⠀ kill the 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗸𝗶𝗱.

fantasizing about going to homecoming. . . there’s this boy that she *really wants to ask her out. if he knows she exists.

she lost something on her walk— searching frantically through a patch of grass near the sidewalk.

her eyes shoot up at the familiar voice. her lip wobbles. she looks just like charlie when she gets upset. “ miss harper— i took a necklace from daddy’s jewelry box, and i think the chain broke. i can’t find it anywhere. he’s goin’ to be so upset. ”

what’s the matter with you? failed tryouts?

aren’t you a ray’a sunshine? did ya get brain damage or somethin’? why play football if ya hate it?

if daddy gets ya so much pull— then why try to look good on paper?

fair enough. . . . my brother’s on the football team at his school, and i swear that they worship the ground that he walks on. *and he’s annoying and dumb as rocks. i guess i just don’t *get it. i’m not sure if i have the want to look good on paper, even my parents wanted it.

i guess ya aren’t wrong about it. but, it doesn’t make it right. . . . you should try doin’ things that fulfill you instead’a checkin’ boxes. that’s just what i think.

sneaking a cigarette— she hasn’t perfected the art of getting the smell out afterwards

i’m not playin’ therapist! i’m just sayin’ why waste ya time? photography, huh? ya any good or do ya just put a filter and think of yaself as some creative genius?

she doesn’t have her license yet— it doesn’t stop her from sneaking behind the wheel anyway.

just got 80 somethin’ more years to go, little me