You See, Sometimes...

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 It’s been four days since I last saw T’s face.

You know how when you’re mad at your boyfriend and you’re hanging out with your friend, and she’s telling you, “Don’t call his sorry self back?” That’s exactly what’s happening with me and Chyna. This is how our conversations have been going:

“I have ten more missed calls from T.” I say to her.

“So?” She replies.

“So, should I call him?” I ask.

“If you want to be the weak one, and the one that gives in first and seems desperate, you can call him.” She says.

And of course, I change my mind about calling him.

But I don’t miss him. Not at all. After he lied to me and used me, I don’t miss him. I don’t even want to see his face ever again.

But I want him to hold me…

                   *  * *

Every time Chyna and I go in a store at the mall, we get stared at. But I mean, why wouldn’t we get stared at? We’re famous now, all because of T. If they only knew how much of a liar and a womanizer T was, his career would be over.

The paparazzi take pictures of me, and my growing baby bump.

My doctor says that if I wanted to know whether I’m having a girl or a boy, I would have to wait a few months for him to tell me. But I don’t care about that. I just want the baby to be out. I’m four months pregnant, 17, and going through a break up. My life isn’t the Cinderella story I thought it would be when I met T.

One day, when Chyna and I went to the mall for cute clothes that would fit us even when our bellies got bigger, we got tired and decided to head home. So when we got to the hotel, and were sitting on the bed watching Martin and just chilling out trying our best not to think about T, there was someone at the door.

“I’ll get it.” I say to Chyna. I hop off the bed and open the door. There’s a boy in a navy blue uniform, holding a bunch of envelopes in his hand.

“Hi, Miss Jaydi. We have mail for you. Um, don’t tell my boss I did this but…can I have your autograph?” He asks nervously. I smile at him, take the pen he’s handing me, and sign his arm.

“Who was that?” Chyna asks when I get back into the bedroom.

“The mailboy. We got mad mail for no reason.” I complain. I sit next to her on the bed while we go through the envelopes. The first letter is from the mental institution Camilla is staying at. It’s probably them updating me on her progress there.

When I open the envelope, though, I realize it isn’t from the institution itself. It’s a direct letter from Camilla.

Dear Jaydi,

I hate you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m only writing this letter because I had a vision. In the vision, a man came to me and told me that if I didn’t tell you the truth, everyone I loved would die. I was disappointed though, because you wouldn’t die. Since I don’t love you. Anyway, I don’t want everyone I love to die. So I’m going to tell you the truth. That…thing I told you the other day, when you came to visit me, wasn’t true. I was just trying to mess with you. I know I’m being a little vague, but they monitor the letters I send here. So I don’t want them to know all of my business. So if you don’t remember the…thing I told you, then that’s your problem. You’re stupid.

I hate you so much,


I read the letter over and over, and I still didn’t care about the fact that she said she hated me. I was just relieved that what she told me that day was a lie. I was so worried! Now I hate T a little less.

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