Sandy Myers, a pshychotic and obnoxious 16-year old, goes on the longest car-ride of her life.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Repeated in so many novels here and there. She left me. She died. He died.  He left me. My grandpop moved to Texas. And my grandmom stayed in New Jersey. WTF was that?

Wow. Such a cliche.

Anywho, I am Sandy. Not like that annoying squirrel from Spongebob (aka the best cartoon of all itme). But, Sandy as in... me.

"Well, well, Sandy."

I looked up to see Mr. Griffith staring into my diary.

"Well, well, Mr. Griffith. I see that you're lookin' in my journal once again. What can I say? I'm a brilliant author. I know, you're quite jealoust that your novel didn't work out. But, hola to Mr. Griffith, mine is."

He rolled his eyes. The class laughed, as usual. I know, I'm a charm.

Mr. Griffith was an old cow. Literally. Ok, not so literally, but he did have a mysterious birthmark that looked like a cow. Or a calf... whichever you prefer. I stared at the clock, but then noticed how saggy Mr. Griffith's butt was. I bet his wife denied being married to him. I bet that old couple didn't have "any fun" anymore. Sigh. School was boring. Walking. Walking home after school was fun. Stopping at a QuikCheck and grabbing a slushie is fun. Ba-ringgggg! Finally. School had ended on this lovely, sunny Friday. I walked to QuikCheck with Fern. We were engaged in a conversation about scuba divers. If I had a perfect boyfriend, he would be a scuba diver. He would jump out of the water, his lush hair wet and yummy. Ahhh.

"Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

Oh my my. I heard him recite it. I heard him recite it. I turned to see Bidge grin at me.

"Wow," I said, "you memorized it. Thank god."

"Thank god?"

"You bet that you couldn't memorize it."

"Actually, that was you... and now you owe me ten buck, darling."

I groaned, wishing he believed me. I handed him a crisp ten dollar bill. He kissed it.

"You sure love your mula," Fern said.

"I love my mula," he repeated.


The End

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