fire

“Yeah. The day ended. And all the other kid’s moms were getting them, but mine didn’t come.”

“Why?”

“Fire.”

“What?”

“Our apartment caught on fire. I guess you lose track of time when something like that happens.”

“Shit.”

“I know, huh?”

“No wonder you hate school.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for the story. I should go. My brother’s waiting.”

Involuntarily, I shuddered. “OK. See you around.”

“No, You won’t! That’s what I’ve been telling you!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry for yelling. I’m such a bitch.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious! If I can’t smoke, you can’t call yourself names. Deal or no deal?”

“Yeah, OK.”

“Say it!” I insisted.

“I promise I will not call myself names.”

 

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