“Where are you?” DeAndre’s voice asked.
I put my phone on speaker. “I told you, I’ll be at the party tonight.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I will come through this phone and strangle you,” DeAndre warned me. “You promised you’d come with me.”
“I don’t want to go to Chuck E. Cheese,” I groaned.
“And you think I want to?”
“Tell the kid you’re not going.”
“That’ll break her heart.”
“Well tell the kid I’m not going.”
“Come on,” DeAndre pleaded. “I don’t want to sit at a table by myself at this stupid kid’s place.”
I let out a frustrated groan. “Alright, fine. I’ll meet you and your stupid sister there. What time again?”
“Be there in thirty minutes.”
“Shane time?” I asked, hopefully. On Shane time, named after the one and only Shane Dawson, I’d be there in probably an hour, maybe even an hour and a half.
“No Nathan, real time.”
I let out another groan. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there mom.”
The line clicked dead and I threw my phone into the pool. Not that it really mattered, with the Lifeproof case I could do virtually whatever I wanted to it.
After a few moments of watching it sink, I jumped in to rescue it, accidentally taking a picture as I did so.
“Dumbass phone,” I muttered.
“It doesn’t like you’re getting much cleaning done,” my mom said, looking down at me.
“Oh and you finished your part?”
She scoffed. “You have such little faith in me.”
“Well did you?”
“Well, no, not yet anyways.”
I rolled my eyes. “And you wonder why.” I hopped off the pool, shaking off the water onto her. “I’m leaving anyways.”
“Good, because I was coming out here to tell you that I was leaving.”
“So on the day you set aside for cleaning, we both lounged around for half the day, and then left?”
She shrugged. “We’ll clean some other time.”
Oh how familiar that sounded.
“Sure mom,” I agreed, grabbing a towel and heading inside. I quickly dried off and changed, sighing as I grabbed my keys.
I made it there in 25 minutes, and met up with DeAndre and Skylar right as they walked into the front doors. Skylar immediately shot off.
DeAndre ordered a pizza, and I scouted out a seat away from the screaming kids.
“I forgot how annoying this place is,” DeAndre said, handing me a coke.
He glared at me.
“You can’t blame me for not wanting to come,” I defended. “It is your little sister.”
“Yeah, and my little sister actually wanted you to come.”
YOU ARE READING
Monroe Academy for the ArtsTeen Fiction
Completed. Thousands of students apply, and only 75 get in per year. This prestigious academy is seemingly perfect on the outside, it's every student's dream. But the students struggle to keep up the facade. Each student holds a secret, something de...