One: Too Weird For Channing Tatum
(<---- thats Luca Hollestelle who is who I imagine as Kelsey)
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"You're too weird," she teases, wrinkling her nose.
"Am not!" I pout.
"Are too!"
"You're two. Name one weird thing about me."
"You have crazy ginger hair!" She raises her hand in exclamation, nearly hitting a guy walking past us in the face.
"Not my fault. And I feel sorry for all those Irish girls that you just insulted." I'm not Irish, and I've never been to Ireland, but they're supposed to be ginger, right?
"You live in an apartment and have a freaking Great Dane as a pet!" She jabs her finger in the road-crossing button, beating me by a millisecond.
I press it after her, anyway. "Once again, not my problem. Who knew my mother wasn't going to ask what breed the puppy she got me was, before she bought it?"
"Fine. You wear way too many rings."
I glance down at my ring-encrusted fingers as we cross the busy road. "So? Boho people wear loads of rings, too."
"Yeah, but you're not boho!" She raises her hands, this time actually bumping the women walking past, who just sends us a dirty look in return. "You're a girl, and you play drums."
I roll my eyes, adjust my school bag and turn to my best friend, Mary-Jane, also known as MJ. "Honestly, those are the weirdest things you can come up with?"
She rolls her pretty brown eyes right back at me and continues, "You have a weird obsession with Marvel,"
"I do not!"
"Oh, Marvel mugs, pyjamas and posters don't count?"
"Posters?" I ask, innocently.
"Don't play games with me. I've seen the inside of your wardrobe, Kelsey."
"Sweet Damsel," I should have thought of that when I had put the posters inside my wardrobe doors, trying to not make my room look too geeky. It's not like I'm a total geek or anything; I've never read the comics.. I just have a certain appreciation for Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston and Chris Evans.
"And that's another thing," she continues, "You are always making up new words to use as exclamation or swear words."
"And so?"
"It's weird!" We turn up my street, Lark Avenue. "Also, you talk to animals."
"I don't!" I pause, "Well, just to Domino," But people are supposed to talk to their pets, right?
"And to your neighbors cat!"
I frown. "No, I don't."
"Yes, you do. Every time you walk past it, just after it hisses."
"No, I don't talk to it. I tell it to shut up. That's not talking, it's telling it not to talk."
"Potato, Potahto. And," She raises a finger for her next point, and it comes to my attention that she talks with her hands a lot. "Then there's the matter of your father, who you've never spoken to, but who pays your bills and sends you pizza one day a year."
I shrug, "I still don't see how any of this hinders my chances with Channing Tatum."
She does this sort of laugh-sigh and walks up the stairs into my apartment building. "All I'm saying is, those chances are non-existent. You should stick with Ben,"
