"You know, you're weird."
"Yeah, but I don't want to be the kind of weird that scares off puppies and kids." I tossed the backpack onto my shoulder as we both left the school building.
She clenched her sides and laughed—a laugh so different from anyone else. It flew into the air and it seemed like it would give anyone a semi-heart attack as it came crashing down. But once it was about to hit face down onto the concrete floor, it flew right back up. Her laugh almost gave me a heart attack.
"Is that a good thing?"
"What?"
"You just said that my laugh almost gave you a heart attack."
"I said that out loud?"
"Yes, you did." She beamed up at me and handed me a bottle of water. "I promise I won't laugh anymore."
"Right, like you could live a second without laughing at me." I took a sip of the water but nothing came out. A hard rock hit my teeth and grazed against my bottom lip. Looking into the bottle, all that was seen was a hard chunk of ice and a stream of laughter from her mouth.
"See, this is exactly my point." I glared at her, but my acting fell through and a smile peaked out.
YOU ARE READING
therapy
Short Story"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."
