*Chapter 7*

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(Monday After School)

"She did!?!?" Chris gasped laughingly.

"Yes!" I laughed.

"Did you say anything?"

"No, I felt her pain. $40.. Like the fuck."

We sat in silence for a few seconds.

"The daily Calculus problem is, H represents the balance of lower case h increased or decreased by the amount of blood donated times 15% of money paid. The answer is 36. What number is missing." Chris said.

I blinked at her many times before turning my head sideways.

"MATH. Mental Abuse To Humans." I said.

"More like My Asshole Teacher Handed me this paper." Chris smiled.

"You know it is early in the day."

"Yeah."

"We could go to the Mall or something."

"Hey I thought I was the blonde here."

"You are stupid."

"The stupidness of your friends represents the stupidness of yourself."

"Well we're a couple of Brittany's then."

She finished her last problem.

"Speaking of Brittany, Amariae, the newest Rich Bitch is all over twitter."

"Why?"

"Apparently she WAS in a relationship with Princeton until she got back here and broke up with him."

The wind blew a strong gust through the grass.

"Oh my gosh. Even the wind said what the fuck."

"Me too, how do you date a celebrity? She is so spoiled." Chris said standing up.

I stood up with her.

"The mall does sound good right about now." She said.

We both walked down my side of the hill to her blue little Jeep. I rarely looked at her license plate. But I decided to confirm it was my previous memory of LGM 1779.

"No it does not." I said.

"What?" Chris asked.

"The license plate."

She smiled. "Yes, it does."

"TFIOS."

"Yes bitch."

I slightly frowned. I thought it was cool yet obsessive. Your license plate. That's going overboard. She had a notebook, bed sheet, 3 t-shirts, and 4  posters. Then a license plate.

"Mom I'm leaving." I called.

"Okay honey." She replied. She was outside pulling weeds out the flower bed of yellow tulips in front of the porch.

Dad was working on the car. Sunday, we were in the middle of driving to the store to pick up something, when the car decided to chug out. Dad of course, didn't call a repairman, oh no, he decided he was Handy Manny still from the broken sink.

"Dad you should really call a mechanic." I said.

"I've got it." He said dusting off his gloves with each other.

I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris. She looked up at the sky and shook her head.

"My dad is the same way." Chris said, "He can barely screw in a lightbulb but wants to fix the Titanic."

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