Jon stared across the schoolyard with a lump in his throat. There sat Amanda, his soon-to-be ex girlfriend, with her posse of plastics. He watched her giggle and place minuscule bits of something green in her mouth. She was totally oblivious to what was going to happen next.
Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Jon made his way through the tables of teenagers until he reached her. The girly chatter slowly stopped as Amanda's friends turned to watch him with knowing smirks and toothy grins.
"Hi, Jon," Amanda said coyly.
"Um, hi," he answered. "Can I talk to you in private somewhere?"
Amanda laughed.
"Don't be silly. Just say whatever you need to here. I trust all my girlfriends."
Just get it over with! Jon's mind screamed.
"Ok...well...I wanna break up. You're a control freak, and you won't let me play Halo." He finished with a sigh of relief.
Amanda filled up her baby blues with crocodile tears and ran away with a wail of anguish. Her girlfriends raced after her with outstretched arms. One stopped and turned back to Jon. With a solid whack, her palm collided with his cheek.
"Here's your Major Tool Award."
Bethany Bachman writes in Philadelphia and is too cool for tools.
Check out www.storypraxis.com for more writing fun.
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