My walk home gets on my nerves sometimes. There’s this, like, third grade kid with one ear pierced, and whenever he is in front of me, he always continuously looks back at me every now and then, thinking (probably), Man, I wish that girl would stop following me, or, Ugh! Can’t I just get some peace! or, Whoa, a GIRL…
Yikes. I hate that kid.
*shudder*
… or thinking: “Wow, it’s that foxy fifth-grade babe! Do I dare ask for her phone number?”
I hated walking home too, I had the same type of thing happen to me and it was always those really scarry yucky boys that look mean.
P.S. His name was Robert.