Page 8 - My FlipBook

Eric Walters

“It’s just that it’s like you’re much older than eighteen.”
“So I’m mature.”
“It’s less like you’re mature and more like you’re old,” he said.
“You’re three weeks older than me,” I pointed out.
“But it’s like you’re a lot older. Thirty years older.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“Am I? I can always predict exactly what you’re going to do.”
“So you want unpredictable, do you?” I reached over and
with both hands mussed up his precious hair.
“Stop that!” he said as he jumped backward and tried to
straighten his hair.
He seemed more upset about his hair than about breaking
up with me. Ella had always said that Luke would never care
for anybody as much as he cared for his hair, and it looked
like she was right about that. And maybe lots of other things
about him.
“I bet you didn’t see that coming,” I said angrily.
He laughed. “Maybe not, but I bet you didn’t see this
coming.”
I hadn’t. I always needed to know what was coming up,
what was happening next. I hated being surprised, and this
was more than that—it was a shock.
“Look, Sophie, it’s just that I want to have some fun.”
“And I’m not fun?”
“Sophie, you never want to try anything new, or different,
or exciting, or dangerous. You’re just, well, so predictable that
you’re boring.”

“If I’m so boring, why didn’t you break up with me months
ago?”
“At first I didn’t want to interfere with the prom.”

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