.to forgive or forget.

My mom always said, "Levi, 'the stupid never forgive or forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.'"

I always assumed I was either really stupid or really wise, depending on the situation.

Like in third grade, some kid had the same lunchbox as me. One day, he forgot his lunchbox and pretended mine was his. Of course, I never wrote my name in it, so everyone believed him. I was lunchless that day. I never forgave him, and I also never forgot (clearly, as I'm telling this story now).

But in eighth grade, Suzi Anderson broke my heart, crushed it into a million small pieces. I forgave her. I realized I really didn't like her all too much anyway (or did I just convince myself that to get over her?). But, still, I never forgot.

I guess the key there is to just not forget but always forgive.

But that's hard. Especially when it comes to huge jerk "friends" you're only friends with because your parents are friends with theirs, so you're just expected to be.

A perfect example of that kind of friend; Jack Abernathy.

Boy, do I regret meeting him.

***

"So," Jack whispers over my shoulder as I scan the shelf for a biography of JK Rowling. "you have a Tumblr, right?"

"Yeah,"

"And you have, how many followers?"

"I don't know. 27ish."

"SUCK MY-"

Before he can finish yelling his sentence, someone in the aisle over (probably a librarian. Undoubtedly a librarian) "shhhhh"s him.

"I've got 1,000. Officially." he reverts back to whispering.

"Good for you?" I really could care less how many Tumblr followers he has.

"See," he holds his phone up in front of my face where it reads:

Followers: 999

"Dude, that says 999."

"What?!" he says, removing the phone from my face and placing it in front of his, staring at it desperately. "It just said 1,000 this morning! Who unfollowed me?"

"Sucks," I say, continuing my search for the biography.

"WHAT ARE YOU EVEN LOOKING FOR? THIS IS MUCH MORE IMPORTANT THAN SOME BOOK!" This time, he receives multiple "shhhhh"s.

I drag him into the nearest storage closet and pull the door shut, leaving us in complete and utter darkness. He lets out a tiny little shriek and I flip on the light switch.

"Number one; never insult books. Number two; never insult the queen. Number three; THIS IS A LIBRARY STOP YELLING!" I still yell it soft enough to not get "shhhhhh"d by the librarians.

He throws his hands up in surrender, and I nod, exiting the closet.

I go straight for the exit, deciding I'll just buy it on kindle.

"Dude, wait up," Jack says, running after me.

He's too late. By the time he gets outside, the bus I've boarded is driving off.

I know, it's a cruel, horrible thing to leave a friend (or in this case, "friend") alone at a bus stop at the library. But I don't care anymore. I'm tired of his crap. I'm tired of this "friendship". I am altogether tired of Jack Abernathy.

And I'm fully prepared to take the consequences my parents present for leaving him behind.