#17: Run around Wal-Mart like maniacs and sing Jessica's M&M song.

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“M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&…”

“QUIT SINGING THAT STUPID SONG!” Trevor yelled at me. “God, you’ve been singing that song for half an hour.”

Sarah giggled. “I like it.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” I said, patting her head. “At least someone appreciates my wonderful singing.”

Trevor’s eye started twitching, and a blood vessel revealed itself on his forehead.

“Uh, Trevor—”

“I know.”

There was silence.

“Where are those cookies you promised us?” I asked as we walked throug Wal-Mart for cookies. You remember! When we were making car noises.

“I want some M&M cookies,” Sarah giggled.

“No!” Trevor snapped.

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t make any.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t feel like it.”

“Why?”

This was amusing.

“Because I made plenty of chocolate chip and double chocolate cookies.”

“Why?”

“BECAUSE I HATE M&M’S! THERE I SAID IT!”

Sarah and I gasped dramatically. “Oh no, you didn’t,” we said simultaneously.

“You did not just hate on the M&M’s,” I said, shaking my head, making the loose strands of my braid reveal themselves. I quickly tucked them behind my ear as I continued. “M&M’s are rainbow-y chocolaty goodness that are impossible to hate.”

“Well, I hate M&M’s.”

“You’re weird,” Sarah muttered.

“Very,” I agreed. “What don’t you like about M&M’s?”

“Everything,” he grumbled. “Now, shut up.

I got mad. Nobody, and I mean nobody, told me to shut up. I stomped my foot, making the two look at me.

“What?” Trevor asked ignorantly.

“I think she’s mad,” Sarah murmured.

“No der.”

“Now I’m mad.”

We stood side by side, and said in unison, “Don’t make us put our hand on our hip, Trevor Martinez.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t say it like you mean it,” I said, pouting. “You didn’t even tell me what you were sorry for.”

He sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

I glared, and stomped my foot again in frustration at him. “’Bye, Trevor.”

“Wait, Annette—”

I stomped away with Trevor chasing after me.

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