Note Twenty-One
Carrie Roberts you are a beautiful girl,
who deserves a little twirl
at Homecoming.
Go with me?
The bright pink words written sloppily on a white piece of paper only increase a dull ache in my head as I read the 'poem'.
"Um, who the hell are you?" I asked, looking up at the short, bulky guy that was still on one knee, the boutique of flowers right in my face.
"Will you go to Homecoming with me?" He persisted, shifting a little closer to me.
"Who are you?" A little more irritated, I pushed my seat back so there was more space between the two of us.
"Will you go to Homecoming with me?"
He was like one of those one trick ponies who could only say a sentence. How wonderful.
"Um, no, sorry, whoever you are."
"But Carrie!"
I stood up, raised an eyebrow, and tried to side step his hulking form. "First off, my name's Cora, not Carrie. Second, I. Don't. Know. Who. You. Are. And last, white roses represent death in China. I don't know who set you up to do this, but tell him or her to go bother someone else."
"But Carrie!"
Jacklyn snickered, and I shook my head, walking away.
Ponies were never my thing.
YOU ARE READING
The Bathroom Stall
Short StoryA short story of an abandoned bathroom stall door giving desperate, heartbroken girls relationship advice, hot guys incorrectly trying to woo hearts, a stupid dare in action, and irrationality ruling the minds of every character.
