This is Jessie. You're not going to believe what happened!!!!!!
OK, so, the other day I got an invitation to go to Noah's house for a party. (I was pretty sure it was something about the football... [because, you know, I did save them by dressing up as the mascot that one time...... ONE OF THE MOST HORRIBLE DAYS EVER.] but my best friend's emails aren't always the easiest to interpret. =P)
Anyway, so I talked to my mom, and she was like...
Mom: Of course your going! Noah's your best friend!
Me: Are you sure? I mean, from Noah's email, it sounded like just him and his football buddies.
Mom: Of course! I know all of their parents. It'll be fine.
Me: OK, but I'm not going to be wrangled into dressing up as a mascot.
Mom: O course not!
So that's how I found myself standing in front of Noah's house.
"Hey, Jessie!" Noah ran out of the house. "Come on--we're about to start playing Imaginiff." He paused, and then leaned forward and hissed, "By the way, I've just got to warn you that Marcus is here."
"WHAT?!" my voice squeaked. "Are you kidding!?"
"No," he answered.
"Look," I hissed, "I can't go in there. I hate that kid. I'll probably starting throwing food at him, and I don't want to do that."
"Look," Noah whispered, "it'll be fine. Come on."
He practically dragged me into the house, where his mom was trying to save all of her precious vases and picture frames. (I would've given it up.) Noah's football buddies were running around the house like crazy. (I'm serious. Middle school boys are so immature. =P) Marcus was sitting like a board, glaring, on Noah's couch.
"I need to leave," I hissed. "My mind's already thinking of ways to booby trap Marcus!"
"It'll be fine," Noah told me. "Just relax. Hey, you can go and help Mom in the kitchen, OK?"
I watched his mom catch a picture that was falling off the wall. "Noah, your mom's not IN the kitchen."
"Well, you know what I mean." He pushed me towards the door. "Go on."
I went into the kitchen. Paper plates and cups sat on the kitchen table, next to a bowl full of limes and oranges and a platter of sandwiches.
"What's this party really for, anyway?" I muttered, picking up a lime and throwing it between my hands like a baseball.
CRASH!!! The sound made me cringe and then run angrily into Noah's living room. Marcus was standing with a smug smile over a broken vase.
"YOU HOOLIGAN!" I shouted at him.
And then I did something really awful.
I threw the lime at his head.
"OOF!" He fell to the ground, rubbing the back of his head. Then he stood up and glared at me. "What was that for?!"
As you can imagine, I was horrified.
It ended up that I apologized, Noah's mom cut the party short, and we went home.
HAD I REALLY JUST THROWN A LIME AT MARCUS???????