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That Witch Concerns Magic

Dedicated to
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February 24th, Cafeteria

    I wonder if carrying this diary around with me makes me a nerd. Or a geek. Or a something.

    But maybe I look like I’m an author who writes down ideas that the universe has giving her through small miracles and daily matters. Maybe it makes me look like one of those down to earth authors who write into the wee hours of the morning and eat sushi.

    “Gavin, do I look like I eat sushi and recycle?”

    He looked a little stunned.

    “You hate sushi…”

    “Where did you get that idea?!”

    “You ran out of my house when we were having it for supper, claiming you had to do homework. I think it’s safe to assume you hate sushi.”

    Megan snorted.

    I looked at her.

    She looked back.

    “What was that?” I asked.

    “What? What!”

    “I’m going to the library,” muttered Gavin, shuffling away.

     We watched him sulk in the opposite direction of the library.

    “Now look what you did!” I accused Megan.

    “It’s not my fault. If anything, its Gavin’s for making friends with us. What do you expect?”

    “Well, I’m sure… he, uh, is just having a bad day or something. Gavin is so nice? He always, like, forgives everybody. Because he’s a forgiving person… or something?” Sammy said airily, awaking from her thirty years of silence. Or something.

    We all look at Sammy. It’s said that when those who are silent speak, the statement is deeply moving and intelligent. This isn’t the case for Sammy.

    Sammy’s real name is Samantha, but who wants to say all eight letters? She has blond, curly hair, which is pretty, but it makes her bangs look funny. She’s got big green eyes lined with Sephora water proof liquid eyeliner and eyelashes drenched in three coats of LashBlast Length in Very Black (yeah yeah, so what? She’s done my makeup before. Of course I know what she used… Because I have that kind of memory… I mean, I didn’t steal it or anything… Pfffft.) She’s actually stunning (The size C cups help… God), but all possible love interests have been scared away by all her blubbering.

    “Oh sis,” Jane reached out and ruffled Sammy’s hair, “This is why I love you.”

    “Um okay?” Sammy smoothed down her now frizzing mess.

    Jane isn’t really Sammy’s sister, but their related on Facebook. It counts.

    Sammy was ready to converse now. Oh what fun.

    “Um, Nick, have you seen my, like, eyeliner? I think I’ve lost it or something. The last time I had it was when I was, uh, doing your makeup? And now all I’ve got is, like, this.” She stared gloomily at her Avon liner she produced from her bra.

    “What? Why would I know where your Sephora water proof liquid eyeliner is? I have no idea. What are you, accusing me? Absurd!” I stared ahead, my left eye twitching.

    Everybody stared at me, except Sammy, who was blubbering about eyeliner techniques into her chocolate pudding.

    “What? Is there something on my face?” I took my napkin and slammed it on my face. “There, is it gone?”

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