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hearing the other part, it

would piss me off. “Not really.”

Okay then. Skip it. I’d kiss you—

he gives me a grossed out look—

but I wouldn’t want to hurt you.

I don’t know if it’s because

he doesn’t seem to care,

or because someone else

cared so much, but suddenly

I’m pissed all over again. I jump

to my feet. “Don’t bother!”

I head for the nearest building,

ignoring his confusion-soaked question.

Damn, Summer. What did I say?

FOR THE MOST PART

I keep my temper in

check. Rarely does

anger get the best of me.

The past twenty-four

hours have used up my

pissed-off allowance

for the rest of the year!

I sit in Spanish. Thinking

about the puta who

messed up my cara, and

the cabrón who doesn’t

really care about my face. Not

that I learned the Spanish

words for whore or bastard

from Señor Gonzales.