four

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"I mean, I know it's super Immature to just tell him he shouldn't leave because I said so, but It's just too much." I quickly wiped the tears trickling down my tomato red cheeks, certain that Stella had already seen it. "He promised me we were going to college together, and now he just dumped that plan like I didn't exist."

"Do you hate him for that?"

"Of course I fucking do." I sniffed, rubbing my nose. "But it's not like I have a choice. His father's the one who decides."

I look down at my backpack, lifting my glasses, using both of my hands to wipe off the excess tears on my face, further ruining whatever was left of my own visage. There I was, crying my eyes out in front of a stranger. I knew this would happen the moment she began asking me questions about Bill, and I shouldn't have tried to suppress it. Now I just hate myself even more; for fighting with Bill and crying about it.

"Wow, that shit's fucking deep." Stella cursed under her breath, "are you sure he's not your boyfriend, because it sounds like it."

"No, he's not." I uttered, my voice shaking still from recently sobbing, "he's just my friend.. We actually just met last year."

I hear her sigh next to me, slight silence taking over the space between the two of us, which made me marvel over the sensation of the bus trembling underneath my shoes. I looked back out of the windows, and the skies were a dark shade of blue, the sun now over the horizons. UCLA was just around the corner, and My feet itched to get down. Ever since I received my acceptance letter when Angel talked to her friend who was a professor inside the school, I have been dreaming about entering the hallways. I went in there with Bill about six months ago, and now I'm going alone.

"Well, I guess it's my turn now." Stella mumbles, refraining for a second before resuming. "I'm a genie, or a fairy, or whatever you call it."

I paused, making sure I was hearing all the right words, and my ears aren't playing with my tired thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?" I turned back to her, my hearing deperate to get an alternative answer, otherwise I would question my sanity.

"I said, I'm a genie." She repeated more clearly, a hint of hesitation lingering through her expressions. "Or a fairy if you like sleeping beauty. What ever floats your boat. But either way, you get wishes."

I sat there incapacitated to move, my mouth zipped and my tongue tied. My eyes forced themselves to search for any signs of preposterousness from her face, finding no evidence of such a thing. Neither was I hearing things. I was exhausted, but not to the point where I begin hearing things that are completely imaginary. "Did you just say you're a genie?" I asked, which I completely regret for I didn't want anymore to hear from her mouth.

"Yeah. A genie, a fairy. You know, those creatures from the fairytales who give three wishes to people?" A grin breaks into her mouth. "What, you don't believe me?"

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