I spend the rest of lunch in a stall. I miss home so much that it physically hurts. My head throbs, my stomach is nauseous, and it’s all so unfair. I never asked to be sent here. I had my own friends and my own inside jokes and my own stolen kisses. I wish my parents had offered me the choice: “Would you like to spend your senior year in Atlanta or Paris?”
Who knows? Maybe I would have picked Paris.
What my parents never considered is that I just wanted a choice.
chapter five
To: Anna Oliphant <bananaelephant@femmefilmfreak.net>
From: Bridgette Saunderwick <bridgesandwich@freebiemail.com>
Subject: Don’t look now but . . .
... the bottom right corner of your bed is untucked. HA! Made you look. Now stop smoothing out invisible wrinkles. Seriously. How’s Le Academe du Fraunch? Any hotties I should know about? Speaking of, guess who’s in my calc class?? Drew! He dyed his hair black and got a lip ring. And he’s totally callipygian (look it up, lazy ass). I sat with the usual at lunch, but it wasn’t the same without you. Not to mention freaking Cherrie showed up. She kept flipping her hair around, and I swear I heard you humming that TRESemmé commercial. I’ll gouge out my eyes with Sean’s Darth Maul action figure if she sits with us every day. By the way, your mom hired me to babysit him after school, so I’d better go. Don’t want him to die on my watch.
You suck. Come home.
Bridge
P.S. Tomorrow they’re announcing section leaders in band. Wish me luck. If they give my spot to Kevin Quiggley, I’ll gouge out HIS eyes with Darth Maul.
Callipygian. Having shapely buttocks. Nice one, Bridge.
My best friend is a word fiend.