Concert.
*Bang*
Concert
*Bang*
Ella smacked her head into the locker for the umpteenth time that morning. She wanted to kill her father. To eviscerate him with a toasting fork, to...
Alright. This was not healthy. Breathe....
"NO fair!" she cried. "Screw the world!" she shrieked, slamming her head into the locker once more.
Why wouldn't her dad let her go? Did he have a really long stick up his butt or something? Did parents go to a special class to learn just how to piss their children off? They had to. He was just too good at it for it to have come naturally.
"Ella!" she heard a voice call her name from down the hall. Damn. Damn her. Wincing, she put a hand to the red spot on her head.
"Ella!" the voice said again, only this time it was just behind her left shoulder. Camila.
"Guess what?" Camila shrieked, grabbing her arm and jumping up and down.
"What?" She mimicked her annoying tone.
"You have to guess!" she squealed.
"Oh, I'll frickin' guess, you little..." Ella mumbled, planning excruciating torture for two people at once.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Nothing," she sighed, shaking her off of her arm. She wouldn't let go. What the hell was she, a rat terrier?
"I'm going to the Good Charlotte concert!" she shrieked.
That was it. Where the hell is the door to the roof? This has got to end!
Ella slammed her head against into the locker a final time before letting Camila drag her off to French class.
*Bang*
Concert
*Bang*
Ella smacked her head into the locker for the umpteenth time that morning. She wanted to kill her father. To eviscerate him with a toasting fork, to...
Alright. This was not healthy. Breathe....
"NO fair!" she cried. "Screw the world!" she shrieked, slamming her head into the locker once more.
Why wouldn't her dad let her go? Did he have a really long stick up his butt or something? Did parents go to a special class to learn just how to piss their children off? They had to. He was just too good at it for it to have come naturally.
"Ella!" she heard a voice call her name from down the hall. Damn. Damn her. Wincing, she put a hand to the red spot on her head.
"Ella!" the voice said again, only this time it was just behind her left shoulder. Camila.
"Guess what?" Camila shrieked, grabbing her arm and jumping up and down.
"What?" She mimicked her annoying tone.
"You have to guess!" she squealed.
"Oh, I'll frickin' guess, you little..." Ella mumbled, planning excruciating torture for two people at once.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Nothing," she sighed, shaking her off of her arm. She wouldn't let go. What the hell was she, a rat terrier?
"I'm going to the Good Charlotte concert!" she shrieked.
That was it. Where the hell is the door to the roof? This has got to end!
Ella slammed her head against into the locker a final time before letting Camila drag her off to French class.