She loved him. He loved her. what could've gone wrong?
“DERYK, GIVE ME MY NAKED JUICE NOW, YOU LITTLE THING!” I screamed in an attempt to get my stuff back. “DERYK, GIVE ME MY NAKED JUICE BACK NOW, YOU LITTLE THING!” He imitated. He really knew how to make his sister mad. “UGH! THAT’S IT, WHIBLEY; I’M PULLING OUT THE CAN OF WUP-ASS!” I screamed and ran for his hiding place. Which would be the washroom, he’s “emo”. Ha-ha, I should sell that joke on one of his band-geek fiends. No, his favorite means of hide-out is the basement, aka: his live-in sanctuary. He probably has a whole pile of crap-load down there, NOT INCLUDING his bass, acoustic, electric and drum kit. He’s “starting” a “band” called uh, what was the name again? Uh! Yes, “Sum 41” pretty strange, eh?
“Ella, WTF are you doing?” Deryk yelled. She smirked at what he was freaking out about, for she had taken his acoustic guitar, and wrote ‘I LOVE GUYS!’ in big block writing. His face was bright red with hot white anger. (Ha-ha an oxy-moron) “What did you do?” he finally asked his lips pursed. “Well, uh, technically, if you want to go that way, I drew REALLY AWESEOME graffiti on your beige colored acoustic guitar. So, technically, I didn’t do it,” Then in a really low voice, she said: “It was the marker.” They looked at each other, for a quick second, and burst out laughing. “You could have at least, put ‘I LOVE GIRLS’” he laughed. “Well, I could’ve…” she smiled lightly, biting down on her bottom lip. “But than that’d be lying.” She quickly let go of his grasp, giggling slightly, and ran away. Leaving him standing there, alone, shaking his head.
“Ah, good times.” I smiled at the memory. “Hey sis, don’t talk to yourself too much, it’ll start to grow on you.” Deryk laughed lightly, as he was passing by. “Hey, Deryk, what happened to the scars on your wrist, they were there yesterday, were you into my cover-up again?” All his friends (just the weird band ones) laughed. “Okay, seriously Ella, that has to stop, I never did, and I don’t now, slit my wrists.” He said angrily. For a minute there, I almost felt sorry, Nope! That phase has passed. “Can I start making fun of your weight then? Mr. Deryk Tubby Whibley?” He turned his head and walked away. Okay, maybe that was a little mean. “Nice one Ellie.” Whoa, okay that was weird. No one ever calls me “Ellie”, not except for my bestest friend in the whole entire world, Mr. Pierre Charles Bouvier. I turned around slowly only to meet the eyes of my best friend.