XVIII.
After school, Collen and Lance treated me to some ice cream. The three of us, hit by the early afternoon sun, sat around a small picnic table facing the small ice cream parlor. Nothing could beat such luxurious days.
Last doctor’s visit, I had been told to take a shot in my thigh every 3 hours, which to tell the truth, has been a pain in the butt since I’ve had to do so. As the ice cream in my hand disappeared in record time, I raced to the car because I “forgot something.”
Basking in the sun, the two handsome hawks, or one hawk and a kangaroo, sat talking and checking out booty-shorts and tanks as each one walked by their table. I rolled my eyes as I opened the back seat door of Collen’s wreck car.
As I slid in, I dug up one of my few shots from my purse and a mirror. Makeup? Check. I rubbed my hazel eyes as I check my face in the mirror, making sure nothing looked weird or messed up. As a peacock must always show himself to his mates, I must do the same.
I quickly finished my shot, rubbing the sore spot on my thigh as I limped outside and back to the picnic table.
Now something I didn’t see coming? A pack of school blonds rolling up in their BMW.
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