“Beat it,” I yelled out my window. It’s right next to my bed, so all I had to do was peek through the shutters. They didn’t move. They just stood there like pathetic lawn gnomes.
“Uh, we brought you donuts,” Jake started say, but Izzy interrupted him, “Myah told us about….”
“Right. I’m dying of a brain tumor and you guys bring me donuts!” I yelled at them. I slid the window shut as loud as I could, which wasn’t very loud cause it’s made of plastic-y stuff.
They got all quiet. Good. Maybe now they’ll go away, I thought.
I heard snorting noises, like someone was trying not to laugh. Seriously? I felt myself start to get pissed. Did they not get it? I can’t believe they think any of this is funny. Then they both started kind of nervous laughing. I sat up and glared at them through the window.
“What the hell? Are you guys frickin' serious?”
“Sorry, ohmygod, so sorry Sonny,” Izzy started yelling/apologizing but it just made her and Jake laugh harder.
You know when you see people laughing, and even though you might be totally in a bad mood, it’s kind of contagious? Especially if they laugh really weird, like my friends. Jake holds his stomach and flips his head back. His whole body shakes but no noise comes out. It always gets me. Izzy bends over and grabs her stomach and says “hee hee heeeeee” and tears always come out of her eyes. So my lips started twitching. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry but they were making me laugh. Jerks.
“No, it’s just… ‘I’m dying and you bring me donuts!’” Jake yelled. He dropped his skate on the grass and held his arms out all dramatic.
Okay this was getting embarrassing. I opened the window so they’d stop screaming.
“Yeah, like, ‘I’m dying and you guys are just watching TV?!’” Izzy yelled.
“No, ‘I’m dying and you guys are just, like eating a sandwich?’”
“Or, wait, no, ‘I’m dying and you guys are just, like, um…living?’
They both got quiet, like that last line from Izzy turned off a switch. Thank God we came to the end of that comedy routine.
“What are we supposed to do? Like, run around like ants or something?” Jake asked, all quiet.
“We don’t know what we’re supposed to do,” Izzy said. They looked at each other. Pathetic lawn gnomes again.
“Yeah, neither do I,” I said. Then I popped out my screen and let them crawl in. Izzy handed me the donuts.
We all sat on my shaggy rug and I put the box in the middle of us. Jake reached out and rubbed my stubbly head.
“Hi baby,” he said in a weird cartoon voice. I looked at him like, wha? “You look like a pasty, bald baby,” he explained.
Jake has a bad habit of saying whatever is on his mind, pretty much without thinking. He’s lucky he runs fast or he would have gotten his ass beat more than a few times at school. Like that time he told Shane Lee that he smelled like piss. Shane is on the track team, but lucky for Jake he runs distance, so Jake lost him in the first hundred yards. It was true, though. Shane Lee does smell like piss. Maybe it’s his laundry detergent. Or his aim.
YOU ARE READING
Phobic
Teen FictionWhat would you do if you found out you only had two years to live? What if you were only thirteen? Sonny Cardiff has it all: good looks, an amateur snowboarding and surfing career. He's smart, good-looking and has a wicked sense of humor. But, he's...
