Some people, like Cheerio, are dreading summer’s arrival. May I add, it’s what, four days away? Ok, I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up. Cheer up, chap. Mr. T was up my hiney about fuckus-ing (what me and Mum call it) in class. Because I hadn’t fixed the “delong” file. It’s the last friggin’ week of school! Yashira’s saving for the “Dianna Fund”. Anyone else need new earphones? Moi. Yes, moi. I prefer to call it the “They Fudge-cakin’ Work Fund” or the “Hear it Louder Fund”. Mine are held together by strings. You know what really bites? If you notice I don't do something (O, 'cause maybe, just maybe I forgot) and later on you spit the words "never" and "always" (exact opposites but used negatively) in my face. Ex. "You always do that to me." "You never listen!" What bull! Daddy swore he'd never take his phone again. My head was flooding with thoughts. Immediately I cried, feeling hurt and lied to. But why? I worked so hard to accept it and be glad that he was happy, over all. I always wished for him the best. Was I just another one of them? Or was I really different? I honestly feel no different right now. I feel like a past-time. I knew the effin' messages she'd send him. "I love you" being one of many. How could someone do that? I just didn't understand. I was heartbroken, furious, disgusted, worried, and nervous. I felt for him. It was all happening again. Poor thing doesn’t get a break. I wonder what he’s going through though. How he feels. She said he's…so sad. Walking around seeming defeated. He said that everything he’s ever cared about is always taken away from him. She said she felt so horrible she cried for him. But now I was on the sidelines, watching him get hurt…again. And this time I had a whole new set of emotions. For far different reasons. I don't want ____ to hurt him. I don't want that. If the ugh got what she wanted all along, she better not ruin or abuse him. I swear. If I couldn’t do it myself, I’d find someone to knock her out. She was NOT hurting my Sunshine. Kitty was in shock that what she told me had affected me so. “I don’t get it. Didn’t you know they were together?” she asked, concerned. Of course I knew. Something snapped in me and caused me to run. I had nowhere to go though. The meeting was about to start and I was half dressed. Sometime between there, she put the pieces together. "It’s your job to feel sorry for your brother so it's OK, please don't feel pity for me. It’s no big deal." "How can you say that? You’re one of my best friends," she pleaded. She held me close, repeatedly saying sorry. I prayed she knew him in ways I didn't and that she was telling the truth. I hoped she believed it. I know I put too much stress on us. Too many unnecessary issues. Negativity. I wallowed in it. You know the best friend (whether guy or girl) who watches you long for another but secretly wishes to rid you of your pain and heartache? Suddenly, I wanted to be that friend. Whatever I can be to get that much closer. I’ll hurt myself wanting you the more you want her but I’m ready for the pain because you need the support. It’s you who needs a friend and listening ear. So I’ll see you on cloud nine, hear you tell me everything you love about her and inside, wish it was me who made your heart melt. Maybe it is… I like to think so. I wouldn’t know with all the hullabaloo goin’ on. I hadn't cried over him, or at the least spent much time thinking about him, in so long that all that's been bottled up surfaced. I’m angry. Why the hell does Mommy feel she’s gotta tell my parents about this? About her sons whereabouts? To humiliate me in case I hadn't already known about him and HER? To make my parentals hate him more? The last week of school isn't the time to cry! Cry tears of joy that you're out, finally, or sadness 'cause you'll miss your friends and high school was everything to you. But not this shit! A few times tears welled in my eyes as I sat in disbelief during Book Study. "No," Kitty would lean over and say firmly, "Stop," a faint smile over her lips. "Quick," I’d say, pretending to have a pen and pad at hand, "How do you spell shoot-you-in-the-_______-face? One word, word." We laughed.