who’s the father? Who’s the father? It’s Cameron isn’t it? I know you like him!”
“First off, no the father isn’t Cameron, Second, I am not preggo, third, how did you know I like--” I blush and pause. “Or may not like Cameron.”
I glare at Gram’s ‘I-know-you-like-him-spill-the-deets-girl’ look and turn away.
“Besides, I know he’ll never like me back.”
“He will, he must, or I’ll make him. KAMRINA IS REAL!”
I roll my eyes and smile as Gram starts doing a weird dance/jig/thing.
“See! You smiled!”
I rolled my eyes again and turned away.
“Where’s that gratitude attitude?” Gram scolded playfully.
YOU ARE READING
Katrina Unplugged
Teen Fiction[ unedited ] Katrina Shaymin has never exactly been It-Girl material, which became even more apparent after her best friend of eight years, Colette Atriana, left her for popularity when they were freshmen. Since then, Katrina has been able to get he...
