Sealed With A Diss.

Chapter 14

|Chapter 14|

"What do you even wear to one of these things?" I shout.

"I don't know! Maybe a leotard?" Spencer calls back.

I roll my eyes, "I'm not wearing a leotard. That's dumb."

"Fine, then why don't you wear something else? I mean, why are you even asking me in the first place?" Spencer enters my room and leans against the doorway.

I throw a shirt at him and he catches it, assessing the quality. "Because, I can't figure out what to wear for the life of me, and generally speaking, you're pretty good at dressing yourself, so I petitioned your help."

"More like forcibly dragged me by the ear into your room and then threw mountains of clothing at my face," Spencer mutters dryly.

"Shut up."

The carnival is in town. You know, big carnies with long beards and fire breathing. I've never really been one to go to carnivals, and Harper attests it to my extreme fear of crowds. Well, I say that it's due to the Three S's. Stupid rides, with stupid food, and you guessed it, stupid people.

Now, this wouldn't be that bad if I could just sit at home during the weekend the carnival is in town, but I have to go.

Yes, have to go.

Now, you may be wondering why I'm stuck in this awkward predicament. Let me take you back to some easier times, times more commonly known as yesterday morning.

"I hate everyone, everything, and just the world. I hate it all."

"You're just bitter because Manchester City lost to Manchester United!" Harper exclaims, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

"Hmph."

"Oh, stop whining," Harper scolds, scooting back in her chair to better read her book.

Class is about to start, and I'm lounging next to Harper waiting for Ms. Wong to arrive. I feel Harper poke my side, and I fidget uncomfortably, squirming away to the right.

"What?" I snap, curling in on myself for protection.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, I was just wondering if you were going to the Thanksgiving Day carnival," Harper asks.

"It's 'panties in a twist' and what carnival?"

"It's the carnival." She stressed as if I was going to get it.

"We have a carnival?" I ask stupidly, and Harper rolls her eyes.

Harper sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, "For the past 47 years, yes."

"How was I supposed to know?" I exclaim and defend, pouting.

"Are you going, or not?"

"Obviously not, you know I hate those things." I tell her, and Harper rolls her eyes.

"That question was rhetorical. Of course you're going," Harper states, opening her planner and pretending to be preoccupied by something other than the outraged look on my face.

"Nuh uh," I argue, "I refuse to go to a place full of stale popcorn and freaky haunted houses."

"You have to go," Harper interrupts.