"If you ever try that shit again, I'll murder you and hide your body parts in a Ziploc bag."
Sapphire Sanders is almost 18 years old, and she's about to graduate high school. She only lives with her siblings, since her parents are basically non exis...
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I was fucking sick.
And it's not like it's the insomnia or anything this time, I was actually incredibly sick.
I had woken up this morning, feeling even more like a bag of crap than I usually did, and it turned out I had a fever.
So I took a sick day, stayed home alone.
Maybe it's those fries.
Maybe Trevor had been poisoning me day by day with those unnaturally delicious fries, so that I would stop bothering him.
It's despicable, but it's ridiculously smart.
I moped around the house for a few hours, switching from my room to the living room, then going to Em's room to see if she still wrote in her old diary, then I went to Ricky's room, but he wasn't around as usual, so I just ended up in Carlos' room at the end of the day.
His room was decorated in how I thought a fourteen years old's room should be decorated, but what do I know?
Flashing lights, that's what.
I sat down on his red race car bed, which was pretty comfortable for the fact that it was, well, a racecar.
I turned on his TV and switched between the formula one channel, the basketball channel, and the soccer channel for a couple of minutes.
Then I switched back to my phone, going through my messages.
Then he texted me.
And it's not what you're thinking, it's neither Trevor or that guy, but it was Cam.
My other, other best friend.
I know a lot of guys, by the way. Just in case you didn't notice.
Like I mentioned before, he's been away from town for a while. A long while. And now he was back from Cuba or whatever.
Yay.
Cam looked almost identically like me, except for the fact that he had brown eyes and brown hair.
And also except for the fact that he was gay.
I remember when he came out of the closet to me and Milo about two years ago, and I almost punched him because he had been keeping that from me.
I didn't though. Punching isn't very ladylike.
He would be back at school by next week, and I knew he would have a field day when he found out about Milo and Charlotte.
I skipped Neon today, well because I was fucking sick, but I still texted Trevor.
Don't give me that look. Fries can be texted as equally as they can be digested.
That rhymed but it made absolutely no sense.
That's basically my life in a nutshell.
Except for the fact that people's lives don't rhyme.
