3 more MSB prompts! **All characters belong to their respective owners.
Exaggeration
"Oh the pain! The agony! The…"
"Ralphie, if you don't shut up I'm going to hit you with your English book, got it?" The peevish Keesha threatened, crossing her arms as she stared across the room at her sick friend. To the dismay of Ralphie's parents and friends he had never grown out of his over exaggeration during his bouts of the cold. Keesha, being the dutiful friend that she was, often volunteered her services to take care of the boy when his mother worked. However this didn't make Ralphie any less dramatic.
The pale brunette pouted at the mocha girl, trying to win his was in the argument. "But I'm sick! You're supposed to take care of me." Keesha rolled her eyes at his lame excuse. The eighth grader was extremely busy being involved in school and her community. She didn't have to be there on a Saturday tending to him yet she chose to. 'So he better smarten up.'
"You're got a cold Ralphie. It's hardly worth being so dramatic over. You'll be better by Tuesday. Don't you remember what Ms. Frizzle used to say whenever you got a cold? Resting helps, but with all your yelling and complaining you can't possibly get better. Now lie down and take a nap. By the time you wake up I'll have reheated your mom's chicken noodle soup. Alright?"
Ralphie sighed in defeat and nodded. "Okay. Promise you'll still be here when I wake up?" He had always had this irrational fear of being left alone; Keesha never understood it but she nodded anyway.
"Yup, you're stuck with me. Now go to bed." In seconds the sick boy was asleep. Keesha smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. For her sake she hoped Ralphie did get better by Tuesday. The sooner her friend got over his cold, the sooner they could begin training for basketball season.
Rainy Day
Rain was common the Walkerville weekly forecast. Some weeks nearly every day would be filled with grey clouds and huge raindrops. Most people, including newcomers to the town like Phoebe, had become used to this. Sadly there were some who whenever the raindrops began beating that familiar tune on tin roofs hid under the covers, refusing to leave bed. Arnold Perlstein was one of them.
"Come on Arnold, it won't be so bad I promise!" She pleaded, tugging on the seventh grader's hand with surprising force. She desperately wanted Arnold to get his lazy butt out of bed. She didn't realize Arnold could be just as stubborn when he chose to.
"No, I'm not coming! You can't make me!" He whined, sounding much like he did in grade three. The usually timid brunette frowned at the lump hidden underneath the rubber duck bed sheets.
"Arnold Matthew Perlstein you are getting out of bed this instant and coming to my house for an all-day movie marathon and that is that!" Phoebe yelled, causing Arnold to nearly leap from the bed. He had never heard the quiet girl so much as raise her voice in all his years of knowing her.
The red head sat up in bed, slightly afraid of the girl. "G-Gosh Phoebe, I didn't know you were so serious. Just give me a minute to change out of my pj's and we can go." The girl smiled and hugged her friend tightly.
From that day on, whenever Phoebe asked for something as simple as a movie day, Arnold immediately complied. His ears were still ringing from the first time he disobeyed.
Fickle
Tim always believed Wanda was a good person. He sometimes thought of her as a burning flame in the bleakest of days. No matter who tried to blow her light out she would always remain an ever present source of illumination. She was a constant reminder to Tim of the virtues the world possessed, but also of the demons. Tim was not blind. He saw her wandering eye when she was dancing the night away in a dimly lit club. He spotted her spiking her own drinks with shots of tequila in the midst of a rambunctious party.
The affect she had on people was astounding to Tim. But her glamour failed on him. Tim knew Wanda's inner child was still lurking there somewhere. He could see it when she visited him at three AM with an old novel in her hands, insisting he hear this one part. Tim knew the real Wanda. He loved the real Wanda, not the one who was as fickle as fate; the one who tempted boys with her scantly clothed body and charming smile.
No matter how careless Wanda was with Tim's heart, no matter how many times she fled his open arms for another shot of whiskey, he would still love her. She was his forever and he was her rock. Tim would never leave her while Wanda always would. They were contradictions to the normality of relationships but they were happy, and in the end that was all either cared about.