Timeless [on hold]

{5} That Bad Feeling.

                                                  {5} That Bad Feeling.

                                                            ——

          “I still can’t believe he humiliated you!”

          I sighed, shaking my head as I tightened my grip on my knees that I’ve been hugging ever since I got home; settling myself by the dining table. For the past twenty minutes, my mom has been ranting about how that ass—the one who ruined everything—humiliated me in public. I mean, it wasn’t really public because it happened on the fifth row of the village, people who lives there rarely steps out of their house. 

          “Mom, stop it. He didn’t humiliate Spencer. Stop making a big deal out of everything,” Hanna complained, looking up from the new novel she was reading as she folded the corner of the book; because it usually worked as a bookmark for her. I reached home after Hanna did, apparently her cheer practice ended a little earlier today. 

          “How could I not, Hanna?” Mom fired back. “I’m not happy about the way he talks to my daughter, and that is not okay with me!” 

          Well at first the way that guy talked to me really did get into me, because no one has ever talked to me like that before, and he’s actions just made him seemed like a guy with low standards; lame. So I wouldn’t waste much time staying mad at him because it was only wasting my time. 

          “Spencer wasn’t even angry at him!”

          “I’m the mother, Hanna. And the last thing a mother ever wanted to know was having a random guy down the street treating my daughter like she wasn’t worth his time!” Mom exploded, stopping on her track from pacing back and forth. It was making my mind spin. 

          “Mom, it’s okay. Stop getting all worked up over that guy. I mean, we’ll probably never see him again, so it’s not really worth our time,” I said, hoping my mom would just get over it. 

          “Oh Spencer, that’s your problem,” Mom looked at me disapprovingly. 

          My eyes widened immediately. “What? Now I have a problem?”

          “Yes, you forgive too easily.” She said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms in front of her chest and sat herself by the table right in front of me. 

          “I wasn’t even mad at him in the first place,” I demanded, rolling my eyes. I forgive easily? That just made me felt worthless, thanks mom. 

          “That’s exactly why,” she insisted, looking around. Then her eyes widened as if she remembered something—something important “Oh, I almost forgot!” She turned to me, “Spencer, what do you think about delivering the milks this Saturday?”

          I frowned. “No. No way.” I made my way to the kitchen and filled myself a cup of water. I drank it, half of the water was gone as I walked out from the kitchen and back to my seat by the dining table.