Writing Exercise #4:

“He’s suck a jerk,” Amy said, looking to the ground with that pouty face. God, she can be so much sometimes.

“He’s a jerk? Do you remember when you used to follow him around? You had his schedule memorized, didn’t you?” I started. “You know, I think they classify that as stalking today.”

She didn’t say anything at first. She always knows I’m right but never likes to admit it. So she’s stubborn. So is every 17-year-old girl.

“So what if I did,” she retorted, still practicing that lip curl, “People change. And he became a jerk.”

“Yeah, people do change,” I said. She knew where this was going. “You changed. I remember in eighth grade when you were having a slumber party and you all got up at some ungodly hour to make chocolate chip cookies. But rather than actually bake the cookies, you just ate the cookie dough. Do you have any idea how many calories are in one bite of chocolate chip cookie dough?”

Amy only glared at me. Her lip curl was turning to a snarl.

“Of course you do, you’re the anorexic queen, what was I thinking.”

“Oh fuck you,” she snarled.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” I said with a smile. I can have such an annoying charm sometimes.

“So what if I changed. We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about him. About Aaron.” At least she was making sense now.

“Yes, we are talking about Aaron. Does it really upset you that much?”

“Well, isn’t he supposed to like me no matter what? Isn’t that what boyfriends do? He only wants my body, why should he care whether I eat or not?” she asked.

“You have a point there. I won’t try to defend the fact that he thinks with is crotch.”

“Why do all guys do that?” she asked, finally looking me in the eye.

“They don’t. A lot do, but you’re incriminating all of us. And that’s not really fair.”

“Who cares about fair? He dumped me because I’m fat.” Her eyes fell to the floor again.

“You weigh 92 pounds.”

“Look at me, I’m fat.” She huffed, finally throwing herself onto the nearby couch.

“You’re as fat as a bean sprout. I bet the scarecrows are jealous. Do you just suck up the schtick they feed you in those fashion magazines? Don’t you have a brain?”

“You’re so heartless.” Red hot tears of anger were beginning to well in her eyes.

“If I was heartless I’d be off with Aaron, thinking with my crotch.” She finally quieted for a moment, and I let the silence linger. I can only push her so hard.

“It’s just that I try so hard. But nothing ever works.” She mumbled between sobs. “And you want me to still like this guy after what he did? You’re so fucked up.” The silence lingered again.

“First of all, you’re the one that’s fucked up, remember?” I reminded her, as gently as I could. The reminder slowly sunk in and her swelling anger quelled. She didn’t say anything.

“Secondly, I’m not asking you to like him. He is a jerk. You’re not required to like jerks.” A faint smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. She likes it when I admit she’s right, even if it’s only in so many words.

“But you are required to love him.”

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